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Chapter Text

The eternal ticking and turning of the Clockwork Nirvana resounded throughout the halls of Maxim’s sanctum. The magic infused walls hummed with its mechanical whirrings and the constant tick was audible no matter how deep within he hid. Usually, the ever present sound was of comfort, a sign all was well. His very being was tied to the power of this plane after all. Yet lately he had felt his own gears begin to tick out of turn, disrupting the perfect cadence and causing no small amount of discomfort.

It was rather unusual for his own workings to fall out of line. In the past, such events had been caused by times of great stress, rare moments where he let his emotions get the better of him. When he let his heart, not his head, guide his hand. But emotionally speaking, all seemed to be well. Nothing had yet occurred to so strongly affect him. In fact, the only inconvenience he faced was that VR-LA had not appeared for their agreed-upon meeting some two weeks ago. Maxim had yet to hear word from him either, which while strange for someone as organised as VR-LA, was not too concerning when considering his line of work. There were all manner of things in the Planescape that could delay his visit.

More than anything it left Maxim confused as to why, at such a seemingly innocuous event, his systems had entirely fallen out of rhythm. But there was nothing to be done about it other than continuing in his work until whatever nagging worry was forgotten or overcome. So he turned back to carefully deconstructing the Docent, trying to find the cause of its corrupted data.

☆☆☆

After a year of discordant ticking, Maxim had mostly grown used to this new normal. The discomfort of feeling so out of line with his own world had faded and turned into a resigned acceptance. Trying to repair the issue physically seemed ineffective as did trying to find and root out its exact emotional cause. But it wasn't as though it was a constant problem. He could go some hours, or even days, with everything working in perfect time, but then a gear in his chest would stutter and everything fell back out of place. It went away with time, and then returned again. The unpredictability of the cycle was more bothersome than the actual issue itself if he were being honest. It disrupted his carefully organised routine with its sudden flare-ups.

He had tried to continue work on Docent himself, yet had found his skill in arcanotech too surface level for such a complex device. He’d sent it to a colleague at the Transcendent Academy in hopes they may fare better than him. So far it had yielded interesting results, from translating capabilities to no small amount of storage space. If VR-LA was to return he’d surely find it interesting.

Maxim considered the notes spread out on the desk before him, they were the designs of his now missing staff and various diagrams of insects. He’d been trying to work up the resolve to restart the project, seeing as at this point it was clear that VR-LA’s reappearance would be unlikely. At best the wizard had simply lost any interest in pursuing their professional relationship, at worst he had succumbed to the dangers of the Planescape.

There was a moment of sharp pain and scrapping metal followed by a knotted feeling in his chest as his gears once again fell out of order. The awkward timing of Mechanus’s tick and his own beating powercore grated at his already worn thin nerve. Sweeping aside the blueprints and anatomical artworks he resigned himself to leaving the project unfinished for now. As he reached across his desk for a treatise on the nature of cross-planar celestial navigation to pass the time, Maxim noticed an odd page amongst his hastily put away notes. Carefully torn from a spellbook if the faint indentation of arcane glyphs were anything to go by. Gently removing it from the stack he traced a finger over the precise lines of a neatly labelled clockwork wasp. It was little more than a sketch yet the skill it was drawn with easily outshone Maxim’s own work. Without giving himself a moment to consider the action he slipped the page into one of his personal journals.

☆☆☆

It was no secret to anyone who had ever met Maxim that he didn’t really do friends. He had colleagues, associates and informants aplenty, yet not once did he call any of them friends. The phantom pains of grief still fresh all this time later caused his gears to catch at the thought of opening himself to the hurt that came with care. Not once had Maxim found himself regretting the choice to conduct his relationships in such a way. Yet after two years of broken gears and empty conversations, he was beginning to catch on to the fact that he was, simply put, lonely. 

However, he could find no solution to the issue. The people he most closely spoke to were already too entrenched in cold professionalism for that to change, and newcomers into his circle were too unnerved by his presence to have any meaningful conversation. Even if he could fix the issue, he'd operated like this for so long that he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to get over the wrenching and stuttering of his cogs at the thought of leaving himself vulnerable to others. The last person he met who cared not for Maxim’s stern demeanour or his academic eccentricities was VR-LA, but it was clear by now that some way or another, he was gone.

He would be lying if he said this fact did not bring him some sadness. Maxim had been recording his thoughts in his journals when the old wasp drawing slipped from its place, tucked between the cover and contents page. It was somewhat faded, having already been a year or two old when he found it. Looking over the ruler straight lines and crosshatch shading, Maxim let himself come to the quiet acceptance that perhaps there may have been someone he would have liked to call a friend. Had he more time and courage. He spent the next few hours carefully cutting sheets of metal, inscribing them with runic formulas and tinkering away in his workshop. The next day a palm sized mechanical wasp, modelled after a once aimless sketch, flittered over his books.

☆☆☆

Maxim stared at the gold and glass sphere resting on his desk, he'd received it back from his colleague the previous day yet had not looked over it. A small label was found on its interior, referencing an unknown House. VR-LA would have found the mystery fascinating, likely creating a brand new conspiracy board dedicated to unravelling it. He had always enjoyed a good mystery. If Maxim wanted to properly go over the new findings he’d have to reread VR-LA’s old notes on the matter, something he’d thus far managed to avoid.

With a carefulness somewhere between trepidation and reverence he removed the notes the wizard provided to him from their place by his desk. Each book was bound in rustic brown leather and neatly labelled with their content matter. Over the next few hours, Maxim cross-referenced the writings from his two associates while adding to his own research into the matter. VR-LA’s were nothing if not precise and professional, though at times he stumbled upon a gap or unfinished section and was left to try and extrapolate his thoughts. Over two and a half years of not seeing the mechanite should have led to Maxim’s memory of him being pushed out of mind due to its redundancy, yet he found himself recalling him in easy clarity. He could see where VR-LA must have paused to consider a sentence by the dots tapped at the corner of the page and where some aspect must have bored him due to the sketches of stars in the margins. It was nearly too easy to recall the moments of the wizard sitting back in a chair, reading over his notes before he passed them onto Maxim.

Once again he resigned himself to some discomfort as his gears fell out of sync. It had simply become part of his life, just as the quiet wondering and worrying about what happened to his former research partner had. Even all this time later he still could not quite bring himself to restart the Staff of the Clockwork Swarm, all he had done thus far was build a few more wasps, which now flit around his workspace. He told himself it was due to the somewhat daunting workload and repetitiveness of the project, but even he couldn’t ignore the more emotional connection he’d developed to it. That same feeling was what led him to put Docent back on its stand and VR-LA’s notes back on the shelf, perhaps with a little more time Maxim would be able to pick it back up again. Perhaps when his mechanics stopped stuttering at each reminder of lost chances.

Chapter Text

For the past few days Maxim’s internal clockwork had been spiralling further and further out of sync. He'd been trying to push through the last collection of VR-LA’s notes on Docent so he could finally put them behind him. But to his annoyance he found himself needing frequent breaks lest the stuttering in his chest cause any lasting physical damage. Retreating to his demiplane had helped as the tick of Mechanus was not quite as audible, so he could somewhat ignore his internal discordance. Yet he still found himself both unable and unwilling to finish the last few pages. 

Completing them gave the whole situation a sense of finality that left him feeling bereft. Though Maxim did not get close to people as a rule, VR-LA had been a trusted and engaging presence. He could at least admit to himself that he liked him more than most of his colleagues, and he could admit that he really did mourn his loss. But he had a job to do, and that meant finishing these notes, restarting the staff and continuing his work on Docent. The thought was met with little conviction, rather an empty sounding hum as his clockwork moved a little slower.

It was during this tense and fragile state of mind that the alarm on the front door began to ring, and Maxim felt his powercore jolt with a sudden increase in electricity. Continuous high pitched chimes echoed through the halls, reverberating off cold stone and polished brass. The force of which he stood knocked his chair to the floor, a few papers fluttering to the ground with it. An all too familiar fear, masked with indifferent anger lent weight and haste to his steps. He didn't pause as he walked from his demiplane into open air. Arcane energy caught him, letting him drift to the foyer. Mustering the innate power gifted to him through Mechanus he steeled himself, willing his anxiously spinning gears to still. 

“Interlopers, you would find a dower enemy in Maxim. Who dares assault my sanctu—”, his vocal unit stalled out, as did about half of his other non vital systems, when he caught sight of a silver mechanite garbed in blue, “—VR-LA?”

Upon alighting on the floor, Maxim walked forward a few steps to stand before him. He looked more battered than usual, once polished chrome plating was now fractured and scuffed. Yet his spellbook still hung from the leather belts around his waist and his golden eyes were wide with curiosity as they always had been. Maxim noted with some level of bemusement that he now wore a sky blue scarf of what could be described as excessive, perhaps even comical, length. He paused momentarily in an attempt to gather his thoughts and restart the several systems that had crashed.

“This is surprising. Did the password I provided you with not, disarm the ward as I had intended?” Confusion was evident in his voice, yet thankfully it stayed steady despite the unfamiliar heaviness in his vocal unit. Once over his shock he turned his attention to the strangers behind the silver mechanite, “And who are these you bring with you? Where is your crew?”

VR-LA stilled for a moment, watching him with something like surprise or trepidation. He took a moment to glance back at the motley newcomers before stepping forward to meet him.

“My apologies Maxim, in truth I will be up front with you, my crew has disappeared. This was some time ago that I know not. I have been severely damaged. Many of my data spheres have been lost, and so as such much of my memory of this place has been lost as well. I do not know you, but it seems as though I once did! And I am sorry that I cannot extend the same greeting to you. 

“I came here searching for answers about my crew. These people have been travelling with me, and have been helping me in the interim, and have agreed to help me with this. I owe them for that. They are not enemies, but if you wish to judge us, and me, on our current merit, so be it.”

By the time VR-LA had finished his speech, any ground Maxim had gained on resetting his systems was once again lost. While he most certainly wasn’t cold hearted, he was also not known to be particularly empathic, yet he couldn’t help feeling a little heartbroken on the wizard’s behalf. Such a brilliant mind and unique life, lost. And perhaps a little selfishly, Maxim thought of every one of their meetings, the late night tangents and moments of companionable silence. 

All of it, gone.

He did his best to keep any distress out of his mannerisms, unsure of how to act, how to give comfort in a situation like this. He had to say something though, already he noticed VR-LA tense and shift as the silence stretched.

“These are harsh tribulations you speak of. In truth I knew little of your crew, but you spoke highly of them. I’m—” he paused, trying to find a way to offer something beyond empty sounding words, “My condolences for your loss, and for your current situation. It seems that the hands of fate have brought you back. Perhaps I might be of assistance putting things how they should be. How may I be of service to you?”

Maxim knew he could offer little in way of emotional support, so instead he turned to his strengths. He dealt in knowledge and magic, maybe there he could find a way to assist his… his associate.

☆☆☆

He did not fluster at the revelation that somehow, someway, this study had become VR-LA’s safe space. It was a close thing, however. The thought that their quiet companionship, here in Maxim’s little corner of the planescape, had been meaningful enough to someone as well travelled as VR-LA that it could be used against him was… not frightening exactly. But worrying perhaps? It certainly sent a static shock through his systems and made his powercore hum with increased energy. Yet, despite the fact that this clearly violated the whole point of having distant professional relationships, he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased. He supposed it was nice to know that even inadvertently, he had provided his associate with some level of comfort.

The next few hours of conversation both calmed and concerned Maxim in equal measure. While it seemed VR-LA had, despite all odds, managed to get back on his feet, what he told him of his recent doings and the extent of his memory loss reinstalled the worry he’d had since his disappearance. He truly remembered nothing. Not the names of those he onced called family, not even how long he’d been adrift. Maxim could do little about the awkward guilt he felt over not thinking to explain the timeframe of events sooner. When he had stated it had only been some two years and seven months the built up pressure in the mechanite’s systems seemed to release all at once with a hiss of steam. He found himself regretting not asking more of VR-LA’s life in their previous meetings, he’d been all too willing to keep the subject matter professional. If only he hadn’t then perhaps he could be of more use.

Gradually, VR-LA seemed to grow more at ease with the situation, beginning to act more like the arcanist Maxim once knew. The offbeat ticking of his gears began to calm somewhat at the thought that there was still something of the wizard left. He may have lost his memory but this was undeniably VR-LA. From the fierce protectiveness toward his crew to his endless questions. It seemed to Maxim that he hadn’t changed all that much. Perhaps a little less uptight, but that may simply be the effect of having his crew with him. The conversation almost gave him a sense of nostalgia, casting his mind back to those hours where they would speak of anything and everything, or simply sit in a soft silence while pursuing their own work.

Then his companions mentioned the Illithid, and he was sure the scrapping from the speed his mechanics were running at had to be audible. While he held no personal fear of such creatures, to those without such robust defences an encounter would be deadly. He knew the trade he made for the ring was somewhat subpar, but the knowledge that it may help keep his associate safe was enough to make up for loaning out the ring. If he were religious, he may have sent a silent prayer to the gods to keep VR-LA safe, but instead Maxim settled on the knowledge that for VR-LA to still be here after all he went through then fate must have grander plans for him than mindflayers. 

He found little solace in the sentiment.

☆☆☆

The sky blue wool of VR-LA’s scarf replaced the tuning fork he’d offered up moments before. Upon seeing the steely resolve the crew had toward retrieving their missing member, he had wanted to help VR-LA in what small way he could. The neatly folded scarf and return of the staff caught him off guard.

VR-LA held his gaze as he placed the items in his arms, “A fair exchange.”

“To impart gifts is not necessary,” Maxim replied, confusion creeping into his tone.

“It is merely an exchange. We are professionals after all.”

Maxim found no explanation for the sting of errant electricity in his chest, “That we are. My assumption is that you intend to rescue your crewmate?”

“I said that I did not have any intention of losing my crew a second time,” there was a soft yet utterly cold edge to VR-LA’s voice, previously unheard by Maxim, “I aim to make good on that.”

“I wish you luck, and if I may, a word of advice.” VR-LA nodded his assent. “There are some things in this universe that are inevitable. The more you study the history of the Planescape the more you come to learn that law, chaos, good and evil, none has ever truly triumphed. Defeats and victories, ultimately fruitless. Our lives are much the same in that respect. We fight entropy yet try as we might, loss will always find each of us in time. I offer you this wisdom, care about those you choose to care about, but always be prepared, the time comes for each of us.”

The wizard regarded him for a moment, posture and face inscrutable with the same coldness his voice had previously carried. When he spoke it was with the conviction of someone who knew that exact pain all too well, “I offer you this wisdom in turn, it is the fight against entropy that makes life worth living.”

“Maybe,” Maxim felt his vocal unit catch as he tried and failed to form a response. He couldn’t help but acknowledge that perhaps he was wrong in believing VR-LA wasn’t unchanged. He had always been strong in his opinions, but his unwavering tone showed mettle that had not been there before. Pushing aside his brief stalling Maxim gestured to the tuning fork, “When you shift to the Prime, hold strongly in your mind the location you wish to travel to. The Prime is not like most other places, it is expansive. Hold fast in your mind and you may find your way true.”

Maxim stepped back to let the group plan their next moves, taking a moment to consider each of them as he did. The snarky fire genasi was clearly stressed despite her best efforts to hide it. Her gaze continually glanced back to the dead body of what he could only assume was someone she once knew. Finbar, who had previously been a bit too casual for Maxim’s liking, stood still with a quiet resolve and impressive calm. He clearly acted as an anchor and protector for the rest of the crew. VR-LA was discussing possible courses of action, maintaining his uncharacteristically icy tone. At that moment the wizard turned to catch his eye.

“I would be more comfortable if there was any way we could have some more help?”

The drawn out nature of the final syllable made it quite clear what VR-LA was implying. Usually, Maxim would keep himself removed from such personal matters, but the wizard's earlier words and steely resolve caused the gears in his chest to twist and click with a sense of déjà vu. So with a soft hum, he gathered the abjurative power of Mechanus around him, “I have enough arcane energy to spare. Come, I will bestow a blessing upon you.”

The air buzzed around the group, glimmering with golden gear like motes as he focused his power on strengthening their constitution. With a final tick, the casting ended, and Maxim felt the magic settle around their beings. Hopefully it lent strength enough to face their foe.

☆☆☆

Once again, Maxim found himself with no company other than his wasps and the ticking and turning of cogs. Sitting at his desk he tried his best to avoid thinking about the grinding gears in his chest, instead staring intently at the book laid out before him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the soft blue of VR-LA’s scarf, which he’d folded neatly as he could considering its length. Atop it rested the Staff of the Clockwork Swarm. The other mechanite had not been required to provide him with either item, but had insisted on upholding Maxim’s rules. Even when Maxim himself had been prepared to waive them.

It didn’t take long of him rereading the same paragraph to no avail to realise it was not going to assist him in ignoring his worries. Instead, he reached for the scarf. It was some fifteen feet long and woven of fine wool. Looking closely at the weave he could see the faintest threads of shimmering white, branching through it like lightning. Appropriate for its wearer, he thought. Maxim was quite sure the faint dark stain on the collar was old blood, but thinking back to the ruthless determination VR-LA had displayed earlier, he resolved to not question it. Instead, with a flick of his fingers it vanished, leaving the fabric unmarred.

With a harsh huff he rested it in his lap, idle hands brushing over the soft surface. He began observing the little mechanical insects laid out of his desk. With the staff returned he no longer had to worry about restarting it, rather he could simply look into further improvements. The thought came with no small amount of relief as the memory of temperamental systems and long days of discordance was brought back. It seemed today's bout of broken gears had subsided somewhat, yet he could still feel the millisecond difference between his own beating powercore and the ticking of Mechanus. 

He should be resting, but he had already tried and failed to enter stasis. Some ten or so hours had passed since the crew of the Per Aspera had made their leave, so he was more than a little exhausted. Eye sight blurred and hands shaking ever so slightly. Yet he found himself waiting for some unknown confirmation of his associate’s safety. A metal hand clenched the fabric of the scarf, tension and pressure building in his gaskets. He had already believed VR-LA dead once and had managed to continue on with relative efficiency and minimal grief, why he was so gripped by worry confused him. Perhaps he simply didn’t want the comfortable status quo to break again. The whole situation was too familiar, left him with a sickening feeling, like there were lead weights nestled in his mechanics.

He started when a voice, accompanied by the faintest hum of magic, chimed in his mind, “Mission was a success. At some point I will return back to you to retrieve what is mine and give back what is yours. Thank you again.”

A small hiss escaped him as the building pressure released. It seemed fate had indeed decided that VR-LA was made for greater things than demise at the hands of Illithid. Maxim closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment to compose himself.

“I—” He stalled, losing his words, “I am glad. I would not wish to see you lose another… You once referred to them as family, so I will do so again. I would not wish to see you lose another family. Come when you are ready.”

Maxim refolded the scarf and gently put it back on his desk, turning his gaze to VR-LA’s old wasp blueprint. Perhaps in order to assuage his worries he could begin more regular communication. With Sending the wizard could easily contact him, but he had no way to do so on his end. Next time they spoke he would have to ask where to address letters.

But for now, his relief imbued him with energy. Fingertips gently tracing the image, he began to consider an idea that had been nagging at him since finding it. Forgetting his tiredness, he began to rework one of the clockwork wasps in its image. Infusing it with more magic, intricate rune works edging its wings, and bright pewter and gold finishings. Maxim was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice the rhythmic harmony his gears and those of Mechanus were ticking with once more.

Chapter Text

It had been some time since VR-LA’s last visit where they re-exchanged their various magic items. While not long enough to raise concern, enough time had passed to leave Maxim feeling somewhat bereft. Despite his choice to be alone, he found himself a little tired of delivering his philosophical tangents to mechanical bugs who had no means to reciprocate the conversation. And Maxim had long ago realised that giving his creations sentience and speech was a path he’d rather not tread. He had the occasional meeting with colleagues, but they mutually kept to a strict business only policy. 

It would be nice to see VR-LA again, to speak with someone not so bogged down in professionalism. Maxim’s hypocrisy didn’t escape him. He was the one choosing to conduct his relationships in such a way after all. But there was something about VR-LA’s company that made it so much harder to stick to his usually ironclad principles. Maybe it was due to his increasingly familiar demeanour. Or simply that VR-LA seemed to view them more like guidelines, sticking rigidly to them one moment and seemingly forgetting the next. Regardless, it had made it all too easy for Maxim to follow his lead and also waive them on occasions.

