1
The lights, the music, the stage – it was like a dance. A beautiful conglomerate that has no equal to its spectacle. An unending phenomena which knows no ennui. The keys on the piano hopped up and down in response to her nimble fingers. The sounds dancing and enveloping the stage like a wildfire.
The accompaniment, an army of strings, followed her alacritous tempo. The constant prestissimo (178 BPM) knows no end, being played as if it was something that a toddler could do. A performance befitting her prestige – befitting perfection.
The notes growing louder and louder towards a grand crescendo – a grand finale with no equal. At its peak, like a meteor crashing to the ground, her fingers tapped the keys so forcefully it was like she was smashing it. The sound of the strings had died down. The song of the piano, lingered still.
Once it had all faded, when there was only silence and calm, a girl clapped her hands. "Wonderful performance, dearest sister." She hopped down from the piano, feeling the soft grass and soil beneath her heels. "Nothing but perfection, I expect nothing less, dearest sister."
Her words were given no answer, "Oh my, look at the time, dearest sister. We must go home now, or else father dearest might get mad." Once more, her words were met with no answers.
"Then again…I suppose a cute face would let us off the hook, he is stricter on brother dearest after all." This girl was speaking only to herself, no one else. "Oh, while we're at it, do remind me to buy some bribery for brother dearest. He has been a bit cranky for always being our scapegoat."
The girl patted her skirt which had no visible dirt on them and raised her hands. From the rings on her fingers, out came threads too thin to see if not for the reflecting light. The girl she had referred to as 'dearest sister' stood up, following the movement of her hands.
"Oh no!" The girl exclaimed while examining the figure in front of her. "Your joints, they seem to be on the edge of breaking. The gears all look worn too, dearest sister." She puts one hand on her cheek as a sign of perplexity. "To think, my most wondrous and dearly beloved perfect sister would be hampered by the inferior gears that plagued her." She pouted.
"I suppose I'm not mad at you per say, dearest sister. I'm just disappointed that none of the gears that are manufactured can keep up with you." She moved her hands once more, causing the puppet to stand next to her. "Let's go, dearest sister."
She walked away from the empty marionette stage, controlling her puppet to walk beside her as if she really was her sister. "Ah yes, you all did a lovely job today too, see you another day." She gave a half-hearted bow to the stage while never stopping her steps.
The puppet opened the door for her on her command, revealing the bright skies beyond this abandoned theater. "Thank you, dearest sister." She walked briskly, tapping the heels of her high-boots against the stone pavement.
It was still ten in the morning, the grand clock tower in the center of their city – Modrata – tolled the time without stopping. The girl narrowed her eyes at it as she walked to the nearest escalator.
The grand clock tower, a Magnum Opus which has known no stoppage since its creation. For centuries it has ticked its constant moderato perpetually. Not a single soul know who made it or how it was made. Such things are lost to time.
However, a single rumor remains. Of an item, known only as the Nachash and that it was the reason why it hasn't stopped ticking. But such a thing is simply a rumor.
The girl entered a shop, eyeing what she needed as bribery. "Thank you, dearest sister, now where are the gears we're looking for?"
A singular man came out from a room out back and with snake-like smile he asked, "Ah, Miss Laurent. Are you looking for a size twelve gear? Or perhaps something larger? Oh, how many teeth this time?" He rubbed his hands expectantly.
"No, Arland dear. None of that I'm afraid." The man's wolf-like ears twitched. "I am looking…for what it is my brother needs for his opus. Whatever in the world it is." Arland's ears perked up in response.
"Oh, why don't you say so, madam? Your brother has been looking for a small gear, a size five with a staggering thirty-two teeth. Such a thing is almost impossible to find." He dove behind the counter and pulled out a single, small box. "Well, I'll be looking forward for your family's continued patronage."
"Oh, Arland, dear. You don't have to worry a thing." She smiled devilishly. "So long as we have what we need."
The two smiled mischievously as Arland slowly opened the box. Inside it was a gold gear with a head-numbing amount of teeth. The sheer existence of said gear made her wonder if she should try to buy another one to replace her 'sister's' parts.
When the bell of the door chimed, she was taken out of her trance, remembering herself. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a gear." A light child-like voice belonging to a girl called out into the store.
Arland looked annoyed but answered nonetheless, "I'll be with you in a moment, I am…currently preoccupied with other matters."
"Oh I won't be long." She explained. "Please? I need it for my opus." When she begged, Arland looked ready to shout at her, when a hand stopped him.
"Hello dear, what are you looking for?" She asked.
The small girl, looking no older than nine, looked up at her. Her dark blue eyes seeming to complement her bright blue hair. "Do you work here, miss?"
"Not quite, dear." She lowered herself to meet her gaze. "I'm the keeper's friend. I know where all the gears are placed. My name is Genevieve, it's a pleasure to meet you miss…?"
"Lizbeth, Miss Genevieve." Her eyes wondered all throughout the store before landing unto the puppet. "Is that your opus, miss?"
Genevieve gave a prideful smile. "It's my Magnum opus; my dearest sister, Eve." She moved the puppet closer with a motion of her hands. "Say hello, dearest sister." With another motion, the puppet gave a curtsy.
"Amazing!"
"So, what are you looking for, Lizbeth?" The girl looked around the store, a trinket in her hand. "What is that, Lizbeth?" Genevieve pointed towards her hands.
Lizbeth raised the trinket hesitantly, "It's my opus."
"That's wonderful!" Genevieve clapped her hands together. "What do you need to complete it?" Lizbeth looked down at her opus hesitantly. "What's wrong, dear?"
"Can I… Can I make a Magnum Opus like yours?" Her eyes lit up at the puppet.
