Day 72nd, Year 8:

  I am yet to gather the results of the efficiency of the Class 64's combat effectiveness – all of which I would share in a table with Mister Norton the moment he returns from his other tasks. Tests involving the durability of the alloys and their resistance to conventional arms show positive results. Of course, there is more to testing the worthiness of war machines than the quality of face-hardened plating.

  There are concerns regarding the design of the command seals' location as well as the constructs' core. Hollegrehenn seemed to have patterned the machines too much after the human anatomy. Not that its secrets will be revealed too quickly and the enemy would be aware of its inner workings, but I would have to speak with him about it. I feel that the constructs' weaknesses would be too vulnerable should one take it down the way he would fight another man.

  This also opens the discussion if there is further need to employ more men to the cause – the few hundred metric tons of metal should be more than enough to build up a sizeable force of these machines. Also, the process of synthesizing the magically-enhanced alloys of old would greatly prolong the stockpile and make more efficient and resilient models while lowering production costs. Creating combat automatons to replenish the ranks is initially costly, but they lack the usual issues one has to deal with when it comes to keeping men in line.

  It is time to reflect and gauge my readiness in facing the enemies before me. Whether I must make my move to render the opposition helpless, or perhaps keep my profile low enough to prevent the Empire from sending an army against me. My options on staying unknown are spent the moment I chose to keep the Imperial commander my prisoner. I can only hope that my facility will hide me long enough to commence the stages of my plan with little trouble. One cannot rely on stealth too long, and I am doomed to be discovered later on. From there, I will need the best defense to prevent anyone from stopping me from achieving what I must.

  My opponents are not to be trifled with. I am in their domain, and little can be done if I am to survive another attack like the fall of my Schweiglands fortress. They are heroes, dedicated servants who helped create the empire I am going up against. Those they command are no small game either, and the utter decimation my hired men faced against their ranks gave me a glimpse of that power. Power is certainly a requirement, should I have any hopes of trying to stall them long enough for my goals to be achieved. There are so many things I shall do, and my goal of attaining the True Peace will be realized at all costs.

  The Gray Fox picked up the top folder of a small stack of documents on his desk. The Separatists working in the western country of Frankland purchased thirty thousand rifles, another hundred and twenty million Marks to be injected into the syndicate leader's banks. Other details were reported within the file, including the types of ships used, the type of guns purchased, and an order to be placed two years from then. Perhaps he could indulge them in the sale of other weapons; their leader could add mortars, rocket lances, or even a few refurbished armored tractors in hopes of keeping up with their government.

  They would both benefit from a deal – the Separatists would have a better chance at toppling the monarchy, and more money for the Gray Fox. He closed the ledger, setting the folder aside to pick up another folder from the stack. The next document contained the same report, only that a shipment had reached Keltain's shores. He scanned the contents of the ledger; The Gray Fox's mind was still on the notes he had just made. The thought of learning how to be less dependent on Winston Norton when it comes to military matters broke into his mind.

  His eyes were off the papers and were affixed to the door, expecting that a few knocks would pass through it in a matter of moments. He was right nonetheless.

  "The Commander to see you, Master." A gritty, crackling voice came from his desk's speaker.

  "Let him in."

  Two clicks followed by a weak hiss from above split the metal door in two. The unnatural green glow of Norton's eye scattered to a fraction of his face. His hands were behind his back – a pose that The Gray Fox found rather unusual.

  "I see that this is not the best time to bother you with this, but I must inform you that the task force unit has completed its objectives."

  "Excellent, Mister Norton." The Gray Fox closed the folder and set it aside. "How did the unit fare?"

  "A major success." Winston's typical hiss almost escaped his leader's ears. "Fortune's Smile is effectively sealed – for the time being. We have secured much of their contraband in exchange for our silence."

  "You don't seem to be proud of it. Did we suffer any losses?"

  "My estimates were displaced by something unexpected. Three of your battle machines were destroyed in the operation."

