Alchimia Rex

Rafaella looked upon the Lord’s contraption, the Metalmouse’s large round ears perked and attentive. After a moment of consideration, she tilted her head slightly, pondering on what use it might have.

It was a hodgepodge assembly, one that was rather pleasing in its simplicity. A singular tree trunk lay upon a fulcrum. On the shorter end was a boulder, suspended by a sturdy rope, on the other was the much longer arm. The device had been set on a wheel, four large spokes protruding from the base, an Orc standing behind each. The concepts were easy to grasp, the rock was a counterweight, but to what? Her eyes traced to the tip of the longer arm, where a set of straps and rope had been haphazardly left hanging.

Without other hints to grasp on to, she pondered on what it might be unusable for.

“Look at you, Rick, you made a very bad trebuchet,” team-leader Eva quipped with biting sarcasm. The maiden recoiled at her own words, face taking a healthier pink coloration as she turned to look away from the Lord’s eyes.

Rafaella tried to ponder on this, but her attention returned to the device. Unable to find a clear solution, she went through a process of elimination. The machine could not operate as a trebuchet, or at least, it would not be able to operate as one for long. Neither the arm nor the base had the reinforcements required to withstand the forces.

“It’s not meant to throw things,” the Lord spoke with a tense edge in his voice.

The Metalmouse nodded, content at the confirmation of her observations.

Temporarily placated, she turned to the other puzzling matter: namely, the team-leader’s relationship with the Lord. Something had shifted as of late, and there was an air of unease amongst the two. Speculation was rampant amongst Rafaella’s horde-sisters. The prevailing theory was that Eva had accidentally bit him somewhere she shouldn’t have. Horde-sister Helen had once committed such a mistake, and her partner, Mister Davidson, had reacted in much the same way the Lord now was.

The only one betting against this was Rafaella. Even if it had happened, the Lord lived with dealer-of-honey Dia, thus it would be impossible for anyone to verify.

“Of course it’s not for throwing things, an Orc spear would hit just as hard and be far more precise,” green-giant Urtha proclaimed, booming her voice to cut down on the muttering amongst the gathered crowd.

“I… yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” The Lord chuckled. “Anyway, some of the things that’ll be made in the lab will be explosively shock sensitive. This should help move heavy loads smoothly. At least until we get a proper conveyor and elevator system made,” the Lord explained. He brought his hands together, rubbing them enthusiastically. "In the meantime, I thought this might serve as something fun for everyone while the workshop is rebuilt."

His words stirred the crowd, varying degrees of nervousness mixed with excitement. Rafaella could see her horde-sisters stepping back and out of sight. The others were a bit more eager, though most of it lay in the curiosity of what the Lord’s intentions were.

Urtha scrutinized the machine, gaze sliding over to the vast sea before returning. "You're not going to toss me with that thing."

The Lord chuckled. “As I said, not for throwing.” He reached out to the straps and rope hanging off of the long arm of the machine. They were attached to a wheel of some sort, clearly meant to rotate on an axis parallel to the fulcrum. “This is meant for some crude form of flight.”

Rafaella’s tail sprang erect, the maiden found herself stepping forward and puffing her chest out proudly. “I volunteer to test its safety,” she squeaked.

He looked down at her, giving a slight nod. “Do you understand how it works?”

The most immediate answer was to proclaim the principles behind the arm and the counterweight, but Rafaella gave herself pause. Clearly he expected a response that involved deeper insight. She looked at the device once again, then at the straps that held the wheel on the longer arm, and how it allowed for the wheel to be moved further along the arm. Tilting her head a little, she parsed through the Lord’s words. If this was meant for “flight”, but it was not meant for launching things, then…

She looked at the boulder, and estimated it to be a hundred times her weight. If the distance from the boulder to the fulcrum was a single unit, the longer arm was twenty units. It would not be able to operate properly. Nodding, she surveyed her surroundings. With a little help from her horde-sisters, she gathered a burlap sack and filled it with sand. She then proceeded to tie the sack onto her back.