"Why of course! It is in our right to take the stars, we simply have to reach for it."
"The Artisan's Maxim!" She called out.
"Exactly! Now what do you need, Lizbeth dearest?"
After the little girl left the building, Genevieve walked back to Arland. "Forgive me, Miss Laurent, I should've closed the shop. It won't happen again, I promise you."
"Oh, I hope so, Arland." She said while fixing her 'sister's' clothes. "There, perfect! I hope you won't play favorites like that ever again. All artisans are equal, Arland. Best you remember that next time I come here."
"Y-yes, miss Laurent. I-it won't happen again, Miss Laurent." Arland bowed sincerely atop the table.
"Good. Now then, the centerpiece if you don't mind, Arland dear." She motioned her hand elegantly.
Once more, the small box opened again revealing its contents. It was a Forger's work that seemed to be dreamed up by a madman. As to why her brother needed it, she did not know. "Marvelous!" Arland gave a prideful smile at the remark. "Your network is astounding as ever, Arland dear."
"It's an honor to hear you say that, Miss Laurent."
"Do you suppose…" She stopped hesitantly, but ultimately, she was desperate. "Do you suppose you have someone in your network that can help me with my predicament?" She asked.
Arland grimaced, "That is…a tall order, Miss Laurent. What you need is something like a myth. A fairy tale. Nothing that a Forger could make."
"I understand, I was simply asking. How much do I owe for this little miracle in my hands?"
"Nothing at all, Miss Laurent, it's been paid for. Although, if my name were to circulate…" He whispered suspiciously.
"I understand, if my acquaintances require assistance then…" She leaned in closer and whispered, "What of the specific orders? Should I refer them to you too?"
Arland shrugged. "Only the most trustworthy."
"Only the most." Genevieve gave a curtsy and walked out.
In this city, Modrata, there are five levels of the city. The higher the level, the higher one's prestige as a Forger, Artisan, Keeper, or Virtuoso. To traverse them was to use the Magnum Opus; the escalators. A magnificent piece of machinery operated by the cogs and gears that keeps on winding, powered by the kinetic energy of the rivers on the lowest level.
The Laurents lived in the fourth level of Modrata and Arland's shop was within the first level. The only way to climb the levels is to raise one's prestige – one's reputation. The easiest way for keepers are to provide the items that Artisans or Forgers needed. Even if some of them were 'special' made-to-order.
In the same way how an Artisan or Forger would need witnesses to their opus, Keepers would also need patrons to their business. The idea of itself was nothing more than a status symbol. The way of life for those in the first level and those in the fourth level were not dissimilar. Of course, the more famous a person become, the more trusted their opus would be – so it wasn't without advantages.
The idea of riches itself was not something that weigh too heavily on the residence of Modrata. Money was something that was seen as temporary, finite. Whereas their opus was something that was eternal – the proof of their existence.
Most residence of Modrata live inside moderately-sized to mansion-sized buildings. The reason for that is, one; they would need to flaunt their grandeur – their prestige. And two; they need the space for their workshops, ateliers, and studies.
Artisans and Forgers alike needs space in their houses where they can work undisturbed. The idea of them working in a factory for their opus is a foolish one, but not unheard of. The factories exists solely as a way of mass-production which would need staff to operate, what better than Artisans and Forgers honing their skills? Even without, there exists government drafted individuals who works in the factories.
Genevieve entered her house after unlocking its mechanisms. The sound of gears and cogs turning, interlocking, and ticking was one that made her smile. "I'm home!" She called out into the house. Not a single answer came but she stood still.
After five minutes, her brother came down the stairs to greet his beloved sister. "Gen! Welcome back!" He opened his arms to hug her. "So? Anything to keep my mouth shut from father?" He whispered to her ears.
"A size five gear with thirty-two teeth, brother dearest." She whispered back.
"Thanks for helping with my errand, Gen!" He shouted loudly into the house. "I don't think father would buy anything we'd say about you though." He added with a playful smile.
"So long as you don't betray me, brother dearest, I have no complaints." She curtsied.
"What a charmer you are. I remember you being cuter when you were younger and…" His eyes trailed to her opus. "…saner." He then shrugged and continued, "Speaking of cute and sane, Melody was looking for you this morning. I won't berate your obsession of your dearest sister, but do try to dote on your own for once."
"I do dote on melody! She's the loveliest sister I could ever hope for." She covered her lips, appalled at her brother's words.
"And yet, you obsessed over that…thing." His words caused Genevieve to flinch, moving the doll a bit.
"Do be careful, brother dearest. Even if you are my beloved brother, I will not tolerate a slight at her." Genevieve glared at him.
Her brother raised his arms in resignation. "Only a joke, dearest sister. Come, father was looking for you." He chuckled playfully.
Genevieve followed her brother with the puppet following them. They went up the stairs and entered the study where their father was tinkering away on an opus on the table. It was a small rectangular watch with leather straps. Lately, he has been finding interest in making watches with differing mechanisms.
"Gen is here, father." Her brother informed.
Their father looked up for a moment before pushing away the microscope from his glasses. "Ah, thank you, Philippe. Now, Genevieve, what was it you were doing?"
Genevieve simply closed her eyes without saying anything. "Father, she was running an errand for me, did I forgot to mention?"
"And what was this errand?" He scrutinized his son's face.
"Well, I needed her to buy me a gear, nothing too outlandish."
"Hmm." He hummed. "Where?"
"Our usual keeper."
"Is that so? Because I recall Gaspard needing to meet with a Forger today." He stood from his table and stared at Genevieve. "What was it you were doing?"
Genevieve shrugged, "Surprisingly, father dearest, he's telling the truth."
Their father turned to him once more. "…Arland?"