He found himself pacing the room, metal feet striking the metal floor with harsh clinks. He had no grounds to request VR-LA’s company. The improvements to the staff were still in the drafting phase and they had no other ongoing projects. He could ask about Docent, but he got the sense from their last meeting that VR-LA was currently focused on looking after his current crew more than anything else. The adventurer was likely off Primus knows where doing just that, adventuring. Maxim hardly wanted to interrupt or take up what little in the way of peace and free time he probably got.

Well…

He paused in his steps, glancing over to a particular bronze and pewter wasp on his work desk, the blue arcane nodes currently dormant. Perhaps there was something Maxim could do. He was hardly going to ask VR-LA to visit, but maybe suggest the idea? Or at the very least open up further communication. He was planning on delivering the wasp anyway, considering he’d already come to the conclusion he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it in person. That felt far too personal, too much like a gift. It wasn’t a gift, just a… just a token of good faith. 

Moving to sit at his desk, he began drafting a letter to accompany the wasp. The mechanical insect was more or less complete, it simply had to be activated, so he could save that for last. For now, he eyed the blank page sternly, willing himself to seem cordial and definitely not slightly desperate.

Beginning was easy enough, it would be good to mention that he continued to work on the staff, as was asking about the Docent. It was at the final line that he began to struggle.

Please alert me if you choose to visit.

Maxim shook his head and drew a line through the text. Too formal and short, it made him sound almost irritated by the prospect.

Please alert me if you choose to visit.  I always welcome your presence, should you wish to visit, you only need to Send me a message.

He squinted at the page. That seemed a little too much like he was asking for company. Which he absolutely was, but even admitting it to himself made his gears twist uncomfortably, let alone the thought of someone else being made aware of the fact.

After a little more trial and error, he settled on something that seemed suitably pleasant but not overly friendly. He took a moment to copy over the final message onto his stationary, rereading it one last time before sliding the paper into an envelope.

VR-LA,

I thought an update on the progress of the Staff of the Clockwork Swarm would be appreciated. Other affairs currently require my attention, but rest assured it remains a priority and more field tests will be required in the future. Please inform me if you have made any breakthroughs on the DOCENT, I still retain a vested interest in that project. Your presence, and that of your companions, would be welcome again; please alert me should you choose to visit.

Cordially, Maxim

He hummed to himself, pleased by the note, then turned his attention to the wasp. It was well constructed, but he was a little worried about its spindly legs and delicate wings. He took great care in packaging it, he hardly wanted it to arrive damaged. Once he’d done so, Maxim secured the note on top. His best guess as to where he’d send it would be the port of Sigil, with instructions to be delivered to the Per Aspera, hopefully that would work.

Maxim’s fans whirred slightly at the thought of sending the package. It really wasn’t all that much, simply a letter and a wasp, yet he fidgeted as he considered its reception. He couldn’t think of anything about it that would make VR-LA uncomfortable, but yet again he was still at a loss as to how much the wizard had changed. He resolved himself to not think on the matter further, putting on the stern facade he usually reserved for the rare times when he was with company. He’d send it, and then what’s done was done. 

☆☆☆

Receiving letters, while not unheard of, was somewhat of an uncommon occurrence. Usually it only ever happened as a response to inquiries Maxim himself had made. A message from an unknown sender, with no event to warrant a new contact, was strange to say the least. He briefly considered it may be a reply from VR-LA, but he was sure the wizard would just use sending. It was only after careful scrutiny, and employing detect magic, that he broke the clumsily made seal.

The letter was folded in a similar fashion, as though large hands had done their best, yet ultimately failed, at getting the edges to align. It was written in a blocky script, the author clearly trying hard to keep it neat. Once again he found himself puzzled at the strange letter. Most of his correspondence were of academic nature, yet this was a far too atypical style to come from such a source. A single glance at the first line was all it took for Maxim to realise who the sender was, and he felt his faceplate heat in embarrassment at his overly cautious examination.

Howdy Max,

I’m planning a little get together for the crew and some of the friends we’ve met along the way. In about two weeks it’ll be the one year aniversary of us finding Kyana and completing our litle family. Given that you and VR-LA go a ways back, and that he’s fond of you, I thought it inportant to ask you along. Your invited to come spend the evening with us at the Sprite Spring in Sigil. I under stand that you don’t really leave your house, so I get it if you can’t come. But all the same your welcome to.

- Finbar :)

Maxim skimmed over the spelling and grammatical errors, blinking at the letter in confusion. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever asked him to do something with other people. Most got the picture pretty quickly. However, it seemed that Finbar either didn’t care in the slightest that Maxim was rather socially averse, or it had flown right over his head. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the implication that he and VR-LA were friends. It was something he’d considered quietly to himself, but never once thought to act on. The fact that the wizard was apparently fond of him didn’t help his internal conflict. It made his powercore spark in a way that he wasn’t sure was indicative of nerves or him being flustered. With a shake of his head, the sorcerer went over the letter once more.

Going off the high quality stationary, he’d guess Finbar had borrowed some of VR-LA’s spell scribing paper and inks to write the letter. Wincing slightly, he hoped the wizard wasn’t short on such resources. They weren’t exactly cheap, especially to someone with such unstable employment. Not for the first time he wondered why VR-LA didn’t just take on a job as a researcher. He’d certainly be good at it, and from what Maxim could tell he enjoyed such work. Finding someone willing to pay for his services would be easy, far easier than fighting aberrations out on the Astral Sea. Safer to.

He opened a drawer in his desk, removing his own stationary. Idly fiddling with his pen, Maxim spent a few minutes considering his response. He could hardly leave his sanctum, it was out of the question, but he couldn’t deny that the invitation was rather sweet. Still, he’d have to decline.

It was reassuring to think that, despite all which had happened to the wizard, he’d once again found himself a family. The apparent ease with which VR-LA cared for people didn’t compute with the core axioms of Maxim’s being. Was he not just setting himself up to feel that pain all over again? Had he truly no fear of the potential repercussions? The sorcerer pushed aside the thoughts, there was no use wondering at why VR-LA did what he did. How he seemed to have unshakable determination in the place of fear and common sense. It was an uncomfortably familiar scenario, and a question he’d found himself considering many times. Yet as always, it remained unanswered.

Maxim tried his best to ignore his spiralling thoughts in favour of composing a response. He wondered how VR-LA would react to Finbar’s surprise. The wizard would undoubtedly find it touching. Maxim had rarely heard him laugh, not that he seemed unhappy, but rather it didn’t seem to be a common occurrence. Perhaps this would earn a warm chuckle or a shocked huff of laughter? Maybe his eyes would flash and widen in the same way they did when Maxim had first given VR-LA the staff.

Realising he had stopped writing and started staring blankly at his bookshelf, Maxim’s gears ground a little harsher. All he had to do was write a brief reply, yet his thoughts kept wandering off. Glancing around his workshop, with books open to random pages and half finished projects scattered across tables, he again resigned himself to the fact that his letter writing abilities were hardly the only thing suffering from his inability to focus. 

He quickly finished his draft, rereading it a few times to ensure he made no slip ups in his choice of words. It seemed to be satisfactory. Formal but still polite, with general enough well wishes to apply to the whole crew. Maxim briefly considered writing a note specifically for VR-LA, something a little more personalised. He felt that he may be able to better word such a response, to convey his thoughts more clearly. But he brushed aside the thought as quickly as it came. That may be a step too far. They had only spoken a few times since the wizard’s return. Maxim hardly wanted to push things. Not with the danger of his ever present melancholy worsening if something were to go wrong.

He copied over his letter, rereading it one last time.

Though your invitation is most flattering, I must regrettably decline your request that I attend the festivities. Please enjoy the celebration of your adopted annual natal day in the manner you find most pleasing.

- Maxim

He sealed the envelope before placing it aside to be sent when he got the chance. Frowning slightly, he wondered if he should have enclosed some form of gift. He knew it was generally customary to do so, but unequal exchange was not in his nature. Perhaps if it were just to VR-LA he’d feel more inclined, but it would be rude of him to be so exclusive. So instead he returned to his work, improving the staff would have to suffice.

☆☆☆

The tick of Mechanus was faint within Maxim’s demiplane, but the space hummed with magic, even more so than his sanctum. He sat behind a desk, various tomes open before him. In one, he jotted down notes and thoughts while using another to write more at length. He was working on his own research into the various societies of the Material Plane. Despite many planar people’s disregard for the Prime, Maxim found its intricate and complex history fascinating. The other planes, for all the diversity between them, had a far narrower scope. But the Prime was as old if not older than some of the planes. It had societies of nearly every mortal species, and even to one as widely studied as Maxim, there was so much to cover that what he knew was only a sliver. 

Currently, he was attempting to compile notes on the westernmost continent of Maztica, yet sources were sparse and contradictory. No doubt due to the fact the continent suffered greatly during the Spellplague, vanishing entirely until returning during the Second Sundering. Any records of the tumultuous period were spotty at best, and most scholars struggled to understand the forces at play that caused such events. All in all, the task was as fascinating as it was futile. His interest was mainly regarding the peoples and civilisations of the continent, yet being unable to piece together the larger picture made understanding the micro level far more difficult.

Maxim resolved to focus on procuring more reliable and detailed sources. He had a colleague from the Transcendent Academy that may be able to find him something. If not, he could seek out contact with an Avowed of Candlekeep or an agent of Silverymoon. The best place to look for reliable information would be the plane it originated from after all, and they were well known and regarded centres of knowledge in the Prime. A pity he had no means to find or speak with anyone who had visited the location. A first hand account would be invaluable.

He sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk. As Maxim was skimming over what he had written so far, a faint arcane crackle sounded in the back of his mind. Glancing up in recognition of the spell, he waited for the sending to come through. While the list of possible messengers wasn’t large by any means, he was acquainted with enough people with such abilities that he couldn’t immediately guess who it was. Hopefully someone tolerable with something interesting. Maxim enjoyed his own work and carefully constructed routine, interruptions were usually tiresome. But the long stretches of nothing but ticking and turning pages did get a little old after a while. He’d appreciate a reprieve from the monotony, provided it came from a pleasant source.

A soft, familiar voice chimed in his mind, “Hello Maxim, this is VR-LA. I’m in search of some protective magic items. If you have any in your storage that you’re willing to exchange, I would be willing to make some sort of transaction, at your convenience.”

It had been no small amount of time since he’d heard directly from the wizard, the last being his visit after the issue with the Mindflayers. The energy produced by his powercore increased slightly, sending a pleasant warmth through his systems. He was somewhat relieved to hear VR-LA’s voice and know that he was okay. Although, the request for protective enchantments had some concerning implications.

Ignoring the sudden influx of energy, Maxim turned his focus to business. He spoke to empty air but could feel how his words seemed to hum and spark as they left his speakers, being transported through the Weave, “VR-LA, it has been some time. Yes, what sort of protection are you seeking? A boon to the strength of your armour, or something unique?”

There was a slight delay as the spell transmitted the message, but not long after the wizard’s voice sounded again, “Both would be ideal. I have a couple of magic items that you might be interested in exchanging them for. If not, I and the crew of the Per Aspera are willing to perform a job for you.”

“Let me search my wares and conduct some research. I will call upon you shortly. We will discuss price upon your visit. I look forward to our partnership in this endeavour, VR-LA.”

He paused, not expecting another response but waiting all the same. When a few seconds passed, he lowered his head from where he’d been staring into empty space. VR-LA was polite and businesslike as usual, yet he couldn’t help but notice the slight tiredness in his voice. Maybe Maxim was over analysing things. Either way, he was genuine in saying he looked forward to working on this. It would give him something new to focus on.

Carefully filing away his research, Maxim stood and walked through his library and down the hall to his treasury. He was relatively sure he didn’t have anything that would be particularly useful to VR-LA on hand. But the prospect of having to find something himself was far more interesting. It seemed, between this and his own needs, he’d have to be a little more social than usual. But being busy was good, it was distracting. Not having anything to do and being stuck with nothing but his own thoughts was far worse. It made the shadow of grief that hung over him more tangible. He did his best to push the memories from his mind before they spiralled further, instead returning focus to the project ahead of him. Maxim looked forward to seeing VR-LA once more. Perhaps he could try to make time for them to talk, that would be enjoyable. He was certainly in need of some pleasant company.

Chapter Text

The workshop was, to put it frankly, a mess. More so than usual that is. The organised chaos now simply chaos. Scrolls and note pages were scattered across any available surface, including the floor, while mechanical bugs filtered to and fro. The Staff of the Clockwork Swarm lay half deconstructed on a semi clear workbench, tools laying about. It was unlike Maxim to leave his space in such disarray, yet he had been so caught up in his various projects that he’d not found a moment to clean. The issue of his deal with the Few was particularly pressing. He’d been researching furiously for the past week in a desperate attempt to puzzle out how he could find a long lost spell. Eventually, he concluded that a devil may be the only way. For that he needed to make a deal, and for that to not go horribly wrong, he needed VR-LA.

The problem he faced now was that the wizard was arriving today, and his sanctum was still a mess. Hopefully, he didn’t mind the chaos. 

Maxim was partway through finding the relevant notes for the day and clearing some space when he heard the faint chime of the door being opened via password. With a start, he shoved a few files onto the nearest shelf and swept some old notes off the main desk. He still hadn’t got the summoning scroll out. Or the materials the wizard would need to copy the new spell. Or the notes on the devil itself. A second was spent debating whether to leave VR-LA waiting while he gathered the last of the supplies, but he left it, instead turning down the hall to the foyer.

Maxim took a second to school himself into his usual stoic bearing before opening the door, revealing the silver mechanite standing in the faint golden light. Once again, he’d changed since Maxim had last seen him. Now adorned in deep blue robes and wearing a wizards hat, all speckled with glittering stars. He noted with some curiosity that VR-LA’s silver plating, while restored to its chrome finish, was now split through with jagged lines of gold. They clearly sealed fractures, not dissimilar to scars on an organic being’s body. There was one that travelled along the side of his head before disappearing into his eye socket. A few smaller lines traced up his hands and across his arm. But the one that caught his eye was thicker, and wrapped right around his chest, swirling in marbled pattern. The mere thought of the damage he must have sustained to cause such a scar resulted in an uncomfortable wrench in his mechanics. The cogs in his chest ground harshly. The strength of the reaction surprised Maxim, and he forced himself his gears to calm their twisting.

He gave a slight bow in greeting before he spoke, “VR-LA, allow me to welcome you to my sanctum. I trust your journey was with tribulation?”

“In a sense, no.” The wizard was quiet, his usual faint mechanical monotone more present, “I do not come with my ship. I have been placed on shore leave, but I was able to get here fine all the same.”

Maxim gave a hum of acknowledgment. VR-LA not having his ship was evidently deeply uncomfortable for him if he was reading his associate correctly. His posture was tense and his gaze locked on the wall behind Maxim rather than his face. He squinted slightly, expression growing sterner as he looked the wizard over. On top of his fraught emotions, he seemed tired. A little subdued. VR-LA had been in a better state when Maxim first saw him after the incident, which only fueled his earlier concern. Perhaps he caught Maxim's noticing of the fact, as he hurried to relax. From his bag he pulled a mechanical wasp, wings buzzing with arcane energy as it lifted off into the air.

“I meant to thank you for this! You sent it some time ago and I never did thank you.”

“Naturally, your thanks are appreciated. I merely wished to keep you notified of the progress made on the staff.” He thought back to the mess awaiting them upstairs and the fragments of his various projects lying around. “I assure you though I have been somewhat busy of late with, well, perhaps it is easier if I show you. Please, to my study.”

Maxim led him into the workshop, cringing slightly when he had to step over a few papers scattered across the floor. The wasps buzzed in recognition as they entered. Perhaps they remembered VR-LA? He was unsure of the degree to which his creations were sentient, but it was interesting nonetheless. With a flick of his finger, he summoned his mage hand, sending it off to tidy things away. VR-LA briefly surveyed the room, yet to the sorcerer’s relief did not comment its disarray. Perhaps sharing a ship with more chaotic folk had made him used to it.

Ignoring the mess, he explained, “After your request that I looked into the acquisition of perhaps some better armament for yourself, given your precarious line of work, I located just such an item in the possession of another.” 

He spent a few moments covering the nature of Elven Chain. While never having seen it in person Maxim had read descriptions of its beauty. Shimmering with starlight and near weightless, yet as strong as mithril. He had no doubt such an item would be highly beneficial to the wizard. The thought that it would keep him guarded from harm certainly calmed himself as well. 

“Locating it was the easy part, however. Obtaining it I require your aid.” He turned back to VR-LA, who tilted his head in curiosity. 

“I am happy to give it.”

“Very well, I spoke with an order who call themselves The Few,” Maxim continued for some time, explaining the Astral Elves and discussing the deal which he had struck. The thought of picking the mind of someone not bound by the constraints of time and mortality was fascinating. The secrets one could learn from as little as an hour of conversation made him almost buzz with rarely felt excitement. Perhaps at a later date, he could share some of the findings with VR-LA. No doubt he would be interested in such things.

The wizard brought him back to the more immediate matter, gesturing for him to elaborate, “You said there was a perhaps however?”

“Indeed. As I said these Few, however many there are, are very long lived and well connected. Their prices are not low as a result, and their interests exotic. Yythreavel has requested that we procure for her a spell currently forgotten by any mortal mage.” 

There was a beat of silence as VR-LA blinked at him. His puzzlement was understandable, as it had been Maxim’s initial reaction as well. 

“Did they tell you the nature of this spell?”

“No, fortunately the demands were unspecific beyond this. It seems that the function of the spell is of minimal importance. Either she seeks to have it simply as a curio, or this is a test. Or perhaps,” he paused, gesturing vaguely as he searched for the right words, “What do youth often say… a prank upon us to seem the fool on an impossible task.”

“Well, assuming it isn’t the latter, I suppose we shall put our best foot forward.”

“Indeed, and even if it is the latter I am not one to be made the fool.” He turned, rifling through scattered and crumpled pages. “I’ve gone ahead and in the last couple of weeks dove into some of my research. It is not the first time in my work I’ve had to search for deep history regarding a fiend that we might speak with.”

At that, VR-LA gave a hum of curiosity, eyes following to where Maxim’s hands were rooting through papers. Given the shape of his face plate, the wizard always looked inquisitive, yet he had a habit of tilting his head and teetering ever so slightly foward when particularly interested in something. After spending time with this new crew he had started to act more and more like an organic being. Strange for a mechanite. Clearly, VR-LA cared for these people very much, and they’d worn away at his formerly stiff demeanour. Maxim returned his attention to his notes.

“I have done such a thing. I have located the true name of a Lore Devil of the Nine Hells of Baator.” With a clink of his wrist joint, he gestured to the runic circle on the floor. “My intention, with your aid of course, will be to summon this devil here, speak with them on obtaining a forgotten spell, bargain their freedom for it. And then once we have obtained that, you with your skills in copying scrolls make two copies in addition to the first. One for yourself, one for myself. The original to be given to Yythreavel.”

VR-LA paused, seemingly confused, before clarifying, “The second for me to keep?”

“Indeed, payment for your help with the devil—”

“And here I thought the elven chain was enough”

“—And then payment for the chain with the spell.”

“I see,” his eyes glowed a bit brighter, clearly pleased, and he gave a nod, “You do me too kind.”

The two continued to discuss further, running over their plan of action. At Maxim’s mention of contracts, he could hear the whirl of VR-LA’s mechanics speed up, eyes flashing as he leant foward eagerly. He had not known VR-LA held such an interest in law. He couldn’t help but find the wizard’s enthusiasm for the prospect of bargaining with a devil amusing. Most would be struck with fear by the thought, yet it was unsurprising that such things wouldn’t concern VR-LA. His perception of danger was likely concerningly skewed.

When all the necessary information was laid out, Maxim retrieved a spell scroll and crystalline vial. Placing the vial on the ground he laid out the scroll, its deep red ink and jagged Infernal runes shimmering with power. He spoke the incantation in an arcane tongue that sounded akin to grating steel and crackling flame. The edges began to burn away, dissolving as its magic was spent.