Satisfied with its integrity, she returned to the Lord, who’d been watching attentively the whole time. “Readiness achieved.” She proclaimed.

He looked at her. “Indeed, you appear to be.” He gestured at the machine, and the Orcs helped lower the longer arm to ground level. It was there that helped strap her on to the wheel at the end of the longer arm, the ropes serving as an impromptu harness. “Just don’t forget this is a prototype, don’t treat it harshly.”

"Acknowledged, my Lord."

Though she said this, it still took a few minutes of messing around with her sand-burlap-sack before proper exact weight was achieved. It was at this point that the experiment was to begin, and Rafaella executed the mildest of jumps.

The harness pulled her upwards while the sand weighed her down, a relative equilibrium had been achieved. Her feet left the ground and she floated upon the air like a feather in the wind. The distance from the ground increased by the second, slowly but surely urging her further and further up. The device creaked, and the little amount of inertia died out, beginning her descent.

“Give it a slow spin,” the Lord commanded.

The four Orcs pushed on their respective spokes, and the added motion turned the Metalmouse’s ascent from a simple curve to a spiral. A cool sea breeze whipped against her face, the moment her feet touched the ground, she launched herself back up more readily.

It was the feeling of shackles being released, chains she’d only ever suspected she’d worn. The ever-cruel claim the ground had upon her was all but made moot within the power of her new immediately favorite device. How many times had she looked from the Lightning-vault’s windows and imagined herself free to run through the air at her leisure? They’d been idle dreams for maidens that were not mice! Never again!

Rafaella squealed, legs kicking in the air and arms flaring wildly at her sides.

When she next touched the ground she jumped. “Faster!” she begged with deafening giggles, feeling the arm push her in that ascending spiral once more. The next jump had her pulling her legs against her chest. The wheel upon which her harness was suspended spun, turning up to down and then back again.

She was flying!

Blood and wind were rushing through her ears, deafening the world in swishing drums. She squealed again, and her heart soared, wanting more, faster, higher, faster, higher!

But all things came to an end, and Rafaella had to share her time with the others. It was the first time she’d ever considered telling her horde-sisters that she needed more! Her face was flush and her whole body shivered at the rush that coursed through her, as if the air itself had made a home within her veins!

Her butt fell to the ground, she nodded numbly to words, and she helped the next one up. Mind spun faster than before, the instant she regained the feeling on her legs she bolted. The horde had a workshop of their own, and she called upon her sisters to accompany her for an emergency project.

Upon their return there was a line of maidens and a few humans wanting to use the device. The Lord had left, no doubt to help with the work for the upcoming festival. In his stead, green-giant Urtha had been left in charge. The line was orderly, the time spent on the device measured in the number of rotations it would take. Rafaella waited for her turn, then removed the straps and harness to put the new and improved one in place.

Many of those present got on the device once or twice and left, not Rafaella and a small part of the horde. They’d chittered in agreement in marvel at the experience. Were there other ways to achieve it? Was there an option to remove the constraints the arm presented? They imagined pulleys and rushing down long lengths of rope, the easier answers to the dilemma.

Not Rafaella. Every time she took to the sky she’d try to imagine herself going higher than any rope or tower would be able to reach. The scary-Neigix maidens could do it, fly to the sky and touch the clouds, there had to be a way for her to do the same! Why had she not pondered on this before?

Minutes turned to hours, and when the Orcs left the horde took it upon themselves to begin work on improving the device. The main wheel that allowed it to rotate was crude and prone to friction, bearings and a proper balancing would make it easier. The fulcrum creaked and had height limited by the boulder reaching the ground, the solution was merely to raise the fulcrum further up. The arm’s fixed length presented problems as well, thus they envisioned a second arm that could be strapped at the end and extend it further. The harness and wheel were crude, turned into a basket one would be strapped into. Dozens then hundreds of adjustments and tweaks, all drafted and put down on paper as was proper for such holy design.