He didn't say anything, simply trying his hardest not to break while his sister is smirking next to him. "…To be fair, father, who else would find a size five thirty-two teethed gear?"
Their father sigh and massaged his temple. "I suppose…If anyone catches wind of this…"
"You could always sever ties with me, father dearest. It is the safest route." Her family members looked at her as if she was insane. "It was merely a jest at my expense. Honestly though, I don't understand why it's fine to use some keeper's gears and not others." She lied, knowing the answer fully.
"That is not the problem, Gen." Their father sighed as he seated himself. "There exists a group of people who would pretend to be Artisans, Forgers, and Keepers; the Counterfeiters. They're the kinds who would create inferior opuses to be given away for money."
"Why? Quite a trivial aim." Genevieve shrug.
"Such a thing is insulting to the Maxim, to the Grand Clockwork. They are the parasites, scum, and filth." He sighed. "Arland does not discriminate between true Forgers and Counterfeiters. You'd do well not to embarrass yourself with faulty gears." He warned. "Do you understand, Genevieve?"
"I understand now, father dearest. Thank you for the lecture, I'll keep that in mind." She moved towards the puppet and brushed its synthetic hair. "I wouldn't want any of that to taint my dearest sister after all." Seeing the scene, the two could only sigh at her eccentrics.
"Do not forget, you are not an Artisan yet. I urge you to just create a simple opus for your Artisan license, my dear." Their father warned as he examined his opus once more.
"Where's the fun in that, father dearest?" She answered while leaving with her brother.
When the two left the room and made their way downstairs, her brother commented, "'I understand now?' Are you sure you don't want to become a Virtuoso? You'd do well on the acting stage." He laughed.
"Please, brother dearest. Such things are not meant for me, I'm just a better liar than you. In addition, I can't play the fool anymore thanks to you." She glared at him.
"You're welcome, anything to not let you get away with your antics, dearest sister." He smirked. "Before you say anything, this doesn't count as betrayal since I didn't say anything about anything." He added.
For a moment, Genevieve thought about smacking his head with her 'dearest sister's' hands – but only for a moment. "Ah, speaking of dearest sisters, Melody is in the park now. You'd do well to dote on her before she resents you. She's with our mother, so perhaps, the doll might-" his words were cut by her piercing glare. "-perhaps your 'dearest sister' might be better left at home. Clockwork knows she's in need of maintenance."
Hearing a good advice from him was rare but not unwelcome. Considering the strain she forced on her 'dearest sister' this morning, she wondered if she'll become irreparable. With that thought in mind, she left the doll inside her own workshop.
2
The park is located on the fifth level, where the sunlight was not impeded. Many would take leisure strolls or to simply bask in the morning sun on the fifth level when the fancy suits them. Conversely, those who want to hide away from the sun's embrace would go to the lower levels. Genevieve herself found it to be more comfortable in the first level, where all the luminescent plants inhabit.
Putting aside her preferences, Genevieve herself can understand the allure of the fifth level. Seeing all the families and children spending their time together was picturesque, making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Her heels kept tapping away against the stone streets as her eyes wandered to and fro. She'd witness the citizens of Modrato hustling and bustling all around her, reminding her how much life this city has. She also noted that most of the citizens on the upper levels are not using velocipede unlike the first level. Most of the factories are located on the first level, so commuting with them might save energy before working in the factories.
Whichever the case was, Genevieve never really thought about trying or even learning how to ride a velocipede. While they are a magnificent Magnum Opus, she had always thought of them as still being too droll. On the other hand, the Magnum Opus; the train was something she was interested in.
The train is a vehicle that uses multiple wheels with three giant cogs in the middle to move. All of which are propelled by kinetic energy of a winch. After winding up the gears for motion, a device within the train itself made it possible for the train to sustain its movement energy by its own motion. To put simply, the train's acceleration generates power so it can maintain acceleration. Something that Genevieve do not know how to achieve with her doll.
"GEN!" Her younger sister's voice broke the trance she had, causing her to spot her amongst the park goers. She was still only ten, slightly older than the girl she met this morning. Her hair was golden blonde, similar to hers and fathers as opposed to their brother's and mother's hazelnut hair.
"Ah, sister dearest, mother dearest." Genevieve curtsied to the two. "Are you two having fun?"
"Not quite, sister dearest!" Melody mirrored her speech. "I wanted to work on my opus but mother dearest forbade me." She pouted as she went to hug her sister's waist.
"Oh? Why is that, mother dearest?"
"She wanted to meet with Arland this morning…at least, after your brother let out that you went there for him." She gave a kind and cold smile.
"Ah…I suppose…nothing gets past you, mother dearest." Genevieve hung her head.
"Of course not. Between your father and I, I'm much more of a savant. Though I'm not as much of a worrywart as he is." She took a drink from a flask that was resting on their bench.
"Then why not let her come with?"
"Are you mad, Gen? Arland will no doubt use her to his advantage. Melody is not as cunning or cruel as you are. Honestly, I wonder who she got her innocence from." She chuckled.
"Regardless of who, she's still my adorable sister dearest." Genevieve said while raising her to the sky.
While Melody was laughing happily, she turned to a pout. "Mother, don't call Gen cruel! Gen, I thought you were on my side?"
The two laughed at her words as their mother opened her arms for Melody. Genevieve handed her all too light younger sister to her mother and sat next the two. "Did you ask Arland if he had anything to help you and your…dearest sister?" Melody flinched at her mother's words.
"Is now really the time to discuss this, mother dearest?" Genevieve patted her younger sister, knowing she dislikes talking about Eve.
"Your obsession is maddening. Not just for me." Her mother let Melody go who sat down between the two with an annoyed look on her face. "Melody?"
