Weight of the World Ep.2 - Uncertainty

In the dire glow of the mountain’s core, shadows flickered as a hammer was brought down again and again…

The ringing of metal on stone was unceasing. It was a repeated rhythm, like a heartbeat, that set the tumult of all the Forgeborn one way or another… And in the case of the crimson light that spilled forth from this chamber, there was only one demand;

Conquest…

The shadowy figure lifted her arm once more, and brought it down hard. In the shower of sparks, her grim expression could be seen for a few nanoseconds. She lifted the metallic frame she had created, staring at it with a critical eye afforded by only the longest and most astute of practice...

Then, masterpiece though it might have been, she flung it suddenly into the nearby Forge…

Its metals were precious, and they should have been melted down and reused. The circuitry could have been rewired… But no… The failure would forever stare her from the shape of the very faceplate she created…

No matter how intelligent… No matter how POWERFUL… The levels she could sense were always so much lower than… Than…!

She arched and let loose a bellowing howl… A roar that echoed through each of the caves, bounding off of each wall until it became a thunderous, distant screech…

The General lifted her head… And then leaned idly upon her seat, returning to contemplation… She was unperturbed by the noise… In fact, its threatening echo seemed to refocus her…

She was in a throne room of carved stone… An amount of lesser robots, simple and mass produced designs with little general intelligence derisively called ‘Dummies’, were still in the process of chipping, shaping, and reinforcing the walls for both their beauty and strength.

A Soldier knows no defeat… A Soldier knows no surrender. And a Soldier is always prepared…

“Sister…!”

The regal Forgeborn Elite on the throne lifted her head once more. Her counterpart, so similar in design and yet so different in personality and aims, swept into the room. She had her blade settled across her shoulders, polished and sharpened…

Forgemother Mars had been the leader of the Soldiers aboard the Loving Burden. Her analytical mind was genius in combat, and as all Forgemothers did, she created Elite to carry out her will… In this case, Mars was a ruthless sort…

...it is said that she created a dozen candidates to be her ‘daughter’… And the final trial was a fight to the death in an arena…

Only the winner emerged worthy of her station…

Or in this case, the winners…

Jorien, the cocky one who had just approached, flicked her sword from her shoulders and took its hilt in hand. She stabbed it into the stone in front of her, folding her hands on its pommel and lifting her chin proudly… Her regal design shone brighter than every lesser Forgeborn around her…

“Noble sister… Dear Osiria…! We have guests…”

“...Mnh.”

Osiria shifted on the throne and turned her head away. She was… frustrated, to say the least…

Soldiers were a highly prized caste, treated as Nobility in the Forgeborn society. War was a game to them, fought with expendable pieces so that the Generals could prove their mental and martial might. But without a foe to face, Osiria was simply a figurehead on a throne, supervising the creation of pretty statues…

“Who this time?” she finally asked, unwilling to put too much thought into it. Jorien chuckled and swayed softly, the fire in her eyes glinting with excitement…

“It is the Rangers… And as requested, they have allowed a meeting with the Newborn…”

Now Osiria was paying attention. She turned and sat up a bit, then stood entirely…

“...I see…”

She strode past her sister stoically, without another word. Jorien was used to such coldness, and yanked her sword free from where it was planted to follow along…

“Do you now? I hear that this method of reproduction is supposed to be superior to the old way...”

“It isn’t merely supposed…” Osiria spoke, hands folded behind her back as she walked through the halls of the mountain they had turned into a mine and fortress alike… “The readings the Scientists sent to us… They’re real. And yet Vex can’t understand why this method has so much success. She claims she could program for a million cycles and still she would have only a pale imitation of this so-called Princess…”

“Mmm, do you know anything of it? The method I mean…” Jorien said. Osiria stepped out onto a balcony, peering down the side of the mountain. Various small structures had been constructed on it… Paths and caves sliced through rock as easily as paper… The Forgeborn were unstoppable…

...But this new Princess… Somehow, her potential was greater than all of them…

Osiria settled her hand on the baclony’s rail. She didn’t look at her sister as she spoke… Instead, her eyes were focused unwavering on the lumbering approach of the ugly Caravans…

The Rangers rarely put such grand circumstance into their appearances. Often it was merely one trader or emissary. The fact they were rolling out the red carpet gave the Twin Generals pause, as the reality of the situation became all too stark and clear…

“...No.” Osiria finally answered, her hand settling subtly near her own blade’s sheathe, and on her midsection… “But I predict it is something we will know much of soon enough...”