The day folded into night; the setting sun gave way to the moon and the first stars. The horde never truly slept, unlike other maidens, the Mousegirls would spread their sleep into small naps throughout the day. It kept them alert and active at all times, and it let Rafaella to jump and enjoy the flight that had been gifted by the Lord.

Now that she’d tasted true freedom, every moment with her feet on the ground was a reminder of what she did not have.

They presented the designs to the Lord upon the end of the second day.

When the third day ebbed, the Lord summoned Rafaella into his workshop. The building was still under construction. A quick mental comparison with the previous one left the wooden version looking insufficient. There was a basement now, one clearly intended to house the noisier or smellier devices. The doors were snug, better for blocking out sound. There were windows and vents, and so much more room.

All of it was waiting for machines Mister Rollo had promised. And Rafaella could tell, this building would become very busy soon.

The Lord led her to his office, promptly turning his back to her as he looked out of the window. “I will begin talking to myself, I have some musings I wish to voice for my own ears, and if you happen to hear them, then it is because I was clumsy.”

Her ears swiveled, looking for any sign of the presence of another. They were alone, truly. “My Lord?”

The Lord’s voice, surprisingly gentle, filled the silence, "I have thoughts about who designed the enchantments on the Lightning-Vault." His gaze was fixed, not on her, but on the wall. "I also heard rumors of several lives that were lost during its construction, some vehemently insisting the designer died during one such accident.”

Rafaella froze, memories, like distant thunder, reverberated through her. The screams echoed, the chill of iron shackles on her wrists and ankles, the lifeless bodies of the ‘failures’.

Her breath hitched.

“I’m just talking to a window here. The Lightning-Vault is gone, and I do not wish for its return.” His words brought a steady drone against the silence, his posture rigid. “After what the Seraph did to Sinco, I’ve been increasingly thinking about the sky. I even wrote some notes anyone could just reach out and read… if they happened to be here.” He tapped a small stack of papers on the desk.

Rafaella hesitated, was this coercion? Was he implying she had to help? The maiden hesitated, reaching out for the papers.

“In my world, we’ve developed many things. Among others, there are machines that allow anyone to fly.”

Her mind was seeking ways to escape, she was closer to the door, she could make it out, and it was unlikely there would be maidens within the building. What then? She’d need to go into hiding, the horde would protect her, and her brother would understand.

“Had we had the tools, we wouldn’t have lost as many maidens. The city wouldn't have burned.” The Lord’s hands tightened. “Everyone keeps insisting things went far better than we had any right to. But everything went so much worse than it should have.”

Rafaella hesitated, Sinco had gone through feral rushes before, all of them had seen more dead, even if less widespread destruction. One thing the horde had all agreed on was that the Lord’s plan had been honorable, none had been asked to die, none had been thrown in sacrifice. Every bit of the plan had relied on striking from safety. A very Mousegirl-like plan.

“All I want is an honest consideration.” His voice carried an honest edge of regret.

She knew that tone. It had been in her own voice during the funeral to her horde-sisters. It had been there when she’d greeted her newer younger sisters. And it had been there when she’d sworn to never again design another creation for the bad-Lord.

Never again would a horde-sister be hurt by one of her creations.

Briefly, she checked her surroundings once more, to be sure she could escape if the need arose. With her tail firmly wrapped around the door, her gaze lowered to the paper.

“I was just a chemistry teacher, a lot of these things were completely outside what I knew. I’m only aware of the superficial details and general concepts,” he admitted. “I can say for sure that they are applicable, that they work. The question is how much it might cost to make them a reality, and how well they might function.”

She skimmed the first design, crudely drawn and hastily scribbled. It showed diagrams of airflow, and vague mentions of pressure and lift. The second half of the page showed those inflexible wings shrunk and placed into a rotating axis, generating thrust. It vaguely broke down the concepts of how to turn speed into flight.

Her hands trembled slightly at the consideration. Was it truly this simple? Would they be able to achieve flight through merely attaching planks of wood to a frame and having a maiden spinning the ‘propeller’ quickly enough? It was absurd, on doubt it would require speeds that weren’t so easily achieved.

She flipped to the next page, her eyebrows rose in surprise.