She didn't want to say anything so Genevieve patted her, "It's fine. I understand."
Feeling the warmth of her sister's hand she grumbled, "…Am I not enough for a sister?"
Genevieve chuckled and hugged her sister. "It's nothing like that, sister dearest. You are a wonderful and fantastic little sister. My most beloved little sister. What I wanted is a perfect older sister, something that can be a perfect older sister for you too."
Hearing her words, Melody hugged her. "You are the perfect older sister for me."
The two let Melody go back to frolic around the park. Though she said that she wanted to work on her opus more, she was more fitted to be a free and untethered Virtuoso as their mother. For now, Melody was still looking up to Genevieve as her goal.
"Would all of your obsession not exist had I given birth to an older sister?" Her mother commented.
"No." Genevieve said with resolution. "If you did, she wouldn't have been perfect."
Genevieve was getting frustrated. The motioning of her doll was extreme, to the point of reaching its breaking point. She was playing an old composition that her mother made years prior to her birth. A piece that would jump from prestissimo (178 BPM) to grave (20 BPM) then back to prestissimo.
The gears at her joints were creaking and crying. Her limbs started to feel the feedback of the movement. Yet, no matter how much abuse her body went through she was not allowed to stop, not even for a single second.
In the end, her 'dearest sister' broke under the strain. The gears of her right wrist couldn't hold up the force that they exerted and snapped, causing the song to finish incomplete. All that was left was a frustrated Genevieve who could only narrow her eyes at the doll.
She took a deep breath to remember herself. With a clap of her hand, she said, "I'm not angry, dearest sister, not at you. I blame the Forgers who can't fit your specifications." She sighed. "Cogdammit." She clicked her tongue. "I'm sorry, dearest sister. It seems I've become too frustrated. Let us head home!" With a half-hearted curtsy, she said her farewells to the stage and the dolls left there.
With the frustration still fresh in her mind, she made her way to Arland's shop. "Forgive me, Miss Laurent, but I cannot fulfill your wishes without prior order." He said with his usual grin.
"I suppose I can't expect you to." Her tone grave. As her eyes landed on the doll that would perhaps remain imperfect, she started to wonder aloud, "I really do need a miracle."
Hearing those words, Arland's ears droop. "P-perhaps there is a different gear you're looking for, Miss Laurent?"
"Oh, did I say that aloud? Don't trouble yourself with it, Arland dear. Even I know that what I want is nothing more than a cruel childish dream." She chuckled loudly. "It would've been nice if I could keep the dream going however." She said so quietly neither was sure if it was accidental or not.
Seeing her dejected visage, Arland opened his mouth, "…The Nachash…." Her eyes lit up and stared at Arland. It struck him like he was a deer in the headlights.
"Arland my friend, you better not have said that in an attempt to cheer me up. All you're getting is my ire if you did."
Arland lowered his head, wondering if this was the right thing to do. "…I've heard rumors…about it as of late. That someone…in Piagrado have found traces of it. That- that it's real."
Genevieve grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "What do you want? Why are you telling me this? What are you trying to do?" She glared at him.
This was the first time Arland had ever seen her like this, though he could hazard a guess as to why. "Miss Laurent, I might be the person you think I am, but I'm no monster. All I ever ask from you is your continued patronage and your referral, nothing more." He whimpered, terrified for his life.
Genevieve let his collar go and straighten out his shirt. "You're right…yes, you're right. My apologies, I forgot myself in the moment." She chuckled. "Still, informing me of such things would only bring misfortune to yourself. After all, how can I be a patron or even refer when I'm not in Modrata?"
"I cannot dispute that. However, I am a keeper first and foremost, and it is our job to circulate whatever it is that are needed. In honesty, I do not have what you are looking for, I simply have the…possibility of what you needed." He said regrettably.
"…To think, you'd be willing to do something for me without anything in return. Surprising."
"We are friends, are we not?" The two gave smiles that knew those words were only lies. "Fair enough. It is simply a rumor, nothing more. I stand to gain nothing, I stand to lose nothing. You on the other hand…" His words trail off, knowing that this was nothing more than a wild goose chase.
"Thank you for your information, I will keep it in the back of my mind." She turned and motioned so the doll would follow her.
"Miss Laurent!" Arland stopped her in her tracks. "For what it's worth, I do hope you find what you're looking for. I do not wish misfortune nor ill will towards you and your family. I trust you know that."
Arland is a cunning man at times. He is a keeper who simply wish to rise the levels of Modrata. He is not evil nor cruel. He is not good nor charitable. All he is, is a keeper living his life from day-to-day. An utterly gray morale of a man. "Thank you, Arland dear." Genevieve left the store with those words.
After that day, Arland would not see Genevieve for a very long time. Years would pass until she'd returned to Modrata. By that point, Arland will be living in the third level of the city, happily tending to his patrons equally. Yet, a guilty conscience attached itself to him since that day.
Regardless of how much he wishes, of how much he prayed and hope, he knew. Even if the rumor did come from a reputable source, the guilt would not lessen. In his heart of hearts, he knew that the Nachash was not real.
1
"Are you sure about this? Father would have my head if he knew." It was a cold morning, Philippe hugged the jacket that was enveloping him for warmth.
"That is exactly why he mustn't know, brother dearest." Genevieve on the other hand was tending to her doll, wearing her white and blue travel clothes. "And if you need some help with the deception, mother dearest would help your endeavor."
"Mother? You'd think she won't tell father immediately?"
"If she will, she'd have done it earlier instead of following us." Curious about her statement, Philippe turned his body before being stopped by Genevieve's words, "She's hiding within the bushes we passed earlier, far from the escalator to this station. If she had something to say, she'd have said it then."