The lumbering caravan trundled to a stop at the base of the mountain…

Loremaster Willow emerged… Another Ranger slipped past to tend to the ailing ally in the room behind.

Alphi remained settled in her arm. Usually she sat quite tall, eager to look around and see everything… Each sight she absorbed seemed to expand her imagination just a bit further…

Now, however, a subtle fear was starting to creep into her chest. She clung to Willow firmly, as if worried she’d be snatched away at a moment’s notice...

“Potential…” Willow said to her, as she stepped down to the ground easily… “Keep this word in mind. You have immense potential…”

“Everyone does keep saying that about me…” Alphi spoke softly. The Princess glanced up at the Forgeborn who had always taken such good care of her… Tall and slender as her name, and as graceful as a stork. Her peering eyes locked onto Alphi’s…

“You do, Princess. You have power inside you that, until your creation, was locked away within a single other Forgemother…”

Alphi glanced forward. Her hands subtly settled on her middle…

“...You mean the Grand Forgemother…”

“Indeed… Allma’s name be praised, but you might even exceed her… Still… Take care, my dear. Just because you have momentum doesn’t mean you are yet speeding through the stars, hm…?”

The Princess furrowed her brow deeper. She knew that despite everything, she was still a vulnerable little Forgeborn. If these Soldiers wished, they could likely defeat her, and every one of the Rangers besides…

Her eyes flicked back to the forest… It was no wonder her fellow Rangers felt so safe only in the swaying, natural beauty of the trees, some of which were as tall as the buildings on their home world…

Imposing… Grand, and implacable, and all grown from something as tiny as a seed...

They walked forward. A group of a half dozen fellow Rangers clustered just behind, letting the Loremaster lead the way with her loping strides. All of them were alert to the potential danger here…

They walked under a carved archway and down a paved road. The camp was spread wide at the base of the mountain, and its structures were strewn across the wall. So much of the world’s resources, wasted to make pretty decorations…

Osiria couldn’t agree more…

She remained with her arms crossed. Jorien’s eyes gleamed with excitement as the Rangers approached them, and eventually stood across from them…

They were in what could be called a town square… A meeting place, and a rally point. It was little more than a wide circle of paved tiles, allowing anything to be staged that the Sister Generals desired…

It didn’t matter if they wanted their armies to line up and display their might… Nor if they needed equipment assembled, or…

...or an impromptu arena.

Willow bowed heavily. Princess Alphi did the same from her perch…

“Hail to you, Twin Generals of Our Vaunted Protectors. I trust then that my message was well received…”

“Tch.” Jorien rolled her eyes and scraped her sword across the stone floor in front of her. Sparks flew, and a deep gouge was made…

“We don’t care about your silly formalities, lowly Loretracker. Go on! Bring us the Princess…”

Willow’s eyes narrowed. Alphi’s face pressed tighter against her chest.

Osiria turned her head to glare at her sister...

“...We must remember, this is a clade who already submits to our whims, Jorien...”

“Heh!” Jorien twirled her sword and settled it across her shoulders. She lifted her chin smugly…

“Well obviously…” the General spoke, idly moving a couple steps to one side, and then the other… “Do you take me for some gut-splicer Scientist? I only wanted to see…”

“Enough.” Osiria spoke. Her voice seemed to make the ground tremble, if only for how forceful it was, despite the grim Forgeborn never raising it above a casual tone. Jorien stopped her restless pacing and gave her sister a subtle glare…

“You claim to have something more powerful than any of us. There in your arm, isn’t she?” Osiria asked…

Alphi cringed softly, as Willow raised an arm in a subtle gesture of protection…

“...She is born of a curious method. Forgemother Gaia invented a kind of… Internal forge. It produced Princess Alphi here, her heir… who too has this ability.”