“I call forth Kinziru of Dis, keeper of secrets and scrolls to the Lord of the Second. Heed my summons, fiend of the Nine Hells of Baator.”

The dancing lights, previously glowing a warm amber, flickered out. There was a flash of darkness and heat as the fabric between worlds tore. Maxim felt his gears shudder, arcane energy sparking through his systems. Fiery fractaling motes rippled through the dark. The room shuddered as the Planeshift took effect, warping the devil into space. With a final snap, it expanded, the magic settling once more.

It stood tall, taller than VR-LA, wrapped entirely in tattered scrolls that shimmered with ever shifting runes. In the shadowed folds of parchment two red eyes burned. With a screech it lashed out. Wicked black claws struck the arcane glass, rebounding as it was shocked in return. VR-LA stood impassive throughout its display, while Maxim kept an eye on the proceedings, holding focus on the spell.

Throughout their time spent together, Maxim had only ever witnessed about three of VR-LA’s moods. Usually he was mild mannered and studious, but on occasion they’d fallen into a more casual rapport where he’d seen his excitement toward his work and deep care he held for his crew. And once, the empty cold of his anger. This however, was new. He toed the line between polite and threatening, maintaining his usual calm demeanour but with a layer of nearly brash confidence. Maxim had never placed VR-LA as one for theatrics, but that was evidently an incorrect assumption. He made a show of picking apart the devil's deception while maintaining a mockery of politeness. Usually, such arrogance would concern if not outright irritated Maxim, yet he couldn’t deny the fact that the wizard had the skill to back up his confidence. At times he even found the light of his eyes involuntarily flickering with amusement. In all honesty, Maxim was impressed. The few who were daring enough to try such a feat wouldn’t have the skill to pull it off, and those who did usually numbered among scholars to meek or wise to try it.

While their battle of wits continued in the background, he considered VR-LA’s apparent practice in law. He’d been aware of his keen eye when it came to literature and academic scripts, hence him asking for his help. But the wizard had never made any mention of his interest in law, yet he must have been at least somewhat practised. Perhaps it came as a necessity of managing his crew. It wasn’t hard for Maxim to imagine Dani doing something illegal and needing a friend to get her out of trouble. Either way, he would note that down. Maybe he had some books to share on the subject. Any prompt for starting a conversation was helpful. He missed their old talks, and perhaps by speaking about something he enjoyed Maxim may help lift VR-LA’s ill mood from being without his ship.

It took little time for VR-LA to come to a suitable bargain. Both he and the devil leaned back from where they had been regarding each other, mere inches from the arcane glass and sitting in symmetry. Maxim heard a satisfied whirl of gears as VR-LA read the contract a final time. It seemed the clause about sparing a life was of little concern to him. However, Maxim couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about it. The clause wasn’t even in regards to himself, yet the thought of all the horrible ways that could end for VR-LA caused his mechanics to catch. 

The sharp nip of one of his mechanical bugs sealed the deal. With another shudder of the room and a last bit of snark from VR-LA, Kinziru was released. Left behind was a small scroll weathered with age and fire.

With an excited dial up sound, VR-LA scooped up the scroll, hurrying over to a nearby work bench to lay it out. Maxim took a moment to relax the building pressure in his systems from concentrating on the spell before joining him. Leaning over the wizard’s shoulder, he peered at the jagged infernal script. The ink seemed to dance faintly, as though imbued with fire. A cursory glance at the basic spell structure reminded him of the Reduce spell, although the transmutative runes were far more complex. Curious, he leant forward, chest clanking faintly against VR-LA shoulders. Maxim felt the wizard still, the sound of fans briefly whirring to life, before the tension his posture eased once more. Before he could give an apology for startling him, VR-LA leant into the touch, holding up the scroll for Maxim to see better. The press of cold metal contrasted the soft thick fabric of his scarf, and he found himself momentarily frozen.

VR-LA started talking, gesturing at the interlocking glyphs and deciphering their meanings. His analysis gave Maxim an excuse to ignore the sudden stuttering of his powercore, however he was quite sure that if he raised a hand to his faceplate he’d find it rather warm. But that didn’t bare thinking about, not when there was still a deal to complete. The weight of VR-LA’s leaning against him was inconsequential any how. Certainly not a bother. If he found it somewhat comforting, then that was something for him to deal with later.

☆☆☆

The pair worked in easy silence, broken only by the faint scratch of VR-LA’s pen, turning pages, and Mechanus’s ticking clockwork. In the few times Maxim had met with VR-LA since the incident, they’d had neither the time nor reason to simply work side by side. He could admit that he’d missed the companionable silence provided by the other mechanite. It allowed him to continue with his own research as he usually did, yet seemed to sap away the miasma of loneliness he often found himself clouded in. The wizard’s presence was certainly a welcome one. Welcome enough that he found himself quietly wishing that VR-LA was not so efficient in his transcribing, so that this time together may be longer. At the very least, Yythreavel would not be here until the following day, so he had a few hours remaining in which he could enjoy VR-LA’s company.

Glancing up from his book on the fundamentals of spell replicative arcanotech, Maxim spent a moment regarding his companion. It was always a good idea to understand those you shared your time and space with. It protected them as well as himself, allowing him to carefully conduct discussion in a way that wouldn’t offend anyone, and showed him how much trust he should place in them. Noting how one portrayed and carried themself was an excellent way to gain insight into their character. As he’d seen when first greeting him in the foyer, VR-LA had changed quite a bit since his last visit. 

He was somewhat hunched over his work, delicately copying the arcane glyphs. With his hat tilted back, VR-LA’s head was haloed in a ring of night sky, deep blues and purples, speckled with kaleidoscopic stars. They were reflected on the silvered plating of his face, making it appear as though he was freckled with constellations. Like he was cast out of some esoteric, astral alloy. 

It suited him, stars always had.

Maxim usually didn’t find himself paying much attention to aesthetics. It didn’t mean he did not appreciate beauty or quality design, simply that he tended to focus on functionality first. However, he found that in this case he couldn't help but take note of it. Constructed from silvery, star speckled plates all filigreed with fine golden wiring, VR-LA was on the more ornamented side of mechanites. Even the fractured scars were sealed with an inlay of gold and laced his body like lightning. The elegance of his design was juxtaposed by his disproportional height, tall and whip thin, yet lacking in any kind of willowy grace associated with such a build. Maxim wouldn’t call him clumsy, but perhaps a little uncoordinated. Stilted in his movements. He found it rather endearing if he was being honest.

What he normally thought of when considering a person was their mind, their intellect. What knowledge could they share? VR-LA was no disappointment in that regard. Bright, curious and with a deep interest and understanding of history and magic. He had all the qualities to gain Maxim’s attention. Yet what set him apart was his experience. VR-LA was, first and foremost, a traveller. A chronicler of the planes. One that had not just read of and briefly visited the great wheel, but rather someone who immersed himself in it entirely. That kind of first hand source was invaluable. The authenticity VR-LA brought to their discussions was something even the most learned of the Transcendent Academy could not match. To add to it further, the wizard seemed not to mind the odd tangents and random topics that Maxim often found himself delving into, even expressing enjoyment of such quirks in their forgotten meetings. Whether or not that still held true was uncertain, but he had not shown sign of annoyance yet.

Maxim frowned slightly, blinking with annoyance as he realised he’d instead been ruminating on his personal perception of VR-LA, rather than searching for deeper insight. By now wizard had already begun rolling up the completed scrolls. Turning his gaze back to his work before he was caught staring, Maxim began filling it away for a later date. If his associate was amenable, he’d like to spend some time sharing thoughts. Nothing to do with business or research, just small talk. Maxim had recently been going over some tomes on the history of adventuring and its effect on the development of spellwork. It seemed a field that VR-LA would be well versed in. Getting his opinion on such matters would be interesting.

They did indeed spend the next few hours in conversation. VR-LA was all too eager to talk about whatever random topic of interest surfaced. It lasted long into the time when he would usually rest, but one night of sacrificed stasis seemed a fair trade for the wizard's company. He also showed no sign of wishing to stop, listening to Maxim’s tangents with curiosity and asking an endless flood of clarifying questions. His own stories about the travels and encounters of the Per Aspera were fascinating, if somewhat alarming. The ideological factions of Sigil held his interest keenly. Many wars and great tragedies had been caused by the clash of philosophies. The knowledge that such conflicts were stirring to life once again was curious, but overall irrelevant to his life in Mechanus.

Sitting talking about whatever topic caught their interest felt like they were in one of their past meeting. As though the tragedy VR-LA had faced and Maxim’s temperamental physical state had simply been hypothetical. Nothing more than an unpleasant thought. Yet one glance at the wizard dispelled this. He wore the evidence of change, the scars of his hardships, like a badge of honour. A symbol for all to see. Maxim could not deny the beauty of the golden fractures, and from a philosophical perspective he could understand their meaning. Yet sealing them in such a way must have been a painful process. Molten metal being poured into the fractures, then hammered and smoothed into shape. Why put oneself through more pain? He supposed many cultures exhibited such practices. But it was something that Maxim found himself baffled by.

For the first time in many months, Maxim lost track of time. So when a soft chime sounded from the front door he fell abruptly silent from his speech on the various species of insect he’d been constructing. It seemed Yythreavel had arrived.

☆☆☆

With the slightest flick of his hand, the door to his sanctum swung open, allowing Yythreavel to make her exit. Maxim noted with some curiosity that VR-LA still stood beyond the door, book and pen in hand. Glancing down at the page he saw a precise rendering of the elven spelljammer. While Maxim had plenty enough skill to create blueprints, the wizard’s drawings were far beyond what he could manage. Scientific and perfectly realistic, like one had flawlessly transferred the image into drawn form. The wizard did not immediately turn away from his work, eyes locked on the ship as his hand seemed to move of its own accord. As the elf made her leave he tucked his book away, exchanging a brief farewell. She stepped aboard her ship, leaving it free to drift off into the infinite clockwork. Maxim turned his attention back to VR-LA.

“With that our business is concluded,” he paused, debating for the briefest moment whether his offer would be too unprofessional, “If you wish to stay and discuss anything else VR-LA, please, feel free to remain my guest.”

“I appreciate the offer but I must be back. As I said, my ship is on shore leave.” The faint scraping of metal accompanied the next words he spoke, “I shudder to think what its owner has done to it in the time I have been away.”

“I can understand wanting to remain close to one's position and home,” a valid sentiment indeed, yet he could not keep himself from letting the faintest twinge of disappointment colour his words.

“If I could, uh…” VR-LA’s voice sounded with a static buzz, “If you could indulge me for one last question however?”

More curious than concerned, Maxim gave a slight nod. “By all means.”

“I believe it is you who, in my first, your second or third at this point I don't remember… But my first encounter with you along with the rest of the Per Aspera, where I heard the term ‘god botherer’?”

He gave a slight huff of amusement, steam briefly clouding the air, “Yes, be careful whose company you use it in though. You certainly would not have wanted to use it in front of Yythreavel. The astral elves journey to the sea in order to be closer to their gods cosmologically”

“I hold no presumptions or judgement. I simply wanted to know your position regarding the gods.”

A strange question, but interesting nonetheless. He paused to formulate a full answer, “The gods hold great power. I've seen them do mighty things. I have seen their servants do mightier still. They are but little without us, and the failing of a mortal in the service of a god can be more devastating than the failing of the god themself.”

“The servants, normally they are chosen by the god themself or the servant has pledged themself in the name of said god. Yes?”

“That is usually the case. A god seeks a follower, or more often, a follower seeks a god. But if you wish to know my wisdom on the matter, in my experience those truly important, the ones who go on to be the heroes of legend, they are born that way. And it is the universe that must bend to them.” Throughout Maxim’s speech VR-LA grew more tense, seemingly on the verge of saying something. Where this was leading he could not yet guess, but he began connect some dots. The twisting gears in his chest almost made him feel a little nauseous. What had happened to bring about such questions?

The silence hung heavy for a moment before the wizard spoke, growing quieter and more mechanical with each word, “And what if one were not simply to whisper to the gods, but bargain with them?”

Oh. 

Pressure began to build in his systems. Gears caught and his powercore stalled. Maxim kept his tone light regardless, sensing after his previous heavy comments VR-LA might not be taking the conversation too well, “Then let us hope that individual is as good a bargainer as you were with the devil.”

“Oh, I agree. We can only hope,” the words left him in a rush and the hard line of his shoulders snapped loose. “Thank you for your time, Maxim. Hopefully we can meet under, not simply just— not calling upon a favour, but to further discuss our crafts and our vocations. That was enjoyable.”

VR-LA gave a slight nod and stepped back, hand twisting a gold ring on his finger. Such habits of fidgeting were often performed by organic beings, Maxim had noticed the wizard demonstrated many such quirks. If he was correct, this could be a sign of nervousness. It certainly seemed appropriate given the context.

“Our conversations are payment enough to me.” He regarded his associate for a moment, and his next words were less a farewell and more a request.

“Please, be well VR-LA.”

Chapter Text

Maxim knelt inside the cylindrical body of the clockwork staff, careful not to damage any of the delicate arcane circuits lacing the walls around him. With quick precise movements, he carved a new string of enchantments into its mechanics, occasionally switching to his tools to adjust a few out of line cogs. Being only one inch tall made the whole process run far smoother. Gone were the days of using a series of magnifying lenses and having to keep his hands impossibly steady. Now he could simply walk inside the staff and change its minuscule mechanics with ease. He’d also managed to inscribe the wasps with an altered version of the shrink spell, allowing for a far greater number to fit within. He still had a few problems to go over. Reconnecting the pieces would take some time as would ensuring it remained retractable. But he was confident this iteration’s completion was not far away.

His gears whirred in satisfaction as he looked over his work. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Working more on the staff was a nice reprieve from the stress of solving the devil problem and a refreshing break from his day to day research. Maxim looked forward to VR-LA’s next visit, with any luck he’d have his staff completed and ready to undergo further field tests. There was also the small stack of law books he’d taken to paging through in his spare time. As a being of absolute law, the subject came easy to Maxim. Although the seemingly illogical idiosyncrasies and technicalities it was prone to irked him somewhat. Hopefully the next time he saw the wizard they’d have time to converse. He’d like to go over the subject with him, no doubt VR-LA would have some new perspective that Maxim hadn’t considered.

As seemed to be the trend as of late, the sorcerer was so focused on his work and thoughts that he missed the soft chime of the front door being unlocked. He only realised he had guests when he heard their footsteps enter the room. Maxim straightened up swiftly enough that his head clanked against the curved metal above him. With a pained hiss of steam, he began delicately stepping over the gears to the opening. Mechanical muscles tensed and the hard lines of his face plate grew harsher. He was not expecting guests and he wasn’t overly fond of surprises. To make it worse, he’d completely missed their arrival. But upon stepping out of the staff he felt the tension drain, as standing in his workshop was a familiar silver mechanite, garbed in blue robes and now, shimmering chain. VR-LA stood amongst the motley patchwork of his crew; Kyana in her iridescent robes and dragon scale belt, Dani with her grease stained coveralls and leather jacket, and Finbar cloaked in greenery and armour of arcane metal. The giantkin’s eyes caught sight of Maxim, brow furrowing at his diminished size. Behind the group stood a new figure, but his attention went first to the wizard.

“VR-LA, I did not expect your return so soon,” stepping off the table as he spoke he let the spell slip from his mind, relief and the slightest hint of warmth seeping into his tone. With a slight rumble of gears and crank of metal, he returned to his usual height.

Dani’s gaze snapped to him, squinting in confusion, before glancing back at her crew, “Did he step off the table or is that just one really sturdy table?”

“My weight is severely diminished when I am under the effects of this spell,” he replied. Looking back to VR-LA he stalled, momentarily flustered. How rude of him to miss the arrival of guests. And this was a guest he actually liked as well! With a slight wince, he spoke, “Forgive me, I did not hear you come in. It is inappropriate for a host not to greet his guests at the door.”

The wizard waved aside his apology, “Well, you were obviously preoccupied. I hold no ill will.”

“Indeed,” he said, resorting to a one word answer in hope that it would hide his awkwardness. However, he was saved by Finbar, who had been regarding him with no small amount of puzzlement.

“How'd you get that small? I know it's possible to shrink things but I ain’t seen something go that small.”

“It is an interesting story, involving negotiations with a devil,” VR-LA replied for him. A small noise of curiosity and alarm slipped from Kyana at the statement.

“Indeed,” Maxim inclined his head, “I assume VR-LA hasn't informed you?”

“I haven't had the time,” VR-LA said with a tired sigh. 

It was with that admission that Maxim took a moment to properly regard his guests. Much like the last time the sorcerer saw him, VR-LA was tired and tense. He fiddled with the golden ring on his finger, but other than that his body language and voice remained inexpressive. He’d learned how to read VR-LA long ago and the skill hadn’t faded during the time he’d been missing. Maxim mentally ran through a checklist of actions and emotions, easily noticing each of the wizard’s quirks and understanding their meanings. The knowledge that VR-LA seemed permanently on edge as of late caused no small amount of concern. He knew the mechanite was more than a little prone to overthinking, yet he also had seen his rather unshakeable resolve. The rest of his crew seemed more relaxed, but Maxim did not know them nearly as well and it was hard to say with certainty.

“Interesting, what keeps you so busy, VR-LA and crew of the Per Aspera?” Having been distracted by his worry, Maxim realised he’d completely disregarded the new figure that stood amongst them. Turning to the blue skinned giantess, a Mercane if his guess was correct, he considered her in turn, “Forgive me, I do not know this who you bring with you. What is your name?”

She gave a nod in greeting and spoke in a soft, drawling voice, “It is a pleasure to meet you, they inform me you are called Maxim. My name is Delphine, keeper of scrolls and histories.”

“Very well Delphine, keeper of scrolls and histories. Since you are an ally of the crew of thePer Aspera, I welcome you to my home. Do not make the mistake of allowing me to regret it.”

“Certainly not.”

“Very well,” he looked back to the crew, “What can I do for all of you?”

VR-LA’s eyes lit up and he lent forward in the way Maxim knew to be indicative of excitement, seeming to shake off some of his stress, “Not much actually, there might be something we can do for you.”

“Interesting,” Maxim said with a gesture to continue.

“The first time we met again, at least the crew of the Per Aspera met you, we had discussed that I had given you Docent with your intention to study it further and to unlock any further information that it may hold within,” The wizard paused, his gears audibly whirling, “Inadvertently we have done so.”

Maxim reacted at that, blinking as he took in the information before leaning forward eagerly. Whatever VR-LA had found must be incredibly interesting to cause such a stir in his emotional state.

“I will say, part of the reason why is because Docent no longer inhabits this,” he tapped the arcane node where Docent’s housing could be accessed, “Inside is a different arcane intelligence, created by an artificer in Bytopia. We had traded arcane intelligences. This one was a little, uh, murdery…”

Maxim gave an understanding nod, yet eyed the node on VR-LA’s forehead with equal parts curiosity and concern, “I am told this happens.”

“I have elected to give her the opportunity to see the world, albeit in more restrained circumstances. In return, Casimir will sift through the information in Docent and in whatever way he can, send it to me to be able to peruse at my own leisure. But what we have found— I do not know the extent at which I had spoken to you when I first gave you Docent, but my suspicions about it, and general suspicions about another Planescape, are true. Docent has revealed this explicitly.”

VR-LA spoke animatedly, his slight tendency for theatrics making itself known as he paused, letting the tension build. Drumming his fingers on the edge of his work desk, Maxim’s usually patient demeanour cracked a little. Confirming the existence of an entirely separate Planescape was… was undoubtedly revolutionary. At the very least it would have a huge impact on his own field of academia. His gears whirred, slight pressure building as he fought to process all the implications of such a discovery. But he forced himself to still, waiting for the wizard to continue.

“It originally hailed, not from a spelljammer, but a skyship named the Ad Astra. A different Planescape that made the journey to ours, but cannot make its return journey. I do not know how long ago this was, all I know is that their members have scattered, intentionally locking the information behind Docent, and crashing their ship into the second layer of Acheron.” He quieted for a moment, shifting slightly, seemingly sheepish for his dawn out tangent, before continuing with a softer tone, “I figured because these were the grounds for us first meeting, you might want to know.”