Seeing the certainty in her eyes, Philippe couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not too late for you to become a Virtuoso. Mother would be delighted if a one were to appear in the family."
"Don't jest about that. You know full well my heart's an Artisan's." She was after all, his little sister. "The train's arriving."
Beyond the city, a vehicle of multiple cars attached to one another was driving up the suspended tracks. Genevieve had always seen this silhouette atop the tracks but never this close.
The train was made up of three driving cars and six passenger cars. The first, third, and last cart all had a gigantic gear in its middle to propel the vehicle forwards or backwards. The gears' teeth all revolve to latch onto the suspended tracks to push the train forward. While the size of the gears were magnificent feats by the Forgers, Genevieve's eyes were trained on the intricate details of the train.
How the gears, cogs, metals, and mechanical parts were interlocked to one another making the whole thing move with minimal energy. How the tracks were specifically designed so that the train would be able to move along it. Even the design of the cars themselves were prioritizing the comfort of the passengers, with each having a lower level for luggage and storage. It was a magnificent Magnum Opus that she wanted to take apart and rebuilt to see what makes it tick.
"Gen?" Philippe called out, breaking her trance.
She cleared her throat, "Forgive me, brother dearest. I've not seen one up close, it is exhilarating." Realizing her words, she asked her brother, "Have you seen them? You don't seem that excited."
"Excited? My beloved younger sister is leaving for a different city all by herself. It causes me no end of worry." He sighed. "Also, father invited me when he went to Rubatre, it was exhilarating." He added with a smirk.
Genevieve smacked her brother's shoulder. "Haha, sorry. However, I'm more surprised you weren't more excited at the suspended tracks. Don't you use Magicks for your…'dearest sister'?"
Genevieve turned to her doll. "A means to an end. At the end of the day, I'm an Artisan, brother dearest, not a Magus. The limitations of Magicks are just too restrictive for my liking on top of that." Genevieve motioned her fingers, causing her doll to pick up their luggage. "Well, I must be off then, brother dearest."
Philippe watched the girl board the train, not being able to say anything. He knew that whatever he said wouldn't deter her. That stubbornness was something that the two of them shared, a trait from their father.
Philippe rode the escalator down from the station. Each time he got on, he was always amazed that the escalator was not suspended with Magicks like the station. As he reached the ground of the fifth level, he saw the hazelnut hair of his mother. It seems, Genevieve knew their mother more than he does.
"You're too late to say goodbye, mother." He walked towards her.
"I know…I wouldn't want that anyway." Her eyes trailing the train leaving their city. "If I did, I wouldn't have let her go."
"Is that a bad thing? Most mothers would think letting her go on a trip like this to be the foolish decision."
"That's true but… Would you trust your sister to live without contempt if we stopped her?" Philippe shook his head. "Exactly. Who knows what would happen then?"
Philippe shrugged and walked back home before realizing that his mother was standing still. "We might want to go home before father and Melody wakes up." His mother did not move. "All we could do is hope and pray, mother."
"I know, son. I just wish…we could do something more."
The sun started to rise beyond the horizon. The plains in Genevieve's view lit up to a luscious green from its dark blue. It was not a rare sight, but watching it from the seat of the train caused her heart to tremble just a bit.
"Well, it's a beautiful morning, isn't it dearest sister?" She smiled happily. "Ah, such grace and elegance." She continued to mumble while fixing her synthetic hair.
Whilst she was doing so, she saw a bright blue color move past their seats. At any other point, she wouldn't have worried or wonder who or what that was. However, the owner of such bright blue was a short girl that reminded her of her sister.
"Stay here." She told her doll. She then followed the silhouette of the blue-haired girl out to the car behind hers, where the propelling gear was located.
There weren't many people on the car, but judging from the size of it more people could've join the car. There, she saw the small girl that was slightly younger than her own sister. It was that same girl who was in Arland's shop.
A girl as young as that in a train all alone was giving her a bad feeling, so she walked up to her, "Hello there, Lizbeth dear." She lowered herself.
"Miss Genevieve!" She called out happily. "Why are you here?"
"Just call me Gen, dear."
"Okay, Miss Gen!"
"Well enough, I suppose. I am here because I need to go to Piagrado. I have business there." She smiled warmly and kindly. "Are you alone, dear?"
The girl recoiled but immediately shook her head energetically. "I-I have my mother…with me…" Sensing the fear in her voice, Genevieve's eyes narrowed.
"Is that so, dear? Well, I should introduce myself, be right back." Lizbeth grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
"N-no! She's…in the bathroom now…so you can't…." Her words lost their power as she stared into Genevieve's cold eyes. "Y-you…can't…." She started to sniffle.
Slowly, her eyes started to water as she looked down towards her feet, not being able to meet her eyes. Genevieve lowered herself and hugged the girl tightly. "I'm not angry at you, Lizbeth dearest. I'm worried. Your mother would be too if she found out."
Lizbeth buried her face into Genevieve's shoulder cape, muffling her crying and sniffling. "Please, don't- don't force me back." She whispered.
With a sigh, Genevieve patted her head slowly and caringly. "I won't, not if you have a good reason."
It took Lizbeth a while to calm herself after sitting down between Genevieve and the doll. Luckily, the train cars tend to be big enough for three rows of three seats. As an aside, most would put away their opus in the storage room below the passenger cars. Genevieve is the only Artisan who would buy a ticket for her doll.
"Have you calmed down?" She asked Lizbeth.
"Y-yes…" She said meekly.
Genevieve patted her head. "That's good, dear. Now, how did you pay for the ticket? Better yet, how did they allow you to pay for the ticket?" She asked calmly.