The Loretracker’s hand settled on Alphi’s subtly curved middle. There was seemingly nothing inside but machinery…

Potential…

Osiria glanced at Jorien, who glanced back. They were communicating without a single word… Was this foolishness? It was nothing more than a tiny little Forgeborn with no obviously threatening weaponry…

Jorien scoffed. Osiria, however, had far more forethought. Even if Willow wasn’t being tricky enough to hide certain features, what she’d said was alone enough to make her wary…

“Her energy potential… Off our current charts…” Willow continued, stepping forward. Her grip tightened softly to ensure an increasingly tense Alphi that she wouldn’t be harmed…

“Her processors run at a speed we can’t match with our most cutting edge technology… Her outer shell is nigh invulnerable to common weaponry…”

“Hohohoho!”

Jorien interrupted it all with a barking laugh. Willow froze, and the General Sister strode up to her confidently, She only stopped far enough way to swing her sword and place its tip against Willow’s face-plate. The Loretracker didn’t flinch…

“What you’re describing is a legend beyond our dreams… But not the Grand Forgemother. SURELY you don’t mean to tell us that Galaxia herself wouldn’t match this…”

She looked down at Alphi…

“...this… Newborn… Heh…”

The Shining Ivory Blademistress twirled her gleaming sword… It was an impressively engineered piece of technology; made of near invincible metals and shaped into a penetrating spiral. Even with the abuse it suffered at her grandstanding grasp, it had not a mark on it…

She had earned her cocky, lazy attitude. Her hips swayed subtly…

“Are you claiming then… That this is a Forgeborn who could surpass Blessed Allma herself…?

Willow, though taller, glanced aside. Her grip subtly loosened… Alphi could tell, she wasn’t sure what to say…

After a moment, the Princess finally stood on her arm. The balancing act was trivial enough that she didn’t even notice it. She let her cloak flutter softly in the light breeze as she matched Jorien’s eyeline…

“I could.” Alphi spoke, firmly. The collected Forgeborn gasped in shock. Willow cringed. Osiria’s eyes widened in surprise…

Jorien only grinned with excitement…

“Bold of you to insult our dear creator… Blasphemous… Ha! I like it...”

She turned around, pulling up her sword and twirling it. Her back to them, Alphi finally crouched a bit, nervous at the fact that her proclamation had gained far more of a reaction than she expected… After all, hadn’t Willow told her that her potential was so high?

“Foolish girl…” hissed Willow, as Jorien laughed again, louder and more excited than before…

“The divinity of a Forgeborn who managed to grant us the gift of Sensation… Who bound our very thoughts with the Signal so that we would ne’er be truly gone… Whose loving ministrations and guidance are why we’re here on this beautiful world today…!”

She spun suddenly and swung her sword… Though she was not near enough to actually slice the two Rangers in front of her, the force of the shockwave made Alphi tumble out of Willow’s arms…

Willow reacted instantly, turning to see where the Princess had landed. She was only a short distance away, rubbing her head…

...but before the Loretracker could move over to her, she felt a pair of hands firmly grab her arms…

“Do not interfere… We are merely going to teach her a lesson in respect...” Osiria spoke, gravely… “This insult to the Grand Forgemother demands some manner of recompense, fool. If she is so strong as you claim, then you should not be fearful, hm? We will not deactivate her… unless she is weak.”

Willow struggled against Osiria’s grasp, as Jorien casually walked towards the fallen Princess, still twirling her sword intricately…

“You don’t seem like such a big deal to me… Especially not a big enough deal to say such horrid things about the Grand Forgemother…”

Alphi pushed herself up onto all fours and was about to protest. Instead she found Jorien’s foot slamming into her chest to knock her back across the tiles again…

“Go on then… show me, little insect. Forge an army of stone and soil to defeat even a supreme General as I!”

She laughed heartily as Alphi pushed herself to a shaky stand. She looked behind her, at the treeline… It was far away, and the circle of pavement was being surrounded by eager Soldiers, always excited to see a rebellious robot get shredded… Especially one so bold as to spit in the face of their distant leader…

The Princess stood and balled her fists. Her eyes darted from the struggling Willow, back to the approaching Jorien… She hesitated…

Jorien’s eyes flashed and she suddenly dashed towards her foe. She swung her arm to backhand her, sending her flying once more…

This time, though the Sensation caused her pain, she landed gracefully and skidded to a stop. The crowd murmured in surprise…

“Ahaha! Well, you are at least TOUGH… Most Forgeborn your size would have crumpled under even a single blow from me… Impressive that you managed to land on your feet…!”