“Indeed, this changes a great many things, and supports a great many theories that have been cultivated not only by myself but others. This information will need to be carefully guarded and disseminated. But for the moment congratulations—” he spoke the next words very deliberately, carefully trying to gauge the other mechanite’s reaction, “—friend VR-LA. It appears you have unlocked some mysteries that you did not know you were seeking to find.”

“Apparently, yes! A few things came out to me, the alarming parallelisms had been noticed between their Planescape and ours. They were called Warforged, the crew of the Ad Astra. They did not have a spelljammer, they inhabited a skyship. As I understand, skyships do not have the ability traditionally to navigate between planes, but the crew had modified theirs to be able to do so. In our terms, it is the first spelljammer of its kind. And there is of course the phrase, ad astra per aspera. Also, this is new information, the person who had originally held Docent was another scribe, a Warforged named Vigil.” VR-LA slowed in his speech, built up pressure releasing with a faint hiss as he continued, “I do not know how much further I wish to draw this connection of parallelism, but I must confess, it is difficult to ignore. I do not know what to make of any of this.”

Maxim judged by the return of his mechanical tone that this was likely what had been troubling VR-LA earlier. It was clear it was taking up much of the wizard's mind, and he could quite literally hear the gears turning in his maybe-friend’s head. He hadn’t reacted much to Maxim referring to him as such, beyond perhaps the slightest widening of his eyes, yet that may have been nothing. Either way, he’d take the lack of any negative reaction as a good sign for now. 

VR-LA pulled himself out of his thoughts, returning to the topic at hand, “Our next course of action is to make our way to the second layer of Acheron, but that might be some time later. I do not know if we are strong enough, and there's the matter of finding an entrance to the second layer to begin with.”

Forcing the building pressure in his system to release, Maxim gave a low sigh, mind abuzz as he began to work through the new information. There was a lot to think of all at once, no wonder VR-LA was so tense upon arrival. In an attempt to make understanding the information easier, he looked for the simplest, most relevant topic to start.

“You give much to consider. Indeed, questions are answered, the origin of the phrase, Warforged. I’m sure there are some deeper histories to be consulted, but if it was brought by the second crew who marooned their ship in Acheron that would explain many connected but contradictory rumours about the origin of such a pejorative phrase.”

“Yes. It would suggest that this crew came long, long ago.”

“Perhaps, time moves strangely across worlds. Perhaps a similar effect has been had between them, difficult to say until we have more information, which should you learn, I would be happy to learn in turn.” He wouldn't push VR-LA to tell him more, but Maxim couldn’t deny the curiosity this had invoked within him. It had been a long while since something so interesting had come to light. But despite that, he most certainly owed the wizard something in return. “In the meantime, you require passage to Acheron?”

“That is one of the things on our checklist, yes.”

“Well, you have provided me with a great bounty of information whether you are aware of it or not. I have a trifle that perhaps shall aid you in such a journey. One moment.”

☆☆☆

Maxim’s treasury was impeccably organised, so it should only have taken him a minute to retrieve the tuning fork to Acheron. Yet he found himself taking his time sorting through the various other forks. He needed a moment to calm his racing thoughts. 

It seemed VR-LA could always be relied upon to drop some form of bombshell, as a result, Maxim’s life had gotten far more interesting. He never quite knew how to feel about their meetings. On one hand, the conversation was both engaging and comforting, it was nice to have a trusted presence to pass the time with. Yet with each visit it seemed VR-LA’s troubles expanded further and further, leaving Maxim to deal with the second hand stress. Usually the problems of others didn't affect him so much, they had little to no bearing on his own life after all. But in this case he found himself unable to shake the worry that came with each tale of adventure and glimpse into the wizard’s unstable life. He supposed this was what caring for someone was like. There was the quiet contentment that came with times of peace, and then concern born from fondness in times of danger. It had been so long since he'd bothered himself with trying to befriend or even be casual with another, and he found himself floundering at how to deal with the influx of emotion. To make matters more complicated, he’d somehow managed to pick the most danger prone person he knew to try and befriend. 

Bracing a hand against the shelf, he pushed aside the train of thought. No use overthinking things. Maxim knew the reason he enjoyed VR-LA’s company in the first place was because he was so different from his other associates. He was infinitely more interesting than any of the scholars he worked with. No one else had that combination of brilliance and eccentricity that so intrigued him. No one else bothered or dared to show personality beyond the clinical professionalism that Maxim himself usually demonstrated, and even if they did he doubted they’d be such an intriguing combination of contradictions as VR-LA. 

He did his best to ignore the familiarity of their relationship. How VR-LA’s steely resolve despite the danger he faced made Maxim’s hands shake and gears catch. A parallelism that, much like VR-LA and his twin ships, he would rather not dwell on.

Methodically he went through the last few tuning forks before picking up the one attuned to Acheron. Turning it between his fingers, he considered the information which had been uncovered, pushing away the thoughts of VR-LA and another he couldn’t bear to name. This knowledge would no doubt be dangerous if put in the wrong hands. He wasn’t sure exactly how as of yet, but the fact that it had been obscured so thoroughly was sign enough that something must be amiss. Crashing a ship into Thuldanin showed no small amount of dedication to entirely wipe it from the Planescape. It would be a perilous journey to try and uncover any remaining secrets. The now familiar twisting gears in his chest signified his growing worry.

None of them, including Maxim himself, truly understood what they could be getting into by chasing this information. What secrets, what dangers, could be buried in the endless scrapyard of Thuldanin.

Sighing with a hiss of steam, he clenched his fist around the tuning fork. To whatever god he believed VR-LA or his crew had struck a deal with, Maxim prayed that he’d be okay. He didn’t even bother to pretend it was in the interest of academia or professional courtesy. For the first time in a long time, he may have found a friend. Losing that again was something he’d rather not face. So, steeling himself once more, Maxim left his treasury, tuning fork in hand. The crew of the Per Aspera were likely stronger than he gave them credit for. He’d just have to trust that they would pull through as they had before.

☆☆☆

Maxim returned with the tuning fork, handing it to VR-LA. As he did he noted the thin, hairline fractures across his fingers and palm, sealed with gold like all his other scars. From what he could tell, it seemed like his hand had been smashed with some force, and he found himself holding back a wince at the sight. Despite that, the delicate jagged lines were like lightning shooting across his fingers and palm, little rivulets of gold winding throughout bright silver and shadowy gunmetal. It was rather pretty, in a striking type of way. How VR-LA managed to turn his pain into something beautiful, both in the literal sense of his scars and the figurative sense of his patchwork family, was somewhat of a wonder to him.

Pulling his attention away from the wizard he went on to explain, “I have a collection of such items, should they be required by myself or another. This is a tuning fork attuned to the eternal battlefield of Acheron. Should you use it within your shipPer Aspera it will transport you to the first layer. However, there is a strange phenomenon between Mechanus and Acheron, indeed between many planes that border each other philosophically. It is not unusual for a portal to emerge between them. Normally it is between corresponding layers, the first to the first, the second to the second. But Mechanus comprises one layer. Because of this, it might be possible to locate a portal from Mechanus to the second layer of Acheron.”

The crew perked up at that. Finbar clapped his hand together with a grin, “Now we’re talking.”

“Simply using a tuning fork to cast planeshift will not do, you will need to use the tuning fork to locate the opening between yourself and Thuldanin.”

VR-LA nodded at his words, fiddling with the item in question as he spoke, “Well, that solves one of our issues. But there's still the matter of locating the ship within Thuldanin once we have arrived there. No easy task.”

“Indeed. There are locate object spells but their range is troublingly small.”

“I wonder if there's a way to make an amplifier?” Dani seemed to be musing to herself, more focused than Maxim had seen her before.

“That was what I was going to ask,” VR-LA glanced over at her before speaking to Maxim once more, “If you know of any way to do so?”

“Innately I might be able to do so, but such abilities are limited to those who are born with talent in the arcane arts,” he paused to consider their options. He didn’t have any specific ideas, but he knew VR-LA was experienced in bending the energies of spells, and judging by how Dani had been muttering under her breath for the last minute, it certainly seemed she had thoughts aplenty. “It certainly would be possible. The rules of spells are bent often, whether the Weave allows it or not.”

He looked back at the crew as the genasi spoke, waving her hands about, little motes of fire sparking off her and getting worryingly close to his bookshelves, “Is it a situation where like, maybe we just need a bigger power source to bump the range up? Cause we fly around in a giant generator of magical energy, and if we could like, from the ship maybe if I divert some of the flow from the motive force generator maybe we could make like, an amplification effect or something.”

“Forgive me, you speak on matters in which I am no longer an expert. It seems you yourself are already more informed on the matter than I am.” To be honest with himself, he only had the vaguest idea of what a ‘motive force generator’ was. For all her rough edges, Dani was undeniably highly skilled in her field. “I would hesitate to give you bad information as a result.”

“Very well. Have you any experience with Thuldanin, personally or anecdotally? A coworker, a professional?” VR-LA asked.

“I've never been no, nor do I enjoy to make contact and alliance with those who align themselves with eternal battle.” Conflict, let alone outright war, was not something he would like to find himself associated with.

“Fair enough.”

Maxim’s disdain made itself clear in his tone, “They're foolhardy folk.”

“And in our caution, the final thing on our checklist is assessing whether or not we are prepared to enter at all in the state we are in now. There are things more powerful than us, and as evidenced by the encounter we had with the Githyanki in the City of Brass,” VR-LA seemed to become quieter and colder as he mentioned the Gith. His crew mirrored the shift, posture and expressions becoming closed off. Maxim didn’t know the nature of this encounter, whether it was a raiding party or an established outpost. Either way, their presence in such a populated local was concerning. The wizard continued, “They are not hard to find, surely entering the second layer of the Eternal Battlefield will attract unsavoury folk. I’m hesitant to say that maybe we will be okay as long as we retain the ability to planeshift out, it gives a quick exit. But we're still putting ourselves at risk.”

“Indeed, if your ship remains properly attuned to your tuning fork and has the prerequisite energy you should be able to leave hastily. But I confess, though I know little, I am certain getting where you need to be will be an uphill battle,” he said. Maxim understood the crew were well equipped and capable, but the exponential increase of danger from one layer to another was what concerned him. While they’d have no trouble making a quick escape, they’d be running somewhat of a gauntlet to try and complete their quest while there.

“Yes,” VR-LA said with the grim sound of scrapping metal.

A tense silence stretched for a moment. Kyana broke it, somehow managing to sound chipper despite the topic of conversation, “I think as long as we find the portal from here and we don't need to use our planeshift, so we can keep it in the back pocket to escape, we’ll probably be okay.”

VR-LA nodded, “I agree, that's what I was thinking as well.”

“It is a great boon to be able to travel directly from Thuldanin and not search for a portal from the first layer to the second,” he paused to recall what he had read of Acheron, wincing as he realised none of it was pleasant, “You avoid what I am told is a nightmare of cubes—”

The various words of assent he received told him they were well aware of this. While not surprised that they’d journeyed to the plane before, he found himself wondering how any of them had managed to stay alive thus far. Maxim was only receiving the barest slivers of information regarding their adventures, yet each one caused both his alarm and list of questions to grow.

“It's kinda cool,” Dani said, with a look that was somehow both manic and wistful.

He blinked slowly at her, entirely unsurprised but questioning how exactly VR-LA and her had become such close friends, “Perhaps you will be right at home in the second layer then.”

He received only a faint cackle in reply, the genasi’s hair and eyes flaring.

“I think convincing her to leave is gonna be the hardest part,” said Kyana.

VR-LA spoke in a tone somewhere between amused and resigned, “It will be a vacation for her.”

Maxim glanced back at Dani, who’d completely stopped following the conversation, soot smudged hands reaching out to fiddle with his orrery of the Planscape. In somewhat of a rush he spoke, “Touch nothing while you are here.”

More grumpy than sheepish, she reeled back her hand. Instead angling her head in what looked like increasingly uncomfortable positions to get a clearer view of its mechanics.

VR-LA awkwardly changed the subject, trying to ignore their exchange, “So, there’s still the matter of finding the Ad Astra once we’re in Thuldanin. But I sort of think inward—”

“—Some things are best to do in steps,” Finbar interrupted him, throwing an arm around the mechanite’s thin shoulders. “I say we get there first, and then to ask may be easier. After all, it is a ship not from this Planescape, it shouldn’t be that hard to find amongst endless scrap.”

Some of the tension in VR-LA’s posture eased, “No your right Finbar.”

Finbar paused for a moment, thinking back on what he’d said. Maxim couldn’t quite tell if the giantkin was joking when he continued, “Unless it’s all just spelljammers.”

Regardless, VR-LA nodded along, “In which case we're never leaving cause Dani will never let us.”

The genasi in question scoffed, “You guys can leave, I’ll just live there.”

“No your right Finbar. I have a tendency to think ahead without really considering the thing right in front of me. One step at a time, let us find Thuldanin,” VR-LA said, returning the conversation to the topic at hand. Maxim had noticed how the wizard tended to overthink things, it was a trait they shared. VR-LA glanced back up at him, “I don’t know if we have anything else to ask of you Maxim.”

It was at this time that Delphine, who had been listening to their conversation in silence, gave her input. Talk soon turned to how they may locate the Ad Astra with the scrapyard. His gears ticked with satisfaction at VR-LA’s decision to go with his plan. Maxim was glad to be of service in whatever way he could, but he pushed aside the foolish conclusions his mind jumped to regarding the choice to follow his advice over Delpine’s. From VR-LA’s perspective, it was a perfectly logical choice given the situation. Yet some part of Maxim couldn’t help but assign a secondary meaning to it. It was why he tried not to bother with emotions. There was no logic to them, and too often they proved to be finicky, arbitrary things. Far too confusing for his liking.

Eventually, it seemed that the group had reached a conclusion. VR-LA gave Dani the all clear to hardwire the new arcane intelligence, named Emi, into the ship. Maxim rejoined the conversation to explain how they might use the tuning fork in tandem with Mechanus’s magnetic obelisks to locate a portal. Between Dani and VR-LA he had little doubt they’d manage the feat, even if he’d admit to himself that he was less than certain on the method. He was slightly concerned at the thought of her tinkering with one of his home plane's integral systems. But how much damage could one person do? Glancing at the genasi, who’d been chuckling to herself at the notion, led him to not tempt fate by considering the question further.

The crew of the Per Aspera came to an agreement on the plan and prepared to take their leave. As was polite, he went to escort them to the door, but caught VR-LA’s wrist before he left the workshop. The wizard’s fans seemed to whirr a little louder, so he loosened his hold, concerned at the strange reaction. Perhaps he’d taken him by surprise?

“Good luck,” Maxim paused. Like all their previous farewells, this one was tainted by worry and looming danger. He thought of what he could say that would be of worth, searching for words neither too strong nor too hollow. Glancing back at the staff still resting on the workbench, he settled for a simple request, nerves to taut to handle gear grating vulnerability, “Return soon, your staff should be finished shortly.”

Despite the lack of any real worth his choice of words held, the wizard immediately brightened, eyes flaring with gold light. He straightened, excitement clear in the bright chime of his voice, “Hell, yes!”

Hand dropping from VR-LA’s wrist he nodded, amused and a little pleased by the reaction, “The shrink has aided greatly in the pursuit of this hobby.”

“Well, I’m glad that was helpful.” He gave a slight bow in farewell before calling back to his crew, “I can cast that to guys! Okay, let’s go.”

☆☆☆

It seemed Maxim handing VR-LA a tuning fork and him leaving on a dangerous quest was becoming somewhat of a trend, and yet again he found himself alone in his sanctum. In an effort to relieve his stress, Maxim began sorting through the various papers that were scattered across the room. It had been in disarray long enough, and restoring some vague semblance of order to the place would give him time to clear his mind. Once he had made a suitable dent in organising the mess, he’d return to the staff. He wanted to make sure it was done by VR-LA’s next visit. No doubt it would please the wizard to get it back. Despite it being Maxim’s creation and objectively his possession, he’d noticed how he’d taken to thinking of it as VR-LA’s. Its magics we’re certainly better suited to someone in his line of work, and he’d admit, it had been made and altered specifically with VR-LA in mind. It wasn’t a gift. Maxim didn’t do gifts. But it wasn’t quite the same self indulgent project it had originally been. Now it had purpose, and Maxim found that pleased him greatly.

He’d also like more time to converse. Given the somewhat intense topic of VR-LA’s surprise visit, he hadn’t had the chance to properly test whether or not VR-LA was amenable to their relationship properly transitioning into something more casual. The wizard had been too distracted to notice Maxim’s earlier hint. While he didn't think VR-LA would react negatively to the concept, that didn't stop the way it made his gears rattle and whirr. Even though he was far warmer in his demeanour than most people Maxim knew, he didn't want to assume anything. What if that's just how he acted and it wasn't indicative of any particular liking of him? VR-LA had said he enjoyed conversing with him but that didn't touch on whether he actually liked Maxim as a person or beyond their current arrangement. For all he knew, the wizard could actually prefer the more formal nature of their relationship. Perhaps finding the clear cut boundaries a reprieve from his chaotic family.

Maxim had to sit down at his desk, putting down the papers he’d been sorting through. When he first came to the conclusion that he’d finally try to make a start on befriending the other mechanite, he had no idea it would be so stressful. Nothing had even happened yet! 

Methodically he went through the process of calming his racing gears and checking his systems. The issue of his discordant mechanics seemed to have passed for the most part. Only occurring occasionally, usually when he found himself alone for too long. It was quite the relief, as now he could focus on the tick of Mechanus, letting his humming powercore align itself with its unchanging rhythm. Once again he reminded himself that there was little point in overthinking. All he could do was wait and watch how fate let the events play out. VR-LA was capable and determined enough to weather whatever Thuldanin threw at him, as were his crew. The more personal matters on his mind were irrelevant as of now, so he left them to be considered another day. For now, he abandoned trying to tidy the workshop, instead casting shrink. Resuming work on the staff would no doubt be more enjoyable.

Chapter Text

The Staff of the Clockwork Swarm rested on the workbench, its gold and pewter fittings reconnected. A slight hum was coming from the main hive section. To any onlooker it would seem complete, yet Maxim had been staring at it for sometime, his default stern expression now glowering. One hand was pressed against his chin, the other tapping the desk. His usually flawless gold plating was scratched in places, and there were small tears in his heavy charcoal robes.

The buzzing hum grew momentarily louder. Maxim took an involuntary step back, before chiding himself. They were bugs for Primus’ sake. Bugs! And he was a well practised sorcerer. He huffed at the thought, as that seemed to be just the problem. All his magic was useless against the hungry swarm, which sapped his spell energy and threatened to shatter his concentration on Shrink. He dreaded to think what would happen if it broke inside the staff. No doubt the whole item would be destroyed, likely far beyond any repair.

His gears twisted uncomfortably as he thought of explaining that to VR-LA. Not only would it be painfully embarrassing, but the wizard had been so excited about it being completed. Maxim may have tried to keep himself emotionally distant, but he had enough wherewithal to understand that he wouldn’t like seeing VR-LA upset, especially about something that was his fault. But beyond that, he’d put much of his time into this project, countless hours drawing schematics and puzzling out how to construct such complex arcanotech. A hiss of steam escaped him as he vented his growing frustration.

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Maxim stepped back from the staff. Perhaps if he left it for a while and returned with a better mindset he’d be able to find a solution. As of now, all he was achieving was further frustration. Maxim left the staff resting on the desk, its faint buzz cutting off as he shut the door to his workshop. There were other projects and research he could focus on for now. Not to mention some repairs, he thought, glancing down at his insect damaged plating and clothes.

☆☆☆

Maxim was elsewhere in his sanctum, paging through a book, when he heard the faint chime of the front door being unlocked. Few had such access to his sanctum, and fewer still would come without first notifying him. He felt his powercore hum and he let a little tension drain from his shoulders. It seemed that VR-LA had found success in Thuldanin after all. With long strides he made his way to the foyer, beginning to speak the moment he caught sight of bright silver and flickering blue flame from the corner of his eye.

“Ah, crew of the Per Aspera—” His voice died as he caught sight of only two figures, something heavy settling over his mechanics, “What dangers did you run into in Thuldanin?”