Lizbeth looked guilty but decided to answer truthfully, "W-well…I'm a registered Artisan now." With that, the pieces of the puzzle fit. Many registered Artisans are given privileges that they wouldn't have had previously. One such thing, being able to buy tickets for a train even if one was underage. However, there are age-restricted works out there that does not have the same luxury.
"I see… They didn't provide you with a Guardian? I believe the government would provide one in the case of travel or similar needs." Genevieve inquired warmly.
"Y-yes, she's in the other car. I asked her where the bathroom was and….snuck to see the giant gear." She fiddled with her thumbs.
Genevieve gave a relieved sigh. "Here I thought you ran away from home. Well, I suppose there are parents who would let their children…." Her words were interrupted when she noticed Lizbeth's shifting in unease. "…You did ran away from home and didn't tell your Guardian, did you dear? That's why you stopped me earlier?"
She shook her head suspiciously. "Oh my…." Genevieve covered her mouth with one hand. "…Well, this is an interesting predicament. Come, let us see your Guardian."
"Wait, Miss Ge-"
"Forgive me, Lizbeth dear. However, as a fellow Artisan, I cannot allow that you are keeping information from your Guardian. It is their duty to guard you from all possible harm, lying to them is simply deplorable." She looked into Lizbeth's eyes intensely. "Do you understand, dear?" Lizbeth nodded silently.
Moving to the next car, Genevieve saw and introduced herself to Lizbeth's Guardian – Julienne. After which, Genevieve explained to her about Lizbeth's predicament which surprised Julienne. "In my honest opinion, I think it might be better until we get off in Piagrado before discussing what to do with her." Genevieve suggested.
While she was extremely worried, she had to agree with the suggestion. "Yes…we need to check the schedule of the trains. Perhaps a hotel or inn to stay within too."
"No…" Lizbeth grumbled.
"What was that, Lizbeth dear?" Genevieve asked.
"I said, NO!" She glared at the two. "I-I know I did wrong, but, but, I'm an Artisan! I need to do something before going home!" Julienne stared at her like she was crazy and was about to scold her. "Just give me a day! Just today! I'll go home tomorrow, I swear! Just let me find what I'm looking for, Julienne!" She cut her off.
Seeing the girl, Genevieve can't help but smile. "Might as well. I can sympathize as a fellow Artisan. Your job is to guard her from harm, simply follow along with her adventures." She chuckled. "What is it you're looking for, Lizbeth dear?"
"Do not tell me how to do my duty!" Julianne bellowed. "However, I am also curious to what urged you to do something like this?" She added with a curious tone.
"Oh, uh, my- my mom said that she needed a metal called Mozium."
"Your mother…she's a Forger, is she not?" Julianne asked.
"Yes."
"Then, shouldn't she have procured said materials in a shop? Keepers would sell those back in Modrata."
"She's tried, but every shop in Modrata was waiting for a shipment of them from the Miners. Then, one shop owner said it'll be quicker to go to Piagrado to procure it, but mom said that it's better to wait for it which would take months."
"I'm guessing whatever she needed it for was urgent enough for you to go on a daring mission such as this?" Genevieve cut in.
"…Y-yeah...definitely..." Julianne pinched the bridge of her nose while Genevieve gave a wry chuckle. "Okay, maybe not. But, we are here now, we might as well buy it before we go home."
"She does make a fine counter offer. It's two birds with a singular stone." Genevieve defended.
While it was considered bending her duties a bit, Julienne can also understand that going home empty-handed would be worse. "Do not leave my sight for even a moment." She scolded the little girl who gave an energetic nod in return.
"Well, now that that's taken care of, I will leave you both to your devices." Genevieve curtsied.
"A moment, Miss Laurent!" Julienne called out, stopping Genevieve before she could leave the car.
"You know my family name?"
"Yes. The Laurents are a famous family, after all. Not to mention, the golden hair, the blue and white dress, and even your eccentrics – they fit your rumors so well, I had thought your closest friend was the one who spread them." She sighed.
"I'll take that as a compliment on my notoriety." Genevieve laughed. "So? What else can I help you with?"
"It is in my duties to take her back safely and to guard her from all harm." Genevieve hummed understandingly along with Julienne's words. "It is not my duty to help her search for the Mozium. If I were in my right mind, I'd take her home without the search but you've convinced me otherwise." She let the words hang in the air for Genevieve to understand its hidden meaning.
"Ah, I understand. I was the one who casted the die, it's only fair that I see where it lands, correct?"
"It's nice to know you're not as foolish as the rumors made you out to be. Yes, that is what I meant."
"Foolish?" Genevieve was appalled at her words. "I? A prodigy of my pedigree? Being called foolish? Oh, that won't do. That won't do at all, Julienne dear. Yes" – she took a seat next to Julienne – "Yes, I will help you and Lizbeth dear, but you must promise me to debunk any rumors that dared to call me foolish, deal?"
Julienne had a wave of relief washed over her when she saw Genevieve's change of expression. She wasn't the odd monster that she's heard after all – simply a weird human. "Yes, deal, Miss Laurent."
"Gen is fine, Julienne dear."
"Thank you, Gen."
2
The Mozium was not an extremely special metal in comparison to its brothers and sisters. It was more accurate to say they're about as common as iron or steel for Forgers and Artisans alike. However, Mozium was also much more pliable, making them the best metal to use for quick trials and errors. Many Forgers would have Mozium in their inventory in the case that any Artisan would require them to research and develop their opus.
The one question that was in Genevieve's head was the fact that it wasn't, 'many shops didn't have it' but instead, 'all the shops didn't have it'. Such a thing was unheard of. Yes, some shops wouldn't have them and some Artisans or Forgers would not have them in their storage either – but not at this large of a scale.