  "Three constructs? Destroyed by such a paltry opponent?" The Gray Fox's neutral stare was washed away; a stern face took its place. "Hollegrehenn's alloys were proven immune to bullets. The face-hardening process was known to make it withstand even a close-ranged grenade attack."

  "Yes, it still is so. It is just that your machines came across an equally unconventional enemy."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It would be best if you see it for yourself."

  Norton handed a small white sphere to the crime lord. He flipped open a small dome on his desk. Two switches were exposed to his sight, and the Gray Fox flicked the one to the right. Lights on the inner end of his chamber dimmed to a gray shade. He retrieved a box-shaped device from under his desk, setting it near the edge of the table. A side of the small machine showed an aperture which he positioned to face a wide, unobstructed section of the chamber wall. The white sphere was inserted into a small hole on top of the device. A whirr kicked the device to life, which was later seen as a faint light that clung to the insides of the machine. It was followed by the aperture releasing a beam of light that concentrated into a large rectangle on the other side. The wall displayed a faint outline of a flaming landscape at first, which slowly cleared to show images of armed men who were shooting at the recorder.

  "Get out! Quick."

  "Kill the bastards!"

  "Why aren't my shots going through!?"

  It was one-sided; a slaughter where all the armed men that came across crumpled and were left to bleed when the constructs began their barrage. Each step forward presented a new target that the machines mowed down with little problem. The Gray Fox could hear the screeches and ricochets of guns that looked for weaknesses in the armor to no avail. A green flash filled the screen for a few moments when the automatons walked past the leveled warehouses.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "So, the controllers set the constructs to self-pilot?"

  "The task force came across squads from the Altrecht Town Guard. They are reinforced by some other force, probably from the Capital itself." Winston watched the screen form an image of Altrecht's streets. "How exactly did your engineer set these machines when nobody's looking after them?"

  "I'll have to ask Dr. Hollegrehenn for specifics. It seems that the machines were set to do their last action on any person they would come across."

  More deaths were brought to Altrecht by the war machines. Screams of fleeing townspeople and bursts of gunfire played a cacophony. Constable and opposition member alike dropped to the ground after firing at the constructs.

  "I am not seeing this 'unconventional enemy' you speak of."

  "He will come at a later part, Master."

  "Now, how many of the units carried memory spheres?"

  "One was assigned to every four constructs."

  "Only one for each team?" The crime lord looked away from the recorded carnage; his lips slightly pursed when his eyes met Winston's. "Why didn't you have all twelve fitted with them?"

  "None of us foresaw that the machines would be destroyed."

  Both resumed watching the operation. The constructs were now gathered inside a park, where three bodies lay lifeless after a failed attempt to destroy them. A shadow jumped out of a dark corner; three flashes came out of its hands.

  "Do not tell me..."

  "I'd better not spoil the suspense, Master." Norton kept his eyes on the screen. "This is the part where everything becomes interesting."

  The figure dodged the constructs' return fire and rolled into a dark patch of trees. There was a pause in its advance until a small purple dot appeared in the background. It rushed at the standing automatons, evading their shots with unnatural agility. Someone got to the back of one of the constructs; two to three pistol cracks echoed before the first construct was reduced to a flaming hulk.

  The next scenes caused the other construct to aim longer than it should – a fat man hopelessly chasing a guileless wolf. A strained pivot motor whirred at full power, but not in time to see the fate of its 'teammate', which had already been destroyed the moment its eyes could properly probe the attacker. This nimble assailant turned the responding construct into its second kill right after the hapless unit found the target and misfired. More shots followed, which strafed the ground and did nothing to stop the enemy from closing in. The syndicate leader was about to get a good register of the attacker's face when the automaton raised its claw arm to clamp down on the figure. It slid out of sight; the recording ended with the construct trying to lift its claw arm from the ground. A cracked image followed by a yellow and orange flash overtook the machine.

  "And to think that our Class 64s were bested by a pistol-wielder...?" The Gray Fox cupped his chin. He was having difficulty understanding how the heavily built automatons were eliminated so quickly. "Unbelievable! Their armor was defeated... defeated by a pair of pistols."