VR-LA gave an approximation of a half smile in response, making a negative gesture, “Many dangers, but rest assured none that took either Kyana or Finbar. They are away on a separate mission.”

“Ah, forgive me. It is not often to see you separate from each other, and well—” Maxim’s mind flashed back to recent memories of him pacing his sanctum and burying himself in work to avoid his thoughts. Militant legions and maddening bloodlust, great colliding cubes and a corroding aura. All the grisly ways in which VR-LA’s adventures could end. He continued, voice steady despite his turbulent thoughts, “—The legends speak for themselves of the eternal battlefield.”

Dani piped up, “Well, Kyana and Finbar are fine. But our fifth member has tragically perished in Thoodanim.”

Maxim gave her a slight squint, while VR-LA turned back to look at her. His gears whirred as he gestured questioningly, expression utterly baffled. 

“What did you say?” He asked, blinking rapidly.

“Indeed, pleasure as always Dani,” Maxim kept his blunt tone light, unable to help his bemusement at the scene. Turning back to VR-LA he asked, “How might I be of service to you?”

“Well, allow me to not let that comment go by, your concern is heartening,” rather than the usually intense inquisitive stare, VR-LA’s gaze had softened, as had his mechanical voice. “I’m afraid we’re here to request you expedite a bit of work that you’re currently engrossed in, and we’re here to offer our services to that end.”

“You’ve come for the staff?” Maxim said, waving the earlier comment aside, the warm spark of electricity in his chest going unacknowledged.

“I have, yes.”

“Might I ask, what has occurred to quicken the need for your arm back at your side?”

Dani abruptly interrupted, voice far too calm and blunt for what she was saying, “We’re gonna storm the Gith city that’s on the dead god in the middle of the Astral Sea, and figured we should have the big guns.”

VR-LA raised his hands to gesture for her to stop, before realising the pointlessness of the action, and instead gave a resigned nod, “Because my old crew is there, yes.”

Maxim found himself at a loss, his vocal unit stalling out. He glanced between the pair, eyes widening when he saw no signs of humour or deception. With a slightly flattering voice and slow nod he spoke, “Then indeed, it seems quite a lot has transpired in the few days since you have last visited me… Come, I make space in my study, you shall regale me with what’s happened.”

“Very well.”

Maxim led them into the workshop, doing his best to push aside his whirling gears and turbulent thoughts by listening to VR-LA speak. The wizard rushed through events, not pausing between sentences to let his vocal unit catch up. It seemed he was correct in his assumption that much had happened, and VR-LA seemed overwhelmed. Tense. The faint shaking of his hands and voice barely obscured by his hurried manner. Maxim gave him a slight frown while VR-LA’s attention was elsewhere. The way his eyes were distant with a faint black residue underneath, speech ever so slightly more mechanical, body hunched and shielding his chest, was familiar. They were the telltale signs of sadness, shock, and grief. All buried beneath the surface. But Maxim was far too well acquainted with the symptoms to miss them. Something stuttered in his chest, pistons shunting as VR-LA rambled.

“We successfully made our way to an obelisk and we found, uh, well we tapped into the resonance of Thuldanin, and then found a portal and met a very angry mechanite who was another mechanite. It took nine, ten hours of travel, but eventually Emi was able to find, to hone in— you haven’t met Emi have you? Oh there’s a lot here.”

“I’m not sure that we’ve been properly introduced, but you alluded to the change in your Docent.” Maxim raised a hand to get VR-LA to slow, “Please, spare no details.”

Maxim took his shoulder, leading him to the lounge area of his workshop and gently pushing the somewhat frazzled mechanite into a chair. Dani began her usual ritual of fiddling with the various contraptions around the room, and he did his best to ignore her. For the sake of his sanity if nothing else. He’d rather not think about what she was doing, and besides, Maxim likely couldn’t stop her. He doubted she’d actually break anything. Rather, he’d just find himself magicking away oil smudges once they’d left.

The discussion of Maxim’s theory regarding the finding of a portal to Thuldanin helped distract him from too deeply considering the crew’s alarming plans, and it seemed, also helped calm VR-LA. While his emotional turmoil wouldn’t have been obvious to anyone who was not so deeply familiar with signs as Maxim was, the shift in his demeanour as his attention turned fully to arcane theory was immediate. The usual intensity of his curious expression returned in full force. Eyes glowing bright and wide. He began to methodically run through the process, and Maxim felt his circuits spark with both relief and excitement that his supposition on the use of the tuning fork had merit. In truth he’d been working off nothing but vague theorising. VR-LA seemed happy enough to answer any and all of Maxim’s questions on the subject, and for the most part, they managed to stay on topic. A feat that surprised Maxim a little, rare as it was for something to hold his focus without something else catching it before he was done.

“I was exceedingly lucky in that instance, and then had some help notwithstanding, so unless—” Whatever VR-LA said next was obscured by the grating metal sound of a mock cough that accompanied his muttered words, “—I don’t know if it’s necessarily replicable.”

Frowning slightly, but unwilling to push on a topic the wizard evidently didn’t want to talk about, he sat back in his chair, rereading his notes. 

“Perhaps. If it requires more study I will have to seek someone out to replicate it,” he glanced back up at VR-LA, trying and failing to keep the faint hopefulness from his request, “Unless you yourself are looking for work? There would be goods to exchange for the continued testing of the use of tuning forks to find new portals between dimensions.”

“That does not sound unappealing, and if we’re talking strictly about Thuldanin, I’m sure Dani would like another reason to go,” VR-LA shook his head, dismissing his last point, “Dani doesn’t need another reason to go. She’ll go.”

Somewhat distantly, he heard Dani agree with the assessment, still trying to ignore the sounds of clinking metal and shifting papers as she poked around his workshop.

Maxim asked about the trials faced and secrets uncovered within Thuldanin, still diligently taking note of what VR-LA said. Some stories were about what he expected. Recounts of vicious battles one after the other, and the maddening bloodlust that risked overtaking them when they slew a creature. As VR-LA mentioned this, he rubbed his fingers over a small golden starburst on his torso that had not been there previously, while side-eying Dani. Maxim found himself in no way surprised by the implication, yet still his gears twisted sharply.

Beyond that, he was soon fascinated by the strange stone turning affliction VR-LA described occurring within the Fuge Sea. His pen stilled as he leant forward, listening attentively as the wizard jumped from that subject to Dani’s discovery on Styx proofing vessels.

“Curious… I know that such ships do exist, they often belong to Merrenoloths, but I was under the assumption that was an innate enchantment to the fiends inherent nature. I wonder if perhaps this is a separate feature all together, or a common secret they guard amongst themselves,” Maxim continued on, musing to himself on the possibilities inherent in such a discovery.

It was only after he caught VR-LA watching him, amusement tinging his expression, that he cut back to the subject at hand. Faceplate now heated. Waving away Maxim’s sheepishness, VR-LA began the end of his story.

“It turns out that it was not my first trip to the Ad Astra. There was nothing left technology wise that was salvageable, the only things left behind were evidence of the crew of the Ad Astra and the old crew of the Per Aspera.”

“Indeed, it is a shame that this stone curse so thoroughly afflicts everything in that realm. Otherwise, it might be possible to gauge the age of the ship, the exact date that these warforged emerged, or rather arrived. It would be of great interest to me, but I fear it is perhaps lost to time,” Maxim said with a slight sigh of steam.

“Yes, that was our assessment as well.”

The conversation began to shift. Maxim kept his eyes trained on the notes he’d taken, scribbling down random and generally irrelevant thoughts in some attempt to ignore the oncoming topic. Still, he had no way not to hear as VR-LA told him of how he’d re-pieced the memory of that fateful day where his life was destroyed. He could not stop the name Tu’narath from hitting him heavily in the heart. Like a bolt had been thrown into his inner workings, catching between turning gears and grinding against his systems, causing a faltering offset ticking. A painful discordance only recently forgotten.

VR-LA fell silent, his story over. For the first time in their conversations, the silence was harsh and heavy. The continuous tick of Mechanus counting each passing second. Beat by painful beat. Maxim’s own out of time mechanisms resound throughout his body. He stared at the wizard, all at once aware of the timer ticking down on his few hours remaining here. His time with Maxim. Their time together.

VR-LA’s life.

An end drawing closer. Its inevitable approach. A death sentence.

He stared at VR-LA, wide eyed and searching for a way out of this. A way to stop him. To keep him safe. To keep him alive. Anything he had that may sway the wizard from his course of action. Maxim’s gaze slipped to the staff. Maybe… maybe it could work. Maybe withholding it would convincing him? But he already knew that, if VR-LA asked, looked at him with those honey gold eyes, he wouldn’t be able to keep it from him. 

Maxim’s voice caught, words wavering yet weighty, “I confess to you, VR-LA, the staff is ultimately yours. Should we be able to finish it I see no problem re-exchanging it to you. But this goal you have set to achieve, the rescuing of your crew from Tu’narath, even with as powerful an item as this I fear it is folly, and I would not lightly send you marching to your— your grave.”

VR-LA paused to shift in his seat, gaze on the ground rather than Maxim. In the past, his fumbling attempts at adhering to the normal rules of socialisation had been endearing, but now it only added to the twisting sensation in Maxim’s chest. The casualness he spoke with was nothing but jarring.

“Full disclosure, I think that if I were to use the staff in Tu’narath it would be as a last resort. I think that we're all in agreement that we’re going to have to employ more subtle tactics in order to get in and abscond with my crew. The staff is in order to gain another piece of the puzzle. Someone who was there. Who we recently met or, in my case, re-met. And as far as pure combat goes, I’ll take all the help I can get. But rest assured Maxim, and once again your concern is endearing, we are putting thought into this.”

“I would expect no less from you. I do not think that you plan to barrel in like amateurs. But the method of which you speak entering, even if you are able to gain information, even if you are able to plan accordingly—” He stopped his stumbling sentence. In his head Maxim reiterated what he wanted, what he needed , to say over and over, but was unable to find the words. “As you speak flippantly of employing stealth and subterfuge to enter, that might very well be a path that may be taken. But the greatest thieves in the planescape, which if you would forgive me, I do not count you among…”

Maxim trailed off, gesturing helplessly, the implication of silence severing better than anything he could say.

“No, we're not very good at stealing things,” VR-LA said, chuckling mirthlessly.

With a sinking sensation, Maxim watched the wizard’s demeanour transition to the stiff shouldered and hard eyed look he knew from their first farewell. Conviction. A sharply honed and unbreakable resolve.

Admirable, remarkable, suicidal.

VR-LA’s next words came as no surprise. 

“You cannot talk me down from this, I’m afraid. So then the only course of help that you could give, in addition to you giving me my staff, would be anything else that could possibly aid us.”

Yet again, the air between them was full of nothing but tension and ticking. Much like VR-LA’s earlier, Maxim’s gaze fell to the floor, the heaviness in his chest transitioning into something no less painful but far less raw. From jagged metal to smooth stone. Refined, cold, and unmalleable.

VR-LA’s words snapped the silence, rushed and strained as they were, “Regardless, I am here for my staff. You’ve been at it for the better part of… a year? Surely it must be finished by now?”

Unfortunately for Maxim’s self esteem, he heard Dani’s scoffed muttering, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Uhh,” Maxim’s systems buffered, and he gave a few staticky coughs as he tried to school himself once more. The combination of his burning faceplate and wrenching systems did little to help him hide his rough voice, “Well I’m… about that. I have been employing this new spell delivered to myself by you in order to perfect and fine tune the arcane workings within the staff. However, I’ve run into a small problem. The insects that the staff creates, in my attempts to make them more magically charged, they have begun to resist and indeed in some cases… consume magic. Which has made my entering somewhat perilous. So yes, uh, the— So I do believe the problem should solve itself if the arcane program within the staff is repaired, and perhaps—”

Maxim shifted from his angled away position, removing a hand from his faceplate to snap his fingers. He had a problem to solve. Something to do. Something to take his attention away from the cold in his chest and heat behind his eyes.

“Perhaps the two of you are just what is required. The difficulty is that if I enter while under the effects of my own Shrink spell and lose concentration, the effects could be rather disastrous. For both myself and the staff. But since I am able to bend the arcane laws and cast a spell upon two willing beings at once, I could shrink the two of you. Thereby ensuring neither of you will lose concentration and be crushed by your return to normal size within the staff.”

VR-LA turned to Dani, “Well, what do you think?”

“Let’s smoke em out,” she said with a smirk, blue fire crackling to life between her palms.

“Very well Maxim—” As he was turning back, his gaze snapped to Dani, eyes wide and head tilted. “Wait what?”

“You know bees, they like, beekeepers use a lot of smoke stuff to control— I bet if we get in there and create a lot of smoke, problem solved!”

Given the jumbled and vague phrasing, Maxim didn’t have high hopes for her insect managing abilities. Yet given recent developments, perhaps he should not make himself the judge of that.

VR-LA squinted at her, “One, they’re metal. Two, they’re wasps.”

“Same difference.”

VR-LA watched her for a second more, the fire genasi’s face set in an unflinchingly nonchalant grin. “Okay…” He gave a sigh and shook his head at her before speaking to the sorcerer, “Very well, Maxim. We will debug my staff!”

Maxim felt the buzz of amusement at seeing the two converse strain against the creeping coldness in his chest. The slow, steady, yet ill timed beat of his powercore refused to flicker with warmth. But he nodded, voice as calm as he could make it.

“Very well.”

Chapter Text

Maxim pressed his palms together, feeling a low thrum of arcane energy reverberate out from somewhere in his chest and gather between them. Perfect fractals of amber light rippled in the air around his hands. He turned to VR-LA and Dani, both checking their gear. VR-LA quickly thumbed through his spellbook and tossed his scarf over his shoulders, while Dani’s hands fell to her holstered gun and Baronium Fluxuator. Their movements were nonchalant and seemingly subconscious. Well practised muscle memory. When they seemed finished, Maxim pulled his hands apart, letting the energy expand.

“When you are ready,” he said.

VR-LA glanced over at Dani, “You good Dani? We got this.”

She gave her assent with a grin that showed slightly pointed teeth and pushed her goggles down over her eyes.

At VR-LA’s signal, he brought his hands back together, letting the transmutative magic burst out, amplifying the effect with his innate power. It wasn’t unlike altering and recalibrating a machine, shifting the spell's proverbial cogs for a similar yet more powerful effect. For a moment, Maxim watched the amber gold light from his magic dance off VR-LA’s plating, perfectly fractals mirrored on bright chrome, before all at once it slammed into him. In less than a second, both Dani and VR-LA were compressed, their now tiny forms like specks on the stone floor of his workshop.

With exaggerated care, he knelt and offered out a hand to lift them. Dani felt like a bright hot spark on his palm, while VR-LA’s footsteps didn’t feel dissimilar to one of his mechanical bugs. Gently, he deposited them into the workbench. Once he was sure both were safely off his hand and out of danger of being pushed or crushed, he pulled away.

“The problem lies within the head of the staff. If you enter here,” he tapped the makeshift entry way he’d used previously. “Do hurry, the spell only lasts for one hour.”

There was a small commotion and the faint chiming of voices from the two tiny adventurers, but nothing Maxim stood a chance at discerning. Instead he just gave them a solemn nod that he hoped made sense in relation to whatever they were saying.

“You are too small for me to hear, so I merely assume you are agreeing with my assertion. Good luck.”

He watched as VR-LA gave him what he guessed might have been a thumbs up, before the pair wandered into the staff. The shiny thin form that was VR-LA disappearing into the dim interior.

☆☆☆

Maxim stared at the brass cylinder, its fine details and pewter trimmings catching the light. But he wasn’t admiring his handiwork, he was hardly even thinking of it. Rather, he gazed into the dark entryway VR-LA had used. A small silvery speck, like a little star, swallowed by the gloom. He tried not to dwell on why his mind chose that specific metaphor, nor the heaviness pressing in on his chest. The fate awaiting VR-LA when he left Maxim’s sanctum was not something he should think too hard on.

Tu’narath, home of the Githyanki and seat of the Lich Queen Vlaakith. If they were lucky, VR-LA and his crew would be simply executed. Cut down with efficient brutality. But if they were unlucky…

The mere thought made something in his gut catch and twist out of place, a queasy feeling washing over him. Perhaps he would end up imprisoned alongside his crew, forced to undergo whatever horrors they too had faced. Maybe the Gith would kill him, slowly. Carving him up piece by piece. Until they finally let the life slowly bleed out of his broken body. Or, he could be taken before the Queen for his insolence. His soul to be consumed by the hungry lich. Burned away to fuel another day of her undead reign.

With a harsh scrap of wood on stone tile, Maxim stood, chair nearly clattering to the floor. His hands shook as he strode away, knees nearly buckling. He leaned against a nearby table to steady himself. With a long low hiss of steam and a strangled sound of groaning metal, he pressed his palms hard against the wood, trying to ground himself with the contact. The tick of Mechanus seemed to echo louder than usual, only emphasising the off beat stammer of his powercore that worsened by the second.

For a moment he could almost think he was somewhere else, in another time, worrying over the fate of another person. The image of a different dead body, one not made of VR-LA’s bright chrome, hazily projected in his mind. Broken and bloody, with a gaze not dissimilar to VR-LA’s, made of steel and hope. A soft plip broke the pounding tick reverberating through his head, and he opened his eyes, not even realising he’d screwed them tightly shut.

There was a single black droplet marring the wood.

Maxim didn’t move as he felt something slightly warm run down his face, dropping to fall beside the other tear. For a few moments, he stayed locked in place. It was all he could do to stop his systems from breaking down completely. Firmly and methodically, he pushed down the tears and need to throw something at a wall, forcing the unwanted emotions back into their boxes. It left him with heaviness in his chest and shaking like his framework was trying to break through his plating. But it was a more manageable ache.

With a small gesture, the dark tracks streaking his face vanished with a fizzle, as did the droplets on the desk. Expression carefully blank, he readjusted his chair and took a seat. He let the echoing tick of Mechanus wash over him entirely, despite the slight discomfort. Its unflinching and unfeeling perfection seeped into his being. Soon, everything was muffled beneath a blanket of static, even the ever present ache somewhat dulled by the balm of mechanical apathy.

Maxim returned his gaze to the staff, white eyes dim and shoulders slumped. He already knew how this story was going to go. How it would end. How everything would go wrong. And he knew far too well to not play a part in it ever again.

☆☆☆

There was a hum of magic in the air, a faint sparking sensation briefly dancing over Maxim’s plating. It was a prickle of static electricity, like the anticipatory hum of energy a moment before a lightning strike. The otherwise alarming sensation was familiar to Maxim, having been present whenever he received a sending from VR-LA. Frowning slightly he looked for the source. It had only been a few minutes, were they done already? Had something happened? A small flash of blue light caught the corner of his eye, and he saw two small forms materialise on the floor. 

Maxim released the shrink spell, feeling the magic dissipate from the pair. With a groan of metal they returned to normal size. Both adventurers were a little worse for wear, small scratches marring VR-LA’s chrome and a few smouldering drops of blood streaking the side of Dani’s face. But they seemed unbothered, and if he were to guess by the gentle humming coming from the staff, they had succeeded.

He rose from his seat, starting to step toward VR-LA, circuits flaring at the sight of oil begging to trickle from some of the deeper grooves. But he stopped, planting both feet firmly in place and turning his gaze elsewhere. It briefly fell on Dani, who raised a brow with unmistakable judgement. So instead, he turned back to the staff, making a final and rather unnecessary check of the exterior.

“That was unexpectedly fast,” he said, still avoiding looking at either of them.

He heard Dani scoff, muting under her breath, “Yeah, it’s easy when you know what you’re doing.”

If it weren’t for the hollowness in his chest he may have glowered at her, but rather he just gave a vague hum before he spoke, “My apologies. I have put much work into it, but it is far from my domain of expertise.”

“It looked like you were having fun with it, it’s okay.” 

Dwelling on his soft tone would only make things harder than they already were, so Maxim refused to acknowledge the warm tinge of affection and amusement in VR-LA’s voice.

He retracted the staff, turning it slowly in his hand before offering it to VR-LA, hoping his hesitation didn’t show, “I believe this is yours.”

The wizard’s eyes were bright as he took it, circuits audibly humming. For a moment Maxim felt their fingers clink against each other, and he kept his gaze resolutely trained in the ground rather than letting his eyes trace the gold lines weaving across VR-LA’s hands. 