Piagrado is known as the Forged city, seeing that many Forgers would love to spend their time here. Despite the name, the city itself is not one of steel and fire. It was a city filled with many Miners that would harvest the veins underneath the city. Even the city itself was not as intricate as Modrata was, sticking to a more open planning where the greens of plants and gravel roads remained untouched.
Genevieve was back in her own seat, looking outside of the window towards the city. Where Modrata was an amalgamation of centuries of Artisans' works turned into a city, Piagrado was the opposite.
It had modest looking houses, made of stone and wood. The roads were made of gravel that seemed to be maintained for ease of traversing. There were farms outside of the city walls, something that you would not see in Modrata – then again, Modrata had to import such produce.
Speaking of walls, it was one of the few things that Genevieve felt familiar in the city. It was made of steel with the gates being operated with gears and cogs. Within the city itself, was light fixtures that ran along the streets, reminiscent of the ones in Modrata. She was sure she might see more familiar things were she to look closer.
The train stopped and she left with her doll and luggage beside her. Once more, the station was suspended in the air with the help of Magick. However, while Modrata had escalators, all that greeted her was a humble staircase.
She spotted Lizbeth, thanks to her blue hair, and approached the two with haste. "I see…this is the rumored…" Julianne didn't finish her words, knowing the stories of her ire when the doll was involved.
"Well, shall we go into town then? Search for a hotel or an inn?" Genevieve asked while clapping her hands hopefully.
"Yes, I'll check the schedule for the trains later tonight. With hope, we can go back to Modrata before six in the morning." Hearing the time stated by Julianne, Lizbeth's face soured. "Don't be like that! The longer you are here, the more worried your mother will be." Those words caused Lizbeth to become quiet.
The four walked down the staircase with Lizbeth and Genevieve looking around the town excitedly. Admittedly, seeing the town from afar made Genevieve unenthusiastic about her search here. Now that she was seeing it up close, she can actually enjoy and appreciate the town a lot more.
It was much different than the stone roads of Modrata. The big buildings that would envelope the city, the levels that covered the skies, and the nonstop ticking were all missing in this town. In its place, the gravel roads, the warm sunlight, the myriad of velocipedes, and the modestly built houses.
The atmosphere was such a departure from Modrata, she felt exhilarated. "The nearest inn from here is one that's called, The Sleeping Dragon. We'll rent a room for tonight first." Julienne brought her back from her daydreaming.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, lodging! Right, is that the long building on that hill over there?" Genevieve asked.
"Yes, their target patrons are Virtuosos and Artisans, hence the atmosphere and size."
"You sure do know a lot, do you come here often, Julienne dear?"
"Not as often as other cities. It is the mark of a good escort when you can help your client with whatever they needed. A Forger would not necessarily want the same thing as an Artisan after all."
As they made their way to the inn, Genevieve noted something. "Does it get annoying? Traversing, I mean. The houses and even the buildings are all built on different elevation after all."
"Not necessarily. You get used to it as you would with the escalators of Modrata." Julienne answered. "On top of that, the ones who live here would have their own personal velocipede. Speaking of, stick to the sidewalks."
Genevieve followed Julienne's advice, seeing the reason for it. In the middle of the street, between the walking citizens, a man was using a velocipede that had bags attached to them and a cart being pulled by it. From a glance, it was obvious that he was a Miner with his equipment, and that his velocipede was different than what she was used to.
The velocipedes in Modrata were taller and had lighter frame. It was simply the Magnum Opus for traversing, while the ones here had bigger frame and thicker wheels. It was meant for traversing and transporting items, some even had carts being dragged along.
Genevieve hummed happily seeing the unfamiliar sight. "I see… Piagrado, the Forged city. A city where mining and miners reign supreme. To carry their harvest, they would need carts. To harvest in of itself, they need equipment. Should I assume the mines are beyond the walls? Past the farms? Which would mean…Ah, that man is selling his ores by the sidewalk. No buildings for it?"
Hearing her voice, Julianne can't help but narrow her eyes. "A prodigy...huh?" Hearing the word, Genevieve gave a smile and curtsy. With a sigh, Julianne continued, "A keeper would have a shop, yes, but they're mostly used for exportation. A Forger might want one from a Miner directly."
"Cut out the middleman, gain trust, and build reputation. I suppose I should assume it's the same no matter the city." Genevieve commented. "No factories? No, the equipment are all custom-made. Yet, the Velocipedes aren't. A marketplace then? A melting pot of Forgers, Artisans and Miners?"
The more she spoke, the more uncomfortable Julianne felt. "Yes, we're in the south of the city, near the exit and where tourists would come in. The north is where the marketplace is, where the equipment is produced. In some cases, entertainment."
"Virtuosos too?" Genevieve hummed.
'If I were to be the Nachash, where would I be? The marketplace? Close, but not quite there. There's something that I'm missing, some kind of first level of this town. Direct selling, marketplace, are there other outsourcing mediums? Counterfeiters? I wonder…' She thought to herself.
"What's wrong, Miss Gen?" Lizbeth asked.
"Oh nothing, Lizbeth dear. I was just thinking, a town like this where it's so open…and a marketplace where entertainment exists. Why, it must get rowdy at night, much more than Modrata, if anything." She shrugged. "Is that accurate, Julianne dear?"
Once more, she narrowed her eyes. "You're not wrong, but not accurate either. From testimonies of Artisans who I've escorted, the marketplace is much louder in the morning. When the new shipment of ores, equipment, and other such things have just came in. The night is when they're looking to unwind."
