Benedict watched Ordra with bated breath, focused so hard that the noise from the crowd barely bothered him. Kirion was beside him, also tense. Both of them had hefty sums riding on the arm wrestling competition, all placed on Ordra.

  The table underneath the two men’s arms shuddered. Ordra’s face held a consistent, confident smile despite the flexing of his muscles. His opponent strained harder against him, almost lifting out of his seat. It wasn’t enough, as Ordra pinned his opponent’s arm against the table with a mighty roar. A chorus of boos with a smattering of cheers marked the win more than the whistle from the referee.

  “Against a newcoming adventurer, our champion has faltered!” the referee shouted, barely heard over the roars in the packed tavern.

  As Ordra and his opponent congratulated each other, men exchanged their winnings. Given the line to Kirion, he had run through the entire tavern betting on Ordra. Fortunately, the honor system worked well enough in Lorvath that the collection ended peacefully.

  When they sat at their table, Benedict’s wallet was full, and Kirion had two almost overflowing with coin. Everyone else in the tavern did the same, with the winners buying consolation drinks for the losers. Benedict simply ordered a mead for himself and waited for Ordra. Kirion didn’t order anything at first, instead busying himself by counting his copious winnings.

  Ordra sat in the remaining chair so hard it seemed to buckle under him. “That was quite the experience, boys!”

  “For us, too, big guy,” Kirion said without looking up from his winnings.

  “You made out well, I assume.”

  Kirion closed his wallets and put them back into his coffer. “One thousand! Ha!”

  “Two hundred,” Benedict said.

  “Truly, no one is as much of a gambler as Kirion,” Ordra said through a laugh.

  “Why isn’t Amalyn here?” Kirion asked. “She could have made out like a bandit.”

  “She and Shiyo are taking Celica somewhere to get her mind off the kidnapping,” Benedict replied.

  Amalyn insisted the trip was women-only, so maybe they were going to a Phyneli spa or somewhere similar where they’d be significantly unclothed. Benedict shook the perverted thoughts away before they became all-encompassing.

  “She should rest easy,” Ordra said. “I received a letter from Rahma this morning. It seems the magistrate confessed to helping cover up the entire situation in exchange for money and a personal girl from the Ashen Choir. The guards found him dead in his bedroom with the confession.”

  Kirion whistled. “Suicide? Murder?”

  “The guards are considering it a suicide born of guilt.”

  Benedict took a drink of his mead. What are the chances anyone actually thought it was suicide? They didn’t have a weapon, and the cause of death would be obvious. More likely than not, the guards wanted to keep things quiet instead of causing a huge scandal.

  “Putting aside such matters, how does it feel to beat a champion?” Benedict asked.

  Ordra shrugged and laughed. “This is far from the first time I’ve done so.”

  “Ordra has a five-to-two winning record against local arm-wrestling champions,” Kirion explained.

  Benedict glanced between them. “So this is a standard hustle for you two?”

  “The bots are normally good on their own. The wagers just give us more. It’s a good living and mostly honest. I’ve only had to get Ordra to help pay bets a couple times.”

  “Mostly honest? Ordra’s help?”

  “There are times we have to do a little extra to prove a point,” Ordra said. “You didn’t make out too badly yourself, right?”

  “I made my wagers out of confidence in your skills. Did your skills win this one?”

  “Oh, certainly. This man was genuine.” Ordra took a long drink. “Speaking of confidence, I have a proposal for you. We would like you and Shiyo to join our party permanently.”

  The entire reason Shiyo was taking Benedict to Noctim was to find him a good party, and here he was being invited into one. Maybe he didn’t even need to worry about Noctim, after all. What would Shiyo do, though? She had planned all along to leave on her own adventure after that.

  “You’ll have to discuss it with her, obviously. We won’t rush your decision.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Whatever we decide, we appreciate the offer,” Benedict said.

  Ordra lifted his mug for a toast. Benedict followed his lead, and they clacked their mugs together. No sooner had they set their drinks back on the table than the tavern doors flew open. Godwik stumbled inside, followed by another man, younger but similar looking. He was also quite familiar, though Benedict couldn’t place him immediately. Godwik spotted them immediately and ran to the table, fully out of breath.

  “You two look desperate,” Kirion said.

  “We are,” Godwik replied. “My little brother has made a mess of things, and we need help fixing it before the boss finds out! Rodwin, tell him!”

  “Oh, you were the one who watched the shop while we took Celica to that godforsaken swamp,” Benedict said.

  “What do you two need?” Ordra asked.

  Rodwin ignored Benedict. “My invention has run wild! Just follow us, please!”