That static buzz Maxim was now firmly associating with VR-LA’s magic washed over him again, and he watched as small runic circles belonging to the identify spell flickered into existence around the staff. Still, he took care in explaining its new abilities to VR-LA. The wizard listened eagerly, head tilted and teetering forward in the familiar way that made Maxim’s powercore buzz despite his best efforts. The wizard gleefully activated the staff, plating folding in on itself until he was a small silvery spider on the floor. His eyes glowed even brighter as he returned to normal, chattering with Dani excitedly. Maxim firmly rebuffed the sparking warmth gathering in his powercore when the expression turned to him, the gold light of VR-LA’s eyes shining in the upturned v they took when he was particularly happy.

An expression he found entirely unsuited to the current situation.

After a small while of experimentation, the staff was returned to its place at VR-LA’s side, the metallic cylinder hanging next to his spellbook. Sensing the meeting was drawing to a close, Maxim busied himself with aimlessly tidying the desk, half listening as VR-LA cast sending to the other half of his crew.

“All finished here. Hope you’re okay. We’ll use the tuning fork. Say hi to Enoch for us!”

A few beats of silence passed before Dani chimed in, “How they doing VR-LA?”

VR-LA’s voice was a little shaky as he spoke, and Maxim glanced up to see his expression had turn grave, “Uhh, sorry for the quick exit Maxim. I think they avoided some kind of catastrophe, but even so we should robably be there to collect them.”

He merely nodded, making his way to the door and ignoring the twisting of his mechanics that was leaving him slightly queasy.

“Hm, that doesn't sound good,” muttered Dani.

“No. We're gonna need more diamonds,” VR-LA said, before turning his attention to Maxim as they made their way to the exit, “Uh, thank you very much Maxim. I will be back, if for no other reason than just to share the rest of what I have learned in the last… however long I have been on this particular journey.”

“Very well.” Maxim paused as he reached the door, hand hovering to open it, but instead he turned to face VR-LA, “Before you go, we have parted on such terms once in the past, I will not regale you with my words from then as I do not think they would fall on any less deaf ears than they would now. But you had ventured to rescue an ally before. You achieved it though it seemed impossible. Before you leave may I simply ask; how many more times do you think you may bend the odds in your favour? How long before somewhere the bill comes due, whether it is for you or for someone else?”

Though Maxim was looking past VR-LA rather than his face, he could feel the wizard’s gaze prickling against his plating, not unlike the static sensation of his magic. When he eventually spoke his voice was soft, yet held an increasingly familiar resolve. Heavy and unyielding, like tempered adamantine.

“I don't bend the odds without direction, I bend the odds so what comes due will come to me only. I will keep doing this for as long as I can and for as long as the gods may let me,” there was a pause before VR-LA spoke again, and Maxim watched from the corner of his eye as his expression soften from the hard lines of determination to a gentle sadness, “I know that's not what you wanted to hear.”

“As long as the gods may let you indeed,” he let out a low sigh of steam, lifting his gaze to stare VR-LA in the eye, hoping the slight crackle of static in his voice wasn’t noticeable, “I knew a man of your conviction once. He was a good friend of mine. The universe came to claim its bill on him, and now I have no friends.”

There was a weight to the air, like tension on a bowstring pulled too taut. The determination and perhaps almost guilty look and VR-LA’s face snapped from something cold but soft to sharp and burning. The usual calmness that came with VR-LA’s conviction replaced by a quiet but undeniable fierceness that showed in the orange gold flare of his eyes and slight sharpening of his expression.  There was no threat to it, if anything Maxim may have called it protectiveness, but for a moment he found himself nearly recoiling from the intensity.

VR-LA’s voice remained level, but he spoke slower, as if to place more weight on the words he said, “That may be your perception. Do not be mistaken though, Maxim. The care I show for Kyana and my crew, and Dani and Finbar, I extend to you as well. If I were to come and find you taken from your home, you would see that conviction again. Believe it or don’t.”

There was a wrench in his chest as a gear caught, causing a domino effect of creaking, scrapping gears. He closed his eyes for a long moment in some vain attempt to escape the look VR-LA was giving him, but still he felt it, like white hot electricity arcing across his plating. 

He could believe it. He did believe it.

And that was the problem.

Maxim opened his eyes slowly, pale dim white meeting sunshine gold. There was no doubt to be had about whether or not VR-LA saw him as a friend, and even on Maxim's end, he’d called the wizard as such before. For his friends, it seemed VR-LA would do just about anything. Face Illithid at a moments notice, scour through the brutal scrapyard of Thuldanin, and march unflinchingly to his own doom in Tu’narath. He was all too willing to die for his friends. But live for them?

It was clear what VR-LA’s friendship entailed, and once Maxim may have accepted that, been okay with that. Maybe once he would have even admired that. But he’d learned that lesson long ago.

He stared at VR-LA a moment longer, searching his face for anything that may tell him he was wrong. A shred of doubt, a flicker of fear, a single moment where Maxim may be able to find the barest bit of self preservation.

But there was nothing. Not even a second where his stare broke. Maxim almost wanted to let out a scoff. The first person he thought he could care for in fourteen god forsaken years and here he was, willing to offer Maxim everything he didn’t want, and withholding the only thing he would truly desired of him. One would think finding someone willing to stay alive wouldn’t be a hard task, but again and again it proved impossible.

Perhaps he had a type, Maxim mused darkly, bright eyed do-gooders with too much faith and too little care for the consequences of their actions.

But Maxim didn’t let out that dry and heartless laugh. Rather, he felt a dull sorrow pass over him. A steady ache almost comforting in its familiarity. Any hurt or sadness that may have been showing abruptly vanished from his face and posture. He drew himself taller, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin, using his stature to put distance, however superficial, between him and VR-LA.

The faint static in his earlier tone vanished, replaced by the blunt harshness of grinding metal, “I do not take you for a fool VR-LA, so do not speak like one. Should you return from your journeys, I expect there is still much business we may conduct together”

“And so we shall,” with a nod, VR-LA turned on his heel, passing beyond the uncrossable line of Maxim’s door. “Alright Dani, let's go. Make sure the others haven't gotten into trouble.”

Maxim’s gaze followed him as he began to walk away, an uncomfortable weight settling on his chest. A sharp cough made him turn with a start, and he found Dani standing a little behind him, giving him a wide eyed stare, “Uhh, hi! Yeah, I’m here too.”

She scurried past him, and his vocal unit crackled as he tried to decide what to say to her. She didn’t glance at him as she left, muttering something about being an idiot he figured was likely directed at him and VR-LA. He gave up on trying to find the words, giving her a slight nod as she left.

The door shut with a metallic thud, the lock clicking loudly as it reset. The sight of VR-LA’s retreating form, posture too relaxed for someone about to sail toward his death, was gone. Maxim stayed there staring blankly, his own hazy reflection visible in the door’s brassy sheen. The sudden quiet seemed to seep into his being, the thrumming sound of magic coming from the walls in no way filling the emptiness. A small flicker of movement caught his eye, and he refocused his unseeing gaze on his own reflection, watching a thin streak of oil he hadn't even noticed run from the corner of his eye.

The sound of the tear hitting the cold metal floor was far too loud.

He made no effort to wipe them away this time, simply turning and ascending the stairs to his demiplane. Running from the sight of his front door. There was a blurring static building in his head, its buzz trying to drown out the shuddering of his gears and filling him with a foggy malaise. He swayed slightly as he reached the top, but better an apathetic haze than sorrow. Better to give himself over to emptiness than to go drowning himself in grief.

Distantly, he could still hear the ambience of Mechanus. Its endless inescapable ticking, resounding within the depths of Maxim’s being and surrounding him always.

Tick

Tick

Tick

The once comforting noise now nothing but a reminder. A countdown. To a moment he had hoped never to face again.

Chapter Text

The ticking gears and tolling bells of Mechanus counted down the hours. Then the days. Then the weeks. Long and empty stretches of time which Maxim did his best to fill with work and study. He had no visitors, nor did he want any. There was a fragility to his current state, like the slightest upset may send his carefully calibrated mechanics cascading into a shuddering mess of twisted metal. He didn’t trust himself not to break mid conversation.

Alone, with nothing to worry about but himself and whatever project caught his attention that day, he could cope. It was tense and unpleasant, but manageable in the same way having a bee’s nest in one’s attic was. If it was avoided and ignored, if one took care not to poke at it, then it was nothing but an inconvenient and occasionally troublesome housemate. Just a low irritating buzz deep within his chest that occasionally left him nursing a nasty sting when he wasn’t careful. But it was muffled by well built walls and locked behind an old unopened door in the back of his mind.

However, he’d made the mistake of poking at it, and was now facing the consequences. Stupid, really. For all he wanted VR-LA it was clear from the start it would never work out. Not the way he needed it to. He should have known when he’d made his stance on entropy clear. He should have known the moment he caught a glimpse of that familiar conviction, fire in his eyes and ice in his tone. He should have known when VR-LA asked him of gods, asked him of destiny, and asked him of bargains no mortal should ever make.

Maxim had been deceiving himself. Pulling the wool over his own eyes in some vain attempt to stave off the inevitable. 

He knew why. It wasn't hard for him to realise, and in the long lonely hours, when Mechanus grew dark and should have been resting, he found himself turning their time together over in his mind. Finding all those little moments where he should have known better and everything that made him push forward regardless. It was in the way VR-LA’s gears audibly whirred with excitement when he spoke of something he loved and how he would lean forward and listen eagerly to every one of Maxim’s tangents, no matter how niche. His quiet intensity which seemed to wash away the loneliness that clogged his mechanics, letting everything run smoothly for the first time in over a decade. It was because of pretty lighting scars and bright gold eyes that he found hard look away from, and weighed heavy on his mind when they were gone.

But most damning of all, was how the wizard always made something sparking and warm rush through his circuitry whenever he was near. How Maxim's powercore would stutter if VR-LA leaned too close and how he found his gaze always following him as he moved through the room. The way the discordant rhythm of his fraught mechanics seemed to miraculously fix itself the moment VR-LA walked through his door.

Looking back, he could see the same feeling in VR-LA’s whirring fans whenever Maxim caught his arm or brushed past him, or when the tension and nerves in his posture would slowly fade throughout his visits. It left Maxim with a weight pressing down on his chest and heat welling behind his eyes. It was just so perfect.

Almost. Almost perfect.

More than once he’d gone to work on the staff, simply to feel the reassurance of its weight in his hands, the promise that one way or another VR-LA had a reason to make sure he came back. But its place on the work table was glaringly empty. With Docent also gone, there were little to no reminders of the wizard to be seen. Which was for the best, he thought. The sooner it was left behind him the sooner he’d stop feeling like… well… the sooner he'd stop feeling at all.

Nearly three weeks had passed, and there was no sign of VR-LA. That in itself wasn’t strange. He was never the best at staying in contact and he’d been gone far longer before. But now there was a certainty to it. Maxim always thought the nearly three years of not knowing VR-LA’s whereabouts was as bad as it would ever get. Always worriedly wondering what might have happened, where he might have gone. But now there were no ‘what ifs’ or ‘perhapses’ to hide behind. To delude himself with. He knew exactly where VR-LA had gone, where he likely still was.

Mechanus’s clockwork ticked ever onwards, but Maxim had the sinking feeling that somewhere out there, lying still in the depths of dead god’s chest, VR-LA’s had stopped.

The pulsing of his powercore reverberated low and harsh against the inside of his plating. At some point he’d taken to simply avoiding thinking about the matter, throwing himself into work at the barest hint of VR-LA crossing his mind. He’d like to say it worked, that his forceful repression had successfully muted any further feeling on the matter. But it remained, a weight like a twisted hunk of metal lodged in his chest.

☆☆☆

Maxim had locked himself away in his demiplane, his workshop now haunted by feelings he’d rather forget. Idly, he paged through his journals, searching for some old notes on a few tomes missing from his collection that he hadn’t yet gotten around to collecting. That was when something rough brushed past his hand, and he heard the gentle sound of parchment falling to the floor. He froze, well aware of what it was even before he checked. Slowly and with great care, he lifted the wasp blueprint from the floor, brushing off nonexistent dust. Maxim traced the lines with his fingertips, the faint indentation of spellwork still tangible. In the corner, the image was signed in a familiar, too perfect hand. For a long moment he hesitated on whether to return it to its place in his journal or rid himself of the reminder.

With a dull thud, he replaced the book on his shelf, blueprint again pressed between its pages. He could cope with it remaining in his sanctum. Just one memento. Of a VR-LA long dead before he ever even reappeared at Maxim’s door. It's not like he had anything else left of him.

Maxim was just moving to find somewhere else in his demiplane to work, some other project to pick up before he let himself linger on the image, when the distant thunk of his door unlocking sounded from below. Maxim couldn’t tell if the sudden jolt in his chest was dread or joy. Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe it was just grief. Eitherway, he found himself rooted to the spot as he heard a single pair of footsteps sound against the floor of his foyer, the door swinging closed once more.

Whoever it was didn’t call out, nor could Maxim hear them make a move to head toward his workshop as VR-LA was usually prone to. It was just quiet, and he slowly turned to face the stairs down to the foyer. It took effort to lift his feet and reach the top of the landing. He stared down with trepidation at the gold light and Fibonacci spiral staircase. Footfalls making heavy metallic clanks as he made his way down, Maxim closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

He didn’t look up at his guest until he reached the bottom of the stairs, even then, shifting his gaze to look at the figure felt like he was fighting against gravity.

Bright, silvery white chrome and robes of midnight blue. Distantly, he noted that they were new, the long flowing sleeves and gold trim markedly different from the simpler ones he wore on his last visit. There was silence as Maxim looked over his figure. VR-LA came with no crew, but Maxim saw no sadness in his face. He was, however, fidgeting and made eye contact hesitantly, shifting in place and turning over an envelope in his hands. Maxim felt a sinking sensation as he saw the star shaped amulet hanging beside his spellbook. The symbol of Mystra. Bargaining with gods indeed, he thought, suppressing a hiss of steam.

Eventually, he mustered the energy to speak, doing his best to sound calm and unbothered despite the staccato rhythm of his powercore, “VR-LA, to what do I owe the surprise?”

“Hello, Maxim,” VR-LA’s voice was its normal gentle tone, but he continued to fidget with the letter he held, “I would like first to let you know that your staff worked wonderfully and I am very appreciative of the upgrades that you had installed in it. Secondly, I am glad to inform you that the mission I had embarked on with the rest of the Per Aspera proved successful, and most of the old crew of the Per Aspera is alive and well, and a good portion of that is thanks to you.”

Maxim waved away the comment with a clink of his wrist joint, ignoring the way some of the weight resting on his chest lifted. 

“You flatter me, it is not my staff but yours. That transaction is complete. I am glad I was able to aid you in your endeavour however. I am to assume that even though you are accompanied by none of your kinsmen, all are well?”

“They are, yes. They are out doing odd jobs and errands for a—” VR-LA gave a dry huff of laughter, “—this is kind of sad to say, an uncharacteristically happy occasion.”

With that he held out the envelope, revealing the perfect white parchment and lilac wax seal, stamped with stars. Frowning with equal part confusion and curiosity, he broke the seal, removing the neatly folded parchment inside. Written on it in VR-LA’s perfect penmanship, was an invitation.

Join us to
Celebrate the Wedding of
Finbar Broussard de Chasse
&
Elyse Marduun

It then went on to list the date and location, which was a little under a week from now and somewhere in Sigil. Maxim tilted his head, a brief spark of surprise zapping through his circuits. He supposed Finbar did seem the most likely to settle down, given his more steady nature. As he read he glanced up at VR-LA, wondering quietly to himself what it would take for him to ever do the same. If such a thing even existed. He sighed, for if it did he certainly didn’t know what it was.

He tucked the paper back into its envelope, taking care not to damage it, before speaking to VR-LA, tone more pointed than was perhaps necessary, “Uncharacteristic indeed. It is rare that an adventurer is able to voluntarily, and peacefully, leave the life behind for something greater. My congratulations are extended to Finbar and this Elyse. I hope they are very happy, unfortunately I will not be able to attend.”

“I figured as much. The invitation was more a symbolic gesture, an official invitation, quite literally. I do have another gift for you though,” VR-LA rooted around in a side pocket, fishing out something smooth and shiny, “It's not a perfect fix. But, if you would like at all to be in some way, shape, or form, present at the ceremony, we can communicate via these.”

VR-LA offered it to Maxim, who took care to avoid accidentally touching his hands. It was a stone, a rounded disc that fit neatly in his palm and was made of an opaque dark blue crystal. As he turned it in the light, it glimmered as though shot through with veins of stars. VR-LA waved a matching stone in his hand, his a shining bronze gold.

Sending Stones.

Maxim felt the weight that had been lifting slam back into him as he glanced between the stone and VR-LA’s hopeful expression. There was a pang of guilt, and he shifted in place as he tried to find a way to broach the subject VR-LA clearly hadn’t caught onto in their last interaction.

“Your flattery extends beyond what is necessary. I am appreciative of the gesture here, but know that the lengths to which you go are… Well, they are not required of you.”

“No, I— I figured not as much. But, it is what I wish to do… as a friend.”

Maxim found himself fighting down a grimace. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, the light from overhead over exposing the receptor’s at the back of his eyes. This really couldn’t be made any harder could it. He let out the pressure building in his gaskets with a sigh.

“I feel it pertinent to point out that, before any misunderstanding is made, I am aware that you have changed in these last weeks,” Maxim glanced down at the medallion VR-LA wore, his gold laced fingers tracing over it as though seeking comfort, “You asked me once what I considered of those I once spoke of as God Botherers. I told you that I thought the greatest of them were not chosen but born with destiny. It seems to be that perhaps you are one of those few. If that is the case, and this road is set for you to be taken whether you choose or not, then it is a road I will not follow down again.”

The brightness in VR-LA’s eyes dimmed, honey gold turning a dull amber. There was a weight to the silence that fell, pressing in on Maxim’s chest and making him want to turn away so he didn’t have to watch the sad confusion spread across his face. VR-LA gave a slow nod, and Maxim found it hard to ignore how the upset expression made his gears wrench.

“I suppose then, just to clear up any confusion, am I— Am I to understand that I cannot avail of your services any more?” He said, voice quiet and blurred by static.

Maxim made a hurried negative gesture, his circuits flaring with alarm at the thought of VR-LA leaving him for good.

“Certainly not. I would be happy to assist you with any services you may require in the future. If you wish to avail of my friendship,” Maxim twisted the stone in his hands, “or more, then I have fear that that is now an incompatible future.”

I see,” VR-LA paused to consider him, head tilted and wearing an uncomfortably blank expression, “Thank you for your honesty.”

“I do not say this to sadden you.”

“No, I— I know you don’t, but I thank you for your honesty. I will be sure to avail you of your services in the future and…” the sound of VR-LA’s systems buffering as he tried to find his words was audible even to Maxim, “If this is truly what you wish, then I will also be sure to withhold my friendship. It will take some time, relationships are two-sided.”

Maxim frowned. The tone of VR-LA's last few words felt strangely pointed, and he found himself looking away at the thought VR-LA may have come to much the same conclusion as him when it came to the nebulous nature of their relationship. But he was hardly incorrect.

“It is far from what I wish. It is only what I perceive as necessary,” he said with a solemn nod, his powercore fizzling mutely.

“I thank you for indulging me with this then.”

With a stiff bow, VR-LA turned on his heel. Each step he took echoed loudly in the metal room, and Maxim pushed down urge to go after him. To catch his arm and say something, anything, that may give the mechanite reason to change his mind. To stay.

The words, choked in static, slipped from him before he had the chance to stop them, “Could I ever convince you otherwise? That perhaps the path you walk is one you should reconsider.”

VR-LA kept walking, hand reaching for the door, “If I was born into it I’m not sure what else I could do. But, even if I wasn’t—“

“You could try.”

VR-LA stopped, the steady tap on his feet against the metal floor falling silent. He turned his head in Maxim’s direction. Not enough to look him in the eye, barely enough to see any part of his face. But the acknowledgement was clear, as was who the gentle scoff was directed at.

“You of all people, asking for change,” VR-LA mused with a quiet consideration bordering on amusement.