"Oh, really? Why that is absolutely horrid. I can't wake up early, after all." While it was not a lie, she'd be outside of her home before the sun would even come up. "So, if we were to find your Mozium, Lizbeth dear, it'd be early in the morning…" She put one hand on her cheek, showing her perplexed expression.
Lizbeth felt bad after seeing her expression. "N- it's fine, Miss Gen! I can wake up early and find it, then you can join us later." She said with a smile.
"Thank you, Lizbeth dear. You really are a sweet little girl." Genevieve smiled while patted her head.
"Thanks, Miss Gen." She smiled happily in return, oblivious to the fact that Genevieve made her say those words.
3
When the three came to the inn, Julianne recommended for a single room for the three. To this, Genevieve made a passing comment about how much of a light sleeper she was. Lizbeth, being the good girl she is, didn't want to wake her up early tomorrow after saying she could join them later. So, they were in separate rooms.
After setting up her watch and leaving her doll on the bed, Genevieve went to sleep before the sun had set. Her watch made a loud clicking noise as an alarm that she had set up earlier. She looked at the needle within her watch indicating it was two in the morning.
She got up, got dressed, and also prepared her doll to leave her room. Once more, while she may not be an early riser, she would leave in the dead of the night to arrive somewhere early. "Right then, the north, is it?" She whispered to herself. "Come, dearest sister. We need to see what makes this town ticks."
She left the inn and the first thing she noticed was the lights in the north. It wasn't the streetlights, they were brighter – much more than what was needed to light the streets. She didn't have a velocipede of her own which caused her to regret wearing heels.
"If this was supposed to be easy, I would've finished your creation years ago. Right, dearest sister?" No answer came to her. "A shame though, I'm not in the mood for walking right now." With a motion of her fingers, her doll lowered itself and had her arms outstretched. "Thank you, dearest sister."
As if it wasn't something she had orchestrated, Genevieve lowered herself gracefully onto her arms. With the motion of her fingers, the doll stood tall and started moving.
In the attempt to make her 'dearest sister' to be the most perfect Magnum Opus it could be, Genevieve has made her with many specifications in mind. One such specification is the fact that she would be able to move her as quickly as possible and as strongly as possible. There are, of course, limitations to what she could do.
Were the doll to move as quickly as it could suddenly, her joints would not be able to keep up. Something that she knew full well when she made her play the piano as quickly and slowly as possible. A feat that was possible only to a master Virtuoso.
The doll's weight was surprisingly light for all the things it was capable of. It would jump the height of a building and used shock absorbers to land atop buildings without crashing into them. Something that was, in of itself, could be considered a Magnum Opus.
However, it was not enough. The abilities and utilities of her doll, something that was only a dream made up of ambitious Artisans, were not enough. What Genevieve wanted, was the perfect Magnum Opus. She wanted to create a living doll that could do anything and everything.
She saw the lights of the marketplace illuminating the night as if it was a color of paint. There was not as many people here than there were on the side of the road earlier. However, the ones that are here, moved with reason – with purpose.
Genevieve walked around the night market, looking through what parts they had on display this early. She listened to the murmurs and the whispers of the ones who haunted this place. What word they used, how they said it, and who they said it to.
She walked towards a seat, taking one with her doll sitting next to her. "If I were to sell my wares, I'd do so in a way where people would know my name. Of course, that is unless I don't want them to find out." She turned to her doll, thinking about what to do.
"I do not want any of their…filth to infect you, dearest sister. You know that, right?" She was given no answer. "Of course not, but if they hold a key to what we're looking for... If only a legendary Magnum Opus that was thought to be a fairy tale was easy to get a hold off."
Using her observational skills, Genevieve's eyes latched upon three different stores. They are the only ones that seemed to have questionable parts attached to them. "All right then, dearest sister. Please choose!" With the same expression, with the same mechanical movement that was dictated by Genevieve – The doll's arm raised towards one of the stalls.
Genevieve made her way to the stall with the doll following her closely. This one shop was the only one with a Keeper that didn't seem to care about selling their wares. However, they weren't opening up shop as if it was the motions, there was something else. Something that wasn't visible at all.
Seeing the girl approaching the Keeper greeted, "Welcome, there's my wares. Tell me which one you're interested in." She was unenthusiastic, yet, it was almost like she was waiting for something.
Genevieve leaned over her wares with her hand raised to her chin. "Yes, yes…let's see…" Genevieve had always been an observant person, but when it comes down to it, she had nothing else but her intuition. "Do you have a Nachash?"
The Keeper's eyes darted to her but she did not make a move. It was clear to Genevieve that she was holding herself back so she would not be read by her. "…Sorry, don't know what that is."
"Oh really? You've never been to Modrata then. Which one of these stalls have dealt with Modratans, if you don't mind my asking?" Genevieve provoked.
"We've all dealt with Modratans."
"Really? Why, that can't be true." She shrugged. "What kind of Keeper would not know of a Nachash if they've dealt with Modratans?"
"What kind of Keeper has one?"
"That's not what I'm saying, though." Hearing her statement, the Keeper raised her brow. "I'm saying, a Keeper that would not have it or even ridicule me is a dime a dozen. One who had never heard of it? Now, that's rare." She smiled.
The Keeper knew she was trapped with her words but she waved it off regardless. "Don't have, never heard of, same thing. You want something, pick it from my wares!"
"I guess you're right. No point in asking for something that isn't there." Genevieve then let out a smile. "What about some kind of clue of where it is, then?" She whispered.
The Keeper wanted to dismiss her once more, but she couldn't. Her eyes, her smile, and the creepy doll that was behind her. All of these things kept her mouth shut. "How much do you want for it?" Her voice was like the devils; sweet, smooth, and all too chilling.
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