“...Loretracker Willow has taught me well… I know how to move…”

“Do you?” Jorien asked, her voice tinged with an almost unhealthy excitement… Sparring with Dummies or her Sister was driving her mad. She longed for a challenge. She hoped this little insect’s mythical strength would be the break in her boredom…

She rushed forward and swiped her spiral blade. She was surprised to find no resistance… Alphi had managed to dodge even the lightning fast strike of the General…!

“I DO.” Alphi spat… “I meant no insult to the Grand Forgemother… I don’t know her! I was born HERE!”

“Then why bother letting you amble about to learn haphazardly? If you’re really as valuable as they say… You’ll be better on a Scientist’s table than stumbling about the woods! Come here… You… RGH!”

Jorien swiped repeatedly… But since Alphi was no longer off guard, she was able to dodge and weave expertly. Willow had stopped her fruitless struggles to watch with more than a hint of pride…

“...if I didn’t know better…” Osiria spoke… “I’d think you forged that little worm… But the craftsmanship is divine, isn’t it? It could only come from a Forgemother… Not a lowly planet surveyor as you…”

Willow didn’t turn to look, nor respond. Her eyes were locked on Alphi’s movements… They were so weightless that it might have been a dance in zero-g…

“...So tell me then Willow… This… Alphi. If Zochosa created her… Then… Why are you the one escorting the Princess about…?”

Willow finally jerked her head to look back. Her glare deepened. Osiria matched it. For a few moments, the two robots braced themselves for a real conflict…

“AHH!”

They were both distracted as Jorien finally had enough, and swiped twice in rapid fury. The Princess attempted to dodge, but was struck once more. She was lucky that the General had, so far, not attempted to pierce her, instead striking only glancing blows...

She tumbled and came to a stop… She pushed herself up to her knees, only to find Jorien had landed in front of her…

“...so much for that so-called power… A blasphemer like you only has one fate…”

Jorien gripped her heavy sword in both hands. She lifted it…

“NO!” Willow screamed. Osiria blinked, too surprised by Jorien’s shift from sparring to killing to do anything to stop her from bringing the blade down and…

TNK!

The arena was silent… Not a Forgeborn there made a sound… No cheers rang out, and no laughter could be heard…

There was only shock on their faces… Willow, Osiria, and especially Jorien…

...the Princess had managed to catch the spiral blade between her thin palms… And stop it dead…

Jorien yanked the sword back and took a step away, stunned. Alphi huffed and pushed herself to a stand, letting her cloak fall around her shoulders…

Her shadow spilled over the whole of the gathered Forgeborn, in the day’s dying light…

“...Enough.” Osiria said once again… Though this time, it didn’t need to be said. Jorien wasn’t making any moves. Alphi had no desire to continue the battle either…

Willow stepped up to her and scooped her into her arm… She remained dignified… She stood straight, and tried not to let the others see how tightly she was holding onto the Princess…

“...Satisfied? We have other tasks besides meeting you here. I didn’t expect to be attacked…”

Osiria’s brow furrowed…  But she tilted her head to gesture, and Willow turned quickly to move back to the caravan, whispering apologies the whole way. Alphi sighed heavily and slumped… She didn’t say anything, but she would remember these two for certain…

Jorien, the smirking maniac who seemed ready to lop off the heads near her in a moment, was cowed and quiet. Her passion sputtered momentarily, as she walked back to her sister and looked for guidance…

Osiria, the stoical stone who could not be broken, was cracked. Her expression was wide eyed and a fire of passion had ignited there that hadn’t been there since long before they were trapped on Ova…

“...I think, Jorien. This is… Something we must pay attention to, isn’t it?”

“...she… she blocked my…”

Osiria raised an eyebrow… But she turned and walked away, not looking back to see Jorien reluctantly following, starting to spark and sputter once more in frustration… In ANGER…

“She blocked my STRIKE…!” she muttered breathlessly, with a snarl just barely contained behind it...

The two Generals entered their fortress once more, awash with fear and worry over a future that had seemed so sure before the wild card was thrown…

High in the mountain, a thick window of crystal peered out over the scene…

The shadow behind it stared… Her gears turned and internals thundered with machinery… A drumbeat demanding a march… A SACRIFICE…

She turned and took up her hammer again. She gripped a chisel and placed it against her own frame… In the wavering glow of her forge, the robot brought the hammer down, and screamed...