The irony wasn’t lost on him, but it stung all the same. A memory made hazy and dark by tears flashed through his mind. Silver plate armour and a voice like a ringing bell. Not too dissimilar to VR-LA’s chrome plating and chiming mechanical tone. He stood near the threshold of the sanctum, paused on the edge of safety for the barest of seconds. A brink he could not be pulled back from. A situation familiar in its utter futility.

Maxim’s gaze slipped to the floor, and his voice was low and heavy, “I saw those unable to change accept their fates gladly, despite the pain it caused. I would never forgive myself if I did not at least attempt to see it through differently.”

VR-LA cocked his head to the side, a silence filled with distant ticking hanging in the air once more. With a hum, he turned away and opened the door, taking a step into the ambient light of Mechanus. The warm glow cast his plating in shades of white gold and made the stars on his robe glimmer as he moved. When he spoke, it was with a steadiness Maxim had become well accustomed to, the same tone of certainty he employed when he left to face horrors unknown. One that he had failed to argue against once, and would surely fail again.

“I understand, and I am sorry for any pain I might have unearthed for you. But, you have mentioned that it was surprising to see me change. And I agree that when we had first met and even before, availing of the services of a god was not something I had intended on doing at all. Perhaps fate is not the only thing one can strive to rebel against. The nature of one’s being can change. The circumstances of one's situation can be recontextualised. Old painful memories always have a chance to be supplanted with better ones. I learned that the hard way. It is my wish that perhaps that journey for you will not be as painful.”

The gears in Maxim’s head stuttered as he possessed the words. VR-LA’s hand slipped from where it had been resting on the door frame, and he stepped entirely into the light beyond it. For all of his worry and despair at the wizard’s path, chosen or not, the words struck a chord. They carried a weight and absolution painful in its familiarity. For the briefest second Maxim found himself questioning his own resolve, a long unheard voice far more fluid but no less convicted echoing the sentiment in his mind. But he shook his head to clear it. It was evident VR-LA had no intention of changing, and neither did Maxim. No one ever did. For a moment he remained silent. What else was there to say? If there was nothing left either of them could do for the other than what else could be done but hope. Hope that maybe, despite their diverging paths, all would end well. He nearly laughed at the thought, a foolhardy and vain wish. But still, Maxim inclined his head to VR-LA, even though it couldn’t be seen.

“Then let us both hope for a better future for the other,” he called.

Still not turning to face him, VR-LA gave a mock salute, sending stone in hand and sounding far too chipper given the conversation, “I hope to hear from you.”

“You shall.”

With that, the door swung closed, a dull metallic thud echoing briefly, until yet again Maxim was left staring at his front door. Alone in the quiet. With a sigh, he returned to his demiplane, more than a little fed up at staring at the circular door to what felt more like a particularly pleasant prison with each passing day. He had the invitation and sending stone in hand, and before he thought better of it, he tucked the invitation into the pages of his journal alongside the wasp blueprint. After carefully replacing the book on the shelf, Maxim glanced down at the sending stone. It was smooth and heavy. Running his fingers across its surface made his plating tingle, like little pinpricks of warmth we’re dancing across it. It was relatively flat, and easy enough to slip into the interior pocket of his coat.

He’d leave it on the shelf in his workshop the next time he went there, Maxim told himself. Its placement against his chest, where the heart of a human would sit, did not have to mean anything. It was merely convenient for the time being. And if, despite the way its weight served as yet another unwarranted remainder, the sparking warmth he felt radiating across his chest was comforting, then that was something he didn’t need to consider for now. He paid no mind to how it eased the leaden feeling in his mechanics. If the past years of solitude had taught him anything, it was that he was very good at lying to himself.

Chapter Text

Maxim did not, in fact, leave the sending stone in his workshop. He told himself that he needed to keep it close in case VR-LA called. It would be unprofessional and inconvenient for both of them to constantly have communications be missed. So, he kept it close, either tucked into his coat pocket or resting next to him on a nearby surface. 

Currently, it sat on a low table in his demiplane, next to the armchair he’d been sitting in for some time. One hour, fourteen minutes, and thirty two seconds, to be exact. In fairness, he had gotten ready rather early to be sure to avoid any potential weirdness in the aligning of planar timezones. But if Maxim was correct, which provided his perfect internal clock hadn’t failed him, he knew he was, then in just a few minutes he should be receiving a call from VR-LA. For the first time in many, many years, he was to “attend” a social event. A wedding no less. Which, if it weren’t at the bequest of VR-LA, he wouldn’t really have even thought to bother. But the wizard had asked him, and although they were naught but colleagues, Maxim would at least like to have one memory of VR-LA untainted by looming danger or disaster. 

The thought of hearing his voice again sent a mix of sinking dread and sparking anticipation through him. It left his systems faintly groaning and humming, sending conflicting signals through his wiring and rattling the gears in his head.

He shifted in his chair, looking around the room for a distraction. Tugging idly at the sleeve of his usual robe, Maxim’s gaze locked on the inactive stone, growing lost in its swirling starry pattern and his own thoughts. He’d briefly considered changing into something nicer for the upcoming occasion, but there was hardly any point to it beyond symbolism. It was only a call, no one on the other end had any way to know, nor any care, for what he would be wearing. As it was, his usual dress was quite formal, so it fit the occasion well enough. The part of him that thought to try match VR-LA’s usual midnight and sky blues was firmly refuted, and not considered any further.

His stream of consciousness was interrupted as the stone flashed with light, the little constellations shining bright and the faint impression of drifting mist rippling beneath its surface. As he picked up the stone, turning it in his hand, he noted that it almost appeared like a shard of the Astral Sea. A little window into an infinite starscape. There was that warm sensation which spread across his fingers where he touched it, followed by a slight tremor as VR-LA’s voice came through.

“Hello! It’s VR-LA, of course. Uh, just doing the final touch ups at the moment, still have a few minutes before the ceremony, I just wanted to check in first.”

His speech was a little rushed, and Maxim could hear the faint clinking of metal and rustling fabric as he was busying himself.

“Greetings, VR-LA. There is not much to do in terms of preparing on my end, so I am situated well enough to listen,” he paused, searching for words suited to an associate. “I hope all goes well, and though I said it before, my congratulations to Finbar and Elyse.”

Finbar called out, sounding somewhat quiet due to his distance from the stone, “Thanks Max! And thanks for coming. Or… well, listening? I don't really know what to call this.”

Maxim began to let out a sigh at the shortened version of his name, but found himself holding it back when VR-LA gave a quiet wince.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered.

“It’s… it’s fine, don’t let it worry you,” he said, before raising his voice so Finbar could hear it, “There is no need for any thanks, but you’re welcome all the same.

The firbolg made a reply that he couldn’t quite pick up, but the exchange seemed final enough. Assumably, he returned to making his final checks, as it seemed VR-LA also was, guessing from the quiet muttering and rustling fabric.

He seemed distracted, but the silence felt awkward in a way Maxim wasn’t used to, and despite his better judgement he broke it, “If you don’t mind the distraction or me asking, what are you doing? What does— what does everything look like?”

There was a pause, and the sounds of shifting fell silent. For a moment Maxim tensed, wondering if he had misspoke, overstepped the bounds he himself had put in place. But VR-LA gave a hum, continuing on with his task, and began to speak.

“Well, I’m inside the groom’s tent right now, I’ll describe the outside when we get to that. But for the moment I’m not doing anything exciting, just trying to do up my cufflinks. They’re a bit, uh, fiddly.”

For a foolish moment, Maxim thought to offer his help, before remembering that he was of course on an entirely different plane of existence. Instead, he listened in silence as VR-LA fussed, shifting his hand uselessly, before the wizard thanked someone by the name of Dill for the assistance.

He frowned, “Dill? I don’t believe I’ve heard of them before. Is that a friend of yours and Finbar’s?”

“Uh, yes, I suppose so. She’s one of Finbar’s pixies. He has a little swarm of them that follow him around. They help with cooking, chores, punching the occasional dragon, the usual.”

“I— I'm sorry what? Actually, never mind.” Maxim shook his head in concern, and perhaps a little affectionate exasperation. Not that he’d admit it.

VR-LA hummed in response, but didn’t seem to be really listening. Rather, he continued to muse, more to himself than Maxim, “Where’s my boutonniere? I swear I had it around here— oh! Thanks again Dill. I’m still not sure if lilac suits me, but the flowers are quite pretty. Finbar has a whole shawl made of them and wisteria! He likes the colour, and Elyse likes it on him, although to be honest I’m not convinced her opinions outside of that specific context are favourable.”

He fell quiet again, concentrating on something Maxim couldn’t see. With a staticky sigh, the noises of him tugging at fabric continued.

“I can’t decide if the purple, silver and gold are clashing too much… not anything to be done about it now, I suppose.”

Before Maxim could think better of it, he interrupted, “I’m sure you look fine. Your plating tends to reflect your surroundings, so it will take on the purple hue you’re wearing. I doubt you have to worry,” he tilted his head back, considering the image of VR-LA replacing his signature blues with a soft purple, “It will fit nicely with the gold, they contrast well.”

Thankfully, he managed to get a hold of himself before he had a chance to say anything truely damning. Like commenting on how it would make his gold eyes even more striking. Nothing but very distant chatter sounded through the stone for a long moment.

Maxim refused to acknowledge the warming in his chest when he heard the metallic chime of happiness creep into VR-LA’s voice, “You flatter me, Maxim, but thank you nonetheless. I believe I’m just anxious, I’ve put a lot of planning into this, but you have eased my mind on that matter.”

“I do not flatter. I merely speak the objective truth as I see it. But, you are welcome, and I am glad to have helped.”

“Huh… Very well. I don’t think there’s anything left for me to— oh! Well, it’s time to get into position now. We are starting soon.”

There were hurried footsteps and the sound of VR-LA and Finbar talking, before fabric shifted and the previously muffled noises of the guests grew louder. The grass crunched softly as they walked, and a few cheers could be heard from the guests as he assumed Finbar was taking his place at the altar, VR-LA off to his side.

“You asked what everything looked like, didn't you? Well,” VR-LA paused, the sounds of a breeze gently rustling through leaves and soft harp music just audible, “We’re in a park, landscaped like the Feywild. Everything seems just a little too bright, but it’s nice, like nature itself is happy. Actually, given how fey magic works, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. The clearing is surrounded by forest, old growth trees with bark that shines rainbow through the cracks, and iridescent leaves. Mostly green, but there’s all kinds of colours. I like the gold ones. They’re, well… I just like them. But, uh, right now we’re standing under an arbour. There’s a wisteria growing across it, and the flowers are a blend of bright violets and a pale near white purple. The petals are drifting down, a little too slowly and perfectly, there’s definitely magic at work with that. But it’s beautiful. All of it is. I’ve never had any strong opinions on the natural world, but I can certainly see the appeal.”

There was quiet, VR-LA lost in thought or maybe just enjoying the moment, before he snapped back to attention.

“Sorry, Maxim, I hope that was a good enough description. I am only good with words in certain contexts, and painting a picture is unfortunately not one of them.”

Maxim started when VR-LA said his name, having retreated into his own thoughts, doing his best to picture the scenery while also excluding the image of VR-LA from it. But still he’s caught himself wondering what the wizard would look like with shifting colours and flowers reflected on his plating, rather than the monochrome golds of Mechanus which Maxim always saw him in. If the silver chrome was instead faintly awash with soft purples. Light violet and magenta, almost close to a blush blooming across his plating. That would be… gods, that would be pretty, he thought, systems rapidly overheating. He shook his head to clear it. Fans whirred as he flustered himself with his own half formed daydreams. Perhaps it would be best to shut down that line of thinking before it could slip into more dangerous territory.

“No, that was,” Maxim gave a staticky cough to clear his choked vocal unit, “That was nice. It certainly seems fitting for what I know of Finbar.”

“Yes! I helped him and Elyse plan everything, it’s been… a lot, but I'm glad to have been of help. Speaking of Elyse, here she comes.”

Maxim gave a hum of acknowledgement, but let the rest of the ceremony proceed without his interruption. He came close to letting slip a quiet huff of laugh at VR-LA’s shock that his friend was literate, but it was swiftly shoved down to join the rest of his emotions. Kept locked in the steel cage of his heart. A steel cage that as of late, seemed to have a broken door, he mused darkly. The couple said their vows, and even he gave a slight smile at that. At least some people got to have a happy ending, it seemed.

Silence fell as the officiator, a woman he didn’t recognize but spoke with the same drawl as Finbar’s, called for objections. He found himself tensing despite himself. A voice broke the silence, too far off for Maxim to stand a chance at catching, but he heard VR-LA let out a hiss. The silence shifted into yells, the rumbling sound of shifting earth, and something wet and creaking he couldn’t place. VR-LA swore, and then there was a dull thud.

Maxim's heart dropped just like the sending stone.

It was unclear if the crackling electricity was coming from his own overcharged circuits or VR-LA calling upon his lightning magic. Maybe it was both. The sounds of what could be nothing except a fight were muffled from distance and the stone being pressed into the earth, but the sound of cannon fire and a cacophony of shouting voices was unmistakable.

It barely lasted for a half a minute, but Maxim felt each tick of Mechanus and ensuing eruption of sound from the stone like a warhammer to the chest. Arcane energy crackled and something like the sound of tearing metal resounded. He desperately hoped the thumping was footsteps and not a body hitting the ground. The pressure building in his gaskets felt on the edge of bursting as the seconds passed, as though the clock of the universe was turning through molasses.

Eventually, with a groaning shriek Maxim did not want to know the source of, silence fell. There was a moment where he heard nothing, and his powercore stuttered in his chest. But then, footsteps, clicking metal on soft grass growing louder.

VR-LA said something he couldn’t catch over the harsh hiss of releasing pressure from his systems. The wizard kept talking, hurried reassurances and requests to ignore what happened in a choppy static filled tone. But he was okay. He sounded okay at least.

“VR-LA, I…” The wizard continued his stammering speech, and the guilt in his voice made Maxim’s gears twist, “VR-LA, do not worry yourself about it. It is to be expected of you and your crew. But, there’s still a ceremony to complete I believe.”

“I— I suppose you’re right. I am sorry about that though. I think it was a friend of an old foe, out for vengeance. Very unsuccessful vengeance, however. But yes! The wedding.”

The raucous cheers from the crowd were loud even through the stone, and completely at odds with how on edge he felt. But he heard VR-LA cheer and give a laugh that was edged with static and sparking electricity. Despite his best efforts to pass off the sensation as unrelated, the sound soothed his stuttering mechanics.

He stared forlornly at the stone in his hand, deep glittering blue the same that VR-LA wore, before wrenching his eyes away. If he had learned anything from this, it was that his most recent assessment of his and VR-LA’s relationship was correct. Let go or be dragged down into that dark pit of despair he was always teetering on the edge of. Turn his back and walk away. It had been easy enough for VR-LA when they last farewelled. Why should he not do the same?

VR-LA, still watching the wedding, laughed again. A quiet gentle chuckle, dazed and filled with fondness. Something that, at that moment, no one else but Maxim could hear. Electric warmth trickled unbidden through his systems, and he shook his head despairingly.

If only it were that easy.

Chapter Text

The steady and unstoppable march of time was something Maxim was intimately familiar with. For all his life he’d felt it. Each tick of Mechanus resounded in his chest, marking every second. Each toll of its clockwork bells echoing through him, counting eight hours, then sixteen, then the day. Each full rotation of the gear he dwelt upon marked twenty of them. When the cycle of Mechanus completed itself he felt it, the grand reset as every gear began its age old path from the beginning once more. He had lived through two and a quarter Grand Cycles, a little over thirty eight years of endless ticking and tolling and timekeeping. Even in the time he’d spent away from his home plane, once as an adventurer, and now within the isolated pocket of his demiplane, he still felt the passage of time creeping ever on. He’d never been able to make up his mind on whether it was comforting or infuriating. It depended on the situation, he supposed.

At the moment, it was painful.

It had been one week, four days, twelve hours and twenty minutes since he’d hung up the sending stone to VR-LA. It had been sixteen thousand five hundred and eighty minutes since he’d heard his voice. Nine hundred and ninety four thousand and eight hundred seconds and counting since he’d had confirmation of his well-being. Maxim hated that he knew that, that he bothered to know that, that the number just kept growing greater. The whole point of cutting his non professional ties with VR-LA was so this didn’t happen. So he could stop worrying.

But, everytime he sat down to work on a project, to research, to tinker, to simply do something, his mind would wander back to the wizard. Creation and problem solving had always been his escape. It was hard to fret and fear, to grieve and despair, if his mind was entirely occupied with other matters. But recently, VR-LA had somehow ingrained himself into the habit. He’d been tinkering away with a little clockwork trinket, something to just pass the time, and found himself wondering if VR-LA would like it. He’d taken some notes on a culture he was researching, only to realise he’d been keeping track of things to discuss with VR-LA when they next spoke. He’d been struggling with scribing out spells, and started lamenting that he didn’t have VR-LA’s prowess to assist him as he once had with the shrink spell. 

Despite his efforts to remove him from his life, Maxim could not shake the wizard from his thoughts. He seemed to haunt the workshop, like a stubborn after image that refused to fade. He’d blink and for the briefest moment, VR-LA would be there, sitting in the chair across from him or perusing the bookshelves alongside him. Just a hazy recollection of a common occurrence, brought back to life as a hollow echo, nothing more than a momentary imagining. He was being haunted by the ghost of a man who wasn’t even dead. Not to his knowledge at least. He very well could be, but even if he was, Maxim was sure he had places far more important to haunt than the workshop of a man who refused to let them even be friends.

Maxim wished he could let them be friends. Maybe even more than friends, but that was an even more impossible step.

His morose train of thought continued as he wandered aimlessly through his workshop, searching for something he could do that couldn’t possibly be associated with VR-LA. It was more difficult than it should have been. Maxim had picked up a random collection of papers, paging through them to see if anything caught his eye, when a dull crash of metal on metal sounded through the walls. His head snapped up as a faint tremor went through the floor. It was barely noticeable, as was the noise itself, but still, it was undoubtedly strange.

With a quick arcane gesture, an image sprung up before him, an illusory viewing screen that showed his front door and some of the gear beyond. He didn’t use them often, there was little reason to after all, but they were a helpful reassurance on the odd occasion he received an unexpected knock or something strange occured. At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but as he commanded the arcane eye to move, to look upwards across the gear, he saw the source of the sound. A dark wood hull with an almost burgundy tint, a fine bow of gold embossed with swirls and stars, and three masts from which glimmering sails stretched. There was no name painted on its side, the wood panels clearly newer than the last time he’d seen them, but no such identifier was needed.

The Per Aspera had made port at his home, for what reason he knew not, but already he hurried to put down his papers and make for the door. He lingered on the arcane image for a moment longer, waiting to see if a silver figure garbed in blue would walk down the gangplank. His powercore flared at the first sight of blue and wide brimmed hat, only for him to realise a moment later it was merely Dani with some new and peculiar head wear. Then was Kyana, a step behind her and gold as the gears around her. He caught a glimpse of silver, a tall lanky figure. But he was more cautious about getting his hopes up this time. Whoever it was was pallid and gaunt, armoured in VR-LA’s elven chain but wearing no blue, with a sword slung across his back. Maxim’s brown creased at the sight of the stranger. But, following in the wake of his companions, he saw the fourth and final figure depart. He paused misstep on his way to the foyer.

It had only been a short while since Maxim had last seen VR-LA, and for once not much seemed to have changed. He wore the same style robes, long and flowing with golden trim, the swirls and circular motifs across his chest plate proudly on display, along with his various scars. From this distance Maxim couldn’t see if there were any new ones, nor could he determine anything from his posture or face. He did, however, catch sight of a glinting silver star hanging from his waist. This symbol of Mystra seemed more ornate than the last, the star set against a blue field of fractaling crystal. His powercore stalled at the sight, the clearly deepened commitment evident.

He tore his eyes from the image, dispelling it with a harsh swipe. Reaching the foyer just as the front door swung open, he hastened to school his posture to something distant yet relaxed, his already blank expression to polite but closed off. Dani sauntered in ahead of the rest tipping her hat to him, which he returned with a nod, eyes flitting past the other two members until they landed on VR-LA. The wizard’s eyes brightened at the sight of him, at least Maxim thought they did, maybe he was just imagining what he wanted to see.