  "If I recall, the constructs were created using reinforced metals."

  "I supervised the processing. It went out perfectly!"

  "Then it is possible that the attacker carried a special gun to defeat our machines."

  "Either that, or unknown bullets that could pierce steel," The Gray Fox added. "No matter, is whoever this is still at large?"

  "I do have a second recording." Winston produced a second memory sphere from his pocket. "This is from a unit of the First Team that responded to the destroyed machines."

  He pressed a button at the top of the projector. The little ball rolled out of an opening just at the back of the machine. He took the first recording from the catch basket and inserted the second sphere into the machine. It depicted the same carnage, only that the lone construct worked on another part of Altrecht until it got to the place where most of the Third Team was situated. Two of the machines cornered someone, but the upper body was denied to their eyes by a shadow cast by one of the houses. Someone jumped out of nowhere to push the figure right before the automatons opened fire. There was more static, as two of the attackers were engaged from the flanks.

  The crime lord could only guess that the second person was wearing either a dress or a robe. Much of the view from the construct was blurred; its eyes may have been fogged by the smog that it passed through minutes ago. More broken words came from the second person.

  "stay... -ease..."

  The automatons did not fire, being unable to react to the actions the person was doing. Whoever pushed the figure out of the constructs' barrage was struck down with the claw manipulator. It slid down to the ground; a dark patch of what may have been blood splattered as small dots on the ground.

  Something struck a chord in The Gray Fox's mind as he went on watching.

  "Wait. There was a purple speck that was seen by the one who destroyed most of Team Three."

  "Correct guess, Master." Winston did not bother letting the crime lord proceed to his next sentence. "Our construct-killer won't be around for quite a while, should it survive the hits it took. Do not peel your eyes off yet – you are bound to see something more interesting."

  "Do not forget who's the subordinate here, Mister Norton."

  Winston bowed and resumed watching the recording. The second figure approached the downed savior. The image began to show more interference; the construct itself was on fire. The display ended with the machine looking at the sky before it was forcibly shut down

  "Just what... was that?"

  Winston stared at the stymied crime lord. Incredible. It was a magician, no doubt. For years, the syndicate leader thought that only Gerhard Guildenstern was capable of such feats, and now this mysterious figure pulled a trick his eyes found difficult to believe.

  "What do you think of this... Mister Norton?"

  "Mystical or no, they wouldn't be much of a threat to us. The best we can do is to find those two. Whether or not they'll prove useful..."

  "I could not believe our enemies held such members under their ranks." He took the second orb out of the projector and pocketed it. "I'll take these with me. I'd need to see those events on my own at another time."

  "Still wanting to convince yourself, but as the Master wishes."

  "Perhaps Guildenstern or Sauvant came across either of them." The crime lord flipped the desk's switch; the room lights were at full glow in moments. "Impressive. If we could replicate how the construct-destroyer eliminated the battle machines with such ease, then I can help Dr. Hollegrehenn in figuring out a proper way to counter it."

  "We may try, but I highly doubt that we can produce a gun that may have magical properties in such a short time. I feel that such power in a small weapon involves either a complex mechanism or a magical amplifier."

  "Now that you have thought of it, your speculation is a high probability." The Gray Fox picked up a third folder from his document pile. Sounds of flapping paper fanned out of the ledger and climbed into the chamber. "It would take a handheld cannon or a rocket lance to defeat the Class 64's armor plating. Besides, magically-enhanced weapons are being researched at Luminberg. I've heard that they're arriving at something close to copying the very process the smiths of old used."

  "Regardless, neither of them can make a move in their state. We have de-clawed the Far Easterners – and those who escaped death are rounded up by the Empire as we speak." The hiss was louder now; a smile was subtly forming on Winston's face. "Shall I call on Guildenstern or Sauvant?"

  "Let them rest for now. They would be fit to answer questions, probably when they are rested." The Gray Fox opened the ledger and resumed scanning its contents. "You may leave."

  "Of course." The Commander gave a slight nod before he turned around and walked towards the door.