An ‘engine’, a block of interconnected chambers where tiny explosions would be unleashed, all meant to generate force that would add spin to an axle. Valves and pumps and tubes meant to take liquid explosive and extract the smoke to make way for more explosions.

Another page, an even more complex device. This time there were a series of propellers placed into an axis, encased by a large cylinder that would inject the explosive and ignite. It was madness! Rafaella had seen the ‘rockets’ the large fire-brutes enjoyed throwing around, and this was not much different.

A single word caught her attention.

“What is the ‘sound barrier’?”

“When lightning strikes, the light of the bolt reaches us before the sound has had time to propagate. Anything that attempts to move faster than sound is met by extreme resistance, all of it caused by the air being too slow to move away. Every time a whip is cracked against the air, the tip of it breaks the sound barrier.” He paused, letting out a small sigh. “By my estimations, this technology would not be achievable within my lifetime.” The Lord shifted slightly, crossing his arms. “It’s my hope that this world has ways to bypass at least some of the hurdles.”

Biting her lip, Rafaella kept turning the pages, seeing more and more details for each of the basic concepts. One of the pages even detailed more in regards to rockets, of how the air became thinner the higher one went, how one could reach the moon.

The moon!

Insanity!

Despite herself, her lips were curled into a maniacal smile. Her mind was trapped in a storm of ideas that threatened to spill over and out through her ears. How could anyone live with these concepts and thoughts in their heads and not feel like they were about to burst!?

The ruffling through the pages filled with wonders came to an abrupt halt at the final one, and the strange mundanity of what it presented. Rafaella needed a moment to process what she was seeing, at first too caught up trying to decipher whether there was some impossible thing hidden between the lines of text or the diagram.

“Pa-ra-shoot?” She inquired, the design of cloth and string entirely out of place within pages of metal and fire.

“That,” the Lord chuckled lightly, “is the most critical component. If something goes wrong, it’s meant for the pilot to safely reach the ground again.”

Rafaella blinked, nodding absently. She’d heard of the ferals nearer to the mountain, and how they would throw maidens down steep cliffs.

She watched the Lord, trying to shake off the excitement of impossible things and ground herself. She’d made an oath to her horde-sisters, and to herself. What the Lord was asking for was no small thing, it would be hard, dangerous, and hard. Most everything within the papers were things she wasn’t even sure how to tackle.

Who would be put in danger if she helped? Was the Lord someone who would throw away the lives of her sisters?

No, she concluded.

The Lord was kind like a Mousegirl, the Lightning-Vault had been destroyed and his first concern had been for those who’d been hurt. The Lord was honorable like a Mousegirl, he’d sworn to keep her secret, and though he could’ve forced her, he was asking. The Lord fought like a Mousegirl, his horde’s survival was the first consideration, no precaution was cowardly.

She remembered the sign that the Lord had hung at the entrance of his workshop. “Safety first,” she muttered.

“Yes.” He nodded, turning to look at her with a rueful smile. “A machine can be rebuilt, replaced. Lives cannot.”

A decision hung in the air, Rafaella tucked her tail away from the door as she looked at the Lord intently. In her hand was proof of a great mind, one that saw the world not as it was but as he wished it to be. In the city was proof of his heart, everything had burned, yet so very few had died. In his shop there was proof of wisdom, dangerous things were being created, yes, but every wall was thick, every aspect geared for safety. And she’d personally been witness to the goodness of him, teaching the giant-mean Orcs how to work with her sisters as only a larger horde could.

The insistence on deciding whether the Lord was good or not had remained. But Rafaella was certain now.

The Metalmouse reached up to her throat, carefully removing the collar as she approached, lowering to a knee, bowing deeply. “The Cog-Horde will become the Lord’s wings and fly past the stars. This Rafaella so swears.”

The bond clicked into place like a well oiled machine, the shiver that ran down her spine confirming her feelings had been met in full. She could confess within the privacy of her mind a tiny amount of awe at a bond forming without a collar.

He blinked slowly, eyes wide. “The what now?”