  Hurry they did, right into Lorvath’s upscale noble quarter, past the nicest homes in the city, finally reaching a massive construction project. There were no workers on-site. Instead, a single thing did the heavy work. It walked on two elephantine legs, with a pair of long multi-segmented arms extending from its thick torso. Glowing thaumaturgical links connected the segments to each other. Its hands were segmented, as well, and it had another pair of stiff limbs stretched out from its waist, a conjured box spanning between them and holding a load of building materials. All in all, it was over ten feet tall.

  The structure it busied itself with stood at least five stories tall and still going, exceeding every building around, and the giant still had no problems. Wind whirled around it, and it floated to the top of the structure to place its building materials, then it floated back down on the same wind.

  “Impressive,” Benedict said.

  “You said you had a problem,” Ordra said.

  Rodwin stared at his feet. “Well, you see, the problem is that it won’t stop building.”

  “That’s an understatement!” A nobleman walked up to them, dressed in all his finery and with a particularly angry face to match. “This is my bathhouse. Thanks to the antics of the Artificers’ Guild, it has grown to over twice what I called for. I spent a fortune to get this architect, and this is what happens.”

  “Seems a good time to plan for a few expansions,” Benedict said.

  “I need this done properly, and this giant is making everything worse!”

  Godwik explained. “There are no more building materials left, so it’s now starting to steal from nearby homes.”

  Ordra drew his shields. “We know what to do, then. Stand back, gentlemen.”

  “Any weak spots we should aim for?” Benedict asked as he readied his rifle.

  Rodwin screamed and ran in front of them. “I spent nearly a year to make him! Please don’t destroy him!”

  “What would you have us do, then?” Kirion asked.

  “I can fix him. I just need to remove the animus core on his back. Once I can do that, he’ll stop moving entirely.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Ordra asked.

  “Yes!”

  Crashing and breaking noises came from the neighborhood beyond the construction area. Benedict winced. It was the sound of very expensive chaos. At a full sprint and followed by Kirion and Ordra, he charged down the street to see the giant smashing into houses as it walked down the street, and none of the carnage was intentional.

  Intentionally or not, people screamed at and cursed the giant while they ran away. All the time, it absentmindedly swung its arms into multiple buildings while trying to avoid things on the ground.

  “We might need to break it…” Benedict murmured.

  “Don’t!” Rodwin shouted.

  Ordra ran ahead. “We can’t let it hurt these people, Rodwin. We’ll do our best not to destroy it.”

  The giant’s lazy stride let the three close in quickly enough. A small handle stuck out of its back just below the neck. Benedict assumed that was Rodwin’s animus core. It shouldn’t be hard to nab it, he thought.

  His grapple latched onto the back next to the handle, and he landed with his feet planted against a hard wooden shell. Just as his fingers brushed against the handle, the giant bucked. The grapple held, and Benedict settled back into place to try again. That lasted for a moment until the giant threw him again. This time, Benedict accidentally touched the grapple’s release button, and momentum threw him off.

  Kirion stood above him when the world came back. Specifically, Kirion’s hand was there, smacking Benedict across his cheeks. He blocked the last slap and sat himself up. Someone started cursing not far away. It took a few moments for Benedict to realize the cursing was directed at him.

  “What happened?” Benedict asked.

  “You flew through this gentleman’s door,” Kirion said, pointing to another angry nobleman.

  “Are you two related to this monstrosity?” the noble screamed. “I’ll have your heads if you are!”

  Benedict stood and dusted himself off. “Sir, we have been recruited to assist in stopping that giant from wreaking havoc on your neighborhood. Unless you want to let it do its thing, I suggest you leave us to our job.” He looked at the hole where the man’s front door once stood. “Sorry about the door.”

  The giant walked past, headed back to the construction site with a load of bricks in its “hands”. Ordra kept in front, trying to halt it by blocking its steps. All the giant did was extend a conjured slimelike appendage, pick Ordra up, and then place him to the side without breaking its stride.

  Benedict walked up to Rodwin, still feeling the aches from his fall. “Would you mind telling me how that thing actually works?”

  Rodwin's face lit up when he started his explanation. “It’s actually very easy. Multiple simple formulas enable its body to move as it does, providing incredible versatility. A conjured beast in the head designed to follow orders from any task controls all of it and gives the user power to command it.”

  “And why won’t it stop building?”

  “Well, it seems the beast isn’t listening to any commands at the moment. The thaumaturgy within is incredibly complex, so it’s probably inevitable there would be problems, but not like this.”

  “Is there not a word or phrase you can use to shut it all down? A complex system should have something like that.”

  “I never thought I would need such a thing, and neither did any thaumaturge I talked to. Their formulas already work.”

  Benedict buried his head in a hand. The Artificers' Guild could make all manner of tools, including making a rifle from a few scratches on parchment; how could debugging be a foreign concept to them.

  “Apparently they don’t work with all the others you’ve put in, including the conjured beast,” Benedict groaned.

  The automaton flew up and placed the bricks it carried, then settled onto the ground and began walking down a different street. Benedict hung his head. They were in for a long day.