“VR-LA, and crew of the Per Aspera.” Maxim offered the group a slight bow in greetings, sights still locked on the wizard. “Is there some service to which I may offer my assistance?”

VR-LA replied with his own bow, awkward and stiff as he seemed to try and match Maxim demeanour. He pushed down the displeasure threatening to show on his face. The sight of the wizard’s eyes dimming and shoulders tensing made his gears twist. He’d asked for this, but still, being with anything but a bright smile stung.

He cleared his vocal unit, and again Maxim had to repress his reaction to his calm and clinical tone. “Yes there is. I… I would like to first apologise for the shoddy reception during the wedding, we were waylaid by several encounters. But, it was through there that we were reintroduced to Vhas, who I don't think you have had the—” VR-LA caught himself, seeming to deliberate for a moment, casting the Githyanki in question a not so faintly judgmental stare, “Who you haven't met yet.”

Maxim kept his voice level, shooting a curious look at the strange Githyanki as he spoke, “That was going to be my next question. I see that you no longer travel with Finbar, I take it that the ceremony then was not a complete disaster?” 

VR-LA let slip a faint huff of laughter, which Maxim tried not to be pleased by. “No, only a partial disaster, but successful ultimately.”

“Excellent, I am glad to hear it. It is rare for one to succeed in exiting that line of work.”

VR-LA tilted his head, and said in an almost mockingly obvious tone, “Well, you have.”

Maxim tensed, tearing his eyes away from the wizard. It wasn’t that he was trying to keep his past a secret, but well… VR-LA having picked up on it with him ever saying so explicitly left a tightness in his chest. A feeling of sickly exposure. Had he really become so lax? Had his wish to make VR-LA understand made him so transparent? What else had he potentially put on show unbeknownst to himself?

He hurriedly moved on, turning to the newcomer and almost talking over the top of the wizard. “You say your name is Vhas?”

“Bloodless Vhas mate.” He gave a grin, eyes only a few shades lighter than VR-LA’s flashed in the light, cracked lips nearly splitting and revealing a row of teeth, jagged and worn like they had been filled to a point. Despite the unpleasant sight, his expression was open and warm, as was his voice. “Howdy, pleasure to meet ya.”

Before Maxim could reply, Dani gave Vhas a quizzical look. “Don’t you have blood now?”

“Is that your full name?” Maxim asked, but found himself talked over.

“Well okay yes technically I have blood, it's just my shtick. I've been doing it for a while now, I don't know what I will be when all of it comes back, but I’ve got time now, we’ll workshop it. VR-LA doesn’t get an opinion.”

Maxim frowned, glancing between the Githyanki and his no longer friend. The animosity, while not seeming threatening, was palpable as VR-LA sent Vhas a sharp glare. He heard Dani mutter under her breath, tone exasperated.

Vhas turned away from her, and thrust out a hand to shake. “Anyway, apologies mate, pleasure to meet ya.”

His grin grew even wider, but Maxim hesitated before returning the hand shake. 

“Would Bloodless Vhas by your complete name then?”

“Uhhh,” the Githyanki paused, smile dropping as he thought, then gave a slow nod, “Yeah, yep. I don't have any other one, so yes, I think so.”

Maxim sighed, but took his hand and gave it a single firm shake. “Indeed, it seems it falls out of style in the Planescape.”

He stepped back, and took a moment to survey the group as a whole. While he’d seen VR-LA recently, it had not been since they came to him seeking advice on reaching Acheron that he’d seen them all together. There seemed to be a tenseness that had not been present previously, a hard light in their eyes and grit to even their smiles. A calm but fearful readiness. Like the static build before a lightning strike, like bracing one's body for a blow. Maxim knew the look well. The weight of experience and destiny, the strain of facing impossible odds, the burden of those who fought battles no mortals ever should need to. It had been many, many years since he’d seen it on any face but his own. He nodded, a gesture both pitying and respectful, then beckoned them to follow him deeper into the sanctum.

Their footsteps followed him down the hall, and despite how Dani clearly seemed to have taken charge, it was VR-LA who fell into place at the front beside Maxim.

He turned to him and asked, “So it is business then, for which you come to me I assume, yes?”

“Of course, yes,” VR-LA said, calm and polite, hollow and weightless. A professional response to a professional question. Just as he’d requested.

“Understood.” He hated how small his voice sounded.

The rest of the thankfully short walk was made in tense silence, the ticking of Mechanus and fall of five nearly entirely mismatched footfalls the only noise. Maxim liked to think that there was a nice cadence to him and VR-LA walking side by side, a coordinated rhythm between them, something that sounded right. It was an idle and pointless fantasy of course, but he couldn’t help but bask in the reminder of his presence. His safety. The mere fact that he was, for now, still alive.

He led them into the workshop, its tall stone walls laden with shelves of projects and books and maps and tools and all manner of strange trinkets he’d amassed. With a flick of his hand the dancing lights flared, drifting over to cluster in a loose ring around the central table. He gestured to them to sit and did so himself. The silence stretched for a beat longer as the group and Maxim waited for one of their members to speak. All eyes, even Dani’s, fell on VR-LA.

He shifted, eyes widening at the attention focused on him, and Maxim wished he didn’t find the quiet uptake of his whirring fans so endearing. VR-LA cleared his speakers with a cough, and turned to Maxim. 

He gestured with his hands as he spoke, voice a little staticky, “Um, we have need of upgrading the Per Aspera in order to accelerate it to a really really fast speed, for lack of eloquence.”

Maxim nodded slowly and sat back in his chair. “I see, and for what purpose might this serve?”

“Well,” Maxim’s gaze, locked on VR-LA’s hands as he moved them, snapped over to Dani as she spoke, “We gotta break the rules of the Planescape in order to save the Planescape is kinda the deal.”

He tilted his head in curiosity, and the ticking of his gears grew tenser.

“The completion of the mission that was set by the Per Aspera’s old crew,” VR-LA elaborated.

Maxim frowned, and cast a critical eye at VR-LA. He had distantly hoped, foolishly and vainly, that he may reconsider his choice, reconsider his determination to see his path through to its bitter end. He bowed his head, unable to look at the wizard.

“I see. And you hold this to be a necessary task, even after everything it has already cost you?”

The silence stretched, and Maxim braced himself for an answer.

“Honestly, normally no.” Maxim’s eyes flicked up sharply, and he watched VR-LA pause, thinking through his words, speaking slowly, deliberately, and Maxim thought perhaps even genuinely. “However, there are worse forces in the Planescape that seek to achieve the same goals as MR-SN had. It is for primarily the reason of being able to stop them that we have been motivated to complete this.”

“Hm, the never ending fight,” he said, carefully considering the wizard.

“Yes.” VR-LA nodded, and Maxim wasn’t sure whether the calm certainty he spoke with, more obligation than conviction, was better or worse.

He tipped his head back, eyes travelling over the whole group, but always flicking back to VR-LA as he asked, “And what happens after this victory? Then what?”

Dani spoke, hunched over, elbows on her knees, and smoke slipping from her mouth, “It’s not so much that we're thinking about what happens next, but that we’re ensuring that everyone has the opportunity to have a next. If our enemies are successful, there’s no more Planescape. So, if you wanna keep living in it, like we wanna keep living in it…”

She trailed off, her point clear enough without any further clarification. Maxim’s brows lowered at the apparent stakes. He’d faced such calamitous consequences before, perhaps they had not been so immediately Planescape ending, but the results still would have been undoubtedly dire, had they— No, not they, in the end it had been one man alone who had claimed victory. Had Alexander not prevailed. Pyrrhic as it turned out to be.

He nodded, releasing a defeated exhale of steam. “Well, I suppose that if all of this does hang in the balance then it is in my interest to help you. Tell me of your problem.”

Dani smiled, a tight and sharp thing that hinted at mania rather than joy, and launched herself into an explanation.

“Yes. So essentially we need to make our ship go as fast as possible and, while we have some ideas, the actual arcane implementation needs some research we don't really have our hands on. We’re particularly interested in ways you could utilise demon ichor to turbo boost the ship, to use the technical term,” she shot a look at VR-LA, her words pointed but teasing for his earlier stumbling, “But you know we need to make sure we account for protection as well. We've already upgraded our shielding and integrated an arcane intelligence into the ship to help with the navigation, but the actual speed itself is something that we could use a hand with.”

Dani gestured to Maxim, to the shelves of books and tables of half finished machines, potions, and arcane scrolls. He hummed, considering the issue for a moment, recalling what he knew. The thought of the vile substance sent a nasty jolt through his circuits, but he pushed it aside. While he didn’t like the lower planes, he couldn't deny the fact that he had made no small amount of effort in researching them, the Abyss admittedly, being prime among them.

“I see, demon ichor can indeed be used. It is an imper— Well, it has been used traditionally with soul engines. My understanding is that it is a specific reaction with the construct that is made in Hell, but perhaps it could be used here. If demon ichor were applied it could provide a short burst I assume. I'm sure an equally strong reaction with the motive force generator,” Maxim mused, finding solace in problem solving, enjoying the distraction putting his mind to work provided. Though he still shook his head, “But, it would be impermanent. You would need something more durable, something of a longer effect.”

Vhas looked between him and Dani, “How much longer are we talking?”

Maxim shrugged, looking to the crew. “Depends on how much longer you need to go. I do not know. A moment? A minute? You came to me with the requirements.”

“If I recall correctly, it's the length of the River Styx,” Dani said, glancing back at her companions for confirmation, and the mechanisms in Maxim’s chest tightened.

That sentence could lead nowhere good. He was proven right when Kyana chimed in immediately after.

She nodded and said matter of factly, “Well it's the Infinite Abyss that we would be launching ourselves down like a rail gun.”

Every gear in his body stalled simultaneously. The cogs in his chest clenched, metal grinding on metal, leaving him with an aching nausea. His circuits fizzled, and body went cold. For all of his paranoia and hopelessness, for all his despair and anxiety, there were few things that could make Maxim truly, blindingly, afraid.

The Abyss, and what dwelt within it, was one of those things. Perhaps the greatest of them. It wedged itself, like a festering unhealing cut, deep within his heart and mind. Cold, old, terror. He clenched his fists to hide their shaking.

The laugh that crackled from his speakers was sharp with static, empty of humour, and full of fear.

“Ah, the Infinite Abyss. Well in that case there's probably nothing long enough, you might as well do what you can,” he said, a manic edge to his usually muted tone.

He shook his head, staring empty eyed at the floor, before looking back to the crew. To VR-LA. As he had done so once before, not all that long ago, he searched for any sign of falsehood, of hope.

As he had before, he found none. Their faces were grim, but not nearly grim enough for the task they had just revealed to him. He turned to look at VR-LA more intently. The wizard refused to meet his gaze, his shoulders tense, his eyes flickering. Perhaps it was from doubt, fear, conflicted determination. Maybe it was none of those things, and Maxim was merely ascribing him the emotions he hoped would steer him from his course. No one spoke. His circuits were cold and fizzling, chest tight. His voice grew more heated despite it.

“You seek to sail down the Infinite Abyss?! And you think—” He stood abruptly from his chair, the tense shaking of his joints making it feels as though they’d break from his plating if not given reprieve. He turned his back, pacing away from the low table. Fury and fear gave weight to his steps. Maxim whirled back around, his coat snapping in the air, and gestured harshly at the group. “This is what is necessary in order to, as you say, save the Planescape? What threat— What manner of threat approaches that requires such a tactic?”

His words lessened in their intensity, until his voice was barely above a harsh whisper. If Maxim had breath it would have been coming fast and heavy, as it was, his systems caught and whirred. He clenched his fists again, pacing coming to a stop before his chair once more as Vhas raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Mate, I’m telling you, I’ve been telling myself the same thing. I don’t know if it will actually work, and I haven’t known everyone here for that long a time.” His voice was surprisingly gentle despite his rough accent, but still, Maxim failed to see the comfort in his words. Vhas raised a hand, as though sensing he was losing the sorcerer. “But, we're talking here to the smartest people I know, and if it means we have to go through the Infinite Abyss at breakneck speeds uh, break a Planescape or two, I think that's what we're gonna do. We have to let go of the ridiculous and focus on just making these things possible. Alright?”

Maxim managed to regain control of his spiralling systems, and refocused himself, using the beat of Mechanus and cadence of Vhas’s voice as a grounding point. There was a sure chime to the tone that was hard to ignore, hard to not let seep into him like a balm. He was still tense, powercore still pounding, but he managed to pick up a few of the fractured pieces of his facade. Sitting back down, he gave a slow nod.

“You have an optimism I have seldom heard before,” he said to the Gith, steeling himself from the memory it reawakened. The words it conjured to mind. Words belonging to someone so full of hope and conviction and someone long, long gone. His voice caught for a moment before he uttered them. “I’ve heard it said that when there is no good choice to be had in front of you, you must simply do what is right… Do you believe that is this course of action?”

He looked to the crew, his eyes straying to VR-LA.

The wizard nodded, once, slowly but surely, and spoke in much the same manner. “Yes, and honestly at its core, we know that we just cannot do nothing. We must do something. There is an opportunity for us to accomplish this and stop the enemy. I do not feel comfortable putting this in the hands of others, when I know that we have the potential to do so.”

Maxim’s stare hardened. He’d heard such sentiments before, the idea that one specific group, one specific peoples, were the only sure fire way of getting the job done. It was true in the end, he supposed, but not without cost. Such victories were prone to being pyrrhic, were prone to great loss. He went to voice such thoughts, but Dani spoke first.

“It's not that we’re doing this because we want to, or even because circumstances have been contrived to make us. I think there's a world where, well, personally I don't think all of us would be trying to gun and break the rules of the Planescape. But, this is something that only my crew could pull off, and VR-LA’s faith in us is not misplaced. I can only hope that you can see the logic in that too,” she said, an unusually imploring edge to her rough voice, but like the others, she was honest, and she was sure.

Slowly, Maxim nodded. “I see. And when all is said and done, if it is done, what will you do then?”

He addressed it to the crew, voicing it clearly at them, but despite himself, again he looked to VR-LA. The wizard had quieted as Dani spoke, only nodding in support, but now tilted his head in consideration. After a moment, he straightened and met Maxim’s gaze. The mere feeling of his eyes upon him returned some of the warmth to his circuitry, but he maintained his reserved countenance. VR-LA’s gaze fell from him as he began to speak, and Maxim mourned it loss, though listened intently. His eyes widened a little with each word he said.

“These last few weeks have been eye opening, to say the least, as far as what I had considered my obligations and my priorities. I am arrogant enough to call myself smart, and the smartest thing that I have learned is that I do need to consider a shift in said obligations and priorities. I will answer this call because I am confident in my abilities and in the abilities of my crew. I will answer the call because it is the right thing to do,” he paused, taking a moment to relax the tension in his posture, then looked up at Maxim with a light in his eyes that could perhaps be indicative of a smile, “But, afterwards, I am not necessarily beholden to such calls. I would love to keep sailing on the Astral Sea, but perhaps not in the capacity, with the same risk and danger, that has been invited so far. Finbar, his final lesson is a lesson in how to step back, I aim to implement it.”

VR-LA finished, looking Maxim in the eye, warmth seeping into the usual coldness of his determined tone. The sorcerer circuits flared, flickered, flushed with energy. He raised his chin, staring VR-LA down, waiting for the break in his composure that would surely indicate that what he was saying was indeed too good to be true. It didn’t come. He knew not what had made the wizard change his mind, he almost didn’t care. Maxim’s hands shook for an entirely different reason, and he laced his fingers together in his lap.

It had been a long time since he’d felt hope. Truely and blindly felt it. Honestly and unabashedly felt it.

Hope was a dangerous feeling. The worst and most tempting of them.

But there was a chance that, should this be seen through, he could have what he wanted, the one thing he’d let himself want in a long, long while. That perhaps, just maybe, VR-LA would live. That he could, with an even more tenuous but no less hopeful maybe, be here, with him. Be his, in whatever manner the wizard would allow such a thing. Just maybe, but there was a chance.

VR-LA offered him a smile, eyes bright, faceplate set in the faintest upturn, plating dancing with the reflection of dancing lights and flirting wasps, like the arcing of constellations. Any further resolve against the vivid energy sparking through him crumbled, and he nodded in acquiescence.

Perhaps he could dare to let himself take it.

“Very well then,” he said, voice still heavy despite the unfamiliar lightness in his chest, “Under certain conditions, I will be happy to help you in whatever way I may. First let us consider—“

A high pitched ping echoed through the room, and Maxim looked up sharply. The noise repeated, a bright ringing growing more frantic by the second. It bounced off the stone and metal walls, doubling up into a feverish cacophony as the lights shifted to a warning shade of vermillion.

“That's a peculiar alarm,” he muttered, the lightness vanishing, a tense wariness replaced it.

He could distantly hear the crew muttering to one another, but he paid them no mind, instead reaching for magic woven into his sanctum. He waived his hand, tracing a glyph, and for the second time that day a gold tinged screen appeared before him. He angled the arcane eye to face the source of the alarm, revealing the otherside of the workshop’s outer wall. Pressure built in his gaskets. He zoomed in, getting a closer look at what he had already clearly seen.

Before the imposing stone and metal faceted edifice stood ten figures. They were lithe and muscular, with greenish yellow skin bare and scared, their only coverings being elaborate metal plates and sashes of red fabric. They were adorned with trinkets, beads and broken blades, feathers and finger bones. The trophies of fallen foes. Githyanki soldiers, ten in total, sarth if he was correct. His eyes narrowed, searching for their leader.

Vhas’s voice broke his focus, and Maxim wondered if he was imagining the slight sadness to his tone. “Looks like we've got some friends.”

“Indeed,” he said shortly, scoffing quietly to himself as he watched the magic one Githyanki tried and failed to work on the wall.

“Although to clarify these are not friends,” Kyana chimed in, and he heard the shing of her sword being drawn from its sheath.

It had been a long time since he’d heard that particular scrapping metallic noise, since he’d felt the spiking electricity and tenseness that came before battle. He settled into the feeling with more ease than he thought he would. But then again, even after so many years, instincts as strongly ingrained as those required as an adventurer did not fade so easily. He may be rusty, but he was by no means inexperienced. He had faced far greater foes. Despite the increased pounding of his powercore, his hands remained steady as he manipulated the image. 

Maxim nodded, the action sharp. “I assumed well enough.”

Dani hissed, and he saw sparks flare in the corner of his vision, the metallic cracking sound of her rifle being armed joining the rest of the pre battle sounds. “We could be jumping to conclusions, you never know.”

Maxim glanced at her in surprise and with no small amount of doubt. Given the Githyanki’s ready stances, their hands gripping their sword hilts in anticipation, there was little else he could see this leading to. Regardless, he shrugged, turning back to the illusion.

“I've taken it from you demeanour that these are— well, friend or foe, they are foolish. They are attempting to transmute the wall. Fortunately, when I built them I embedded it with telstang, protecting it from shape changing magicks. A technique invented by Halaster Blackcloak actually. They’re not going to get in that way,” he said, a pleased note creeping into his voice as he watched the Githyanki struggle, his handiwork holding fast. 

It vanished as a faint vibration travelled through the floor, a steady pounding, like footsteps. He let out a growling mechanical rumble as the Githyanki parted, revealing a hulking form of glistening red scales. It was the colour of freshly spilled blood and fading hellfire. The dragon beat its wings, its gut and chest beginning to glow, bright cracks appearing like veins of magma between its scales. Then it opened its maw, the glow from within white hot and brilliant. Even through the arcane eye he could see the heat shimmers beginning to surround the dragon.

“That will do it though,” he said in resignation.

“Alright, okay.” Another ringing scrap of metal sounded as Vhas unseated his sword, the silver and black blade glinting in the light, the hum of its power palpable in the air. 

Maxim flicked his hand, dispelling the illusion. Just as he did so the wall before them began to glow. It was dim at first, a dull rusty orange, then red. He could feel the heat radiating from it, strange after so long spent in Mechanus’s perfect median. The stonework cracked and popped, shards on it clattering against the floor, smoke and embers billowing. Red brightened to yellow, then a blinding white gold as the stone began to slough from its place, metal running in rivulets to the floor. The light of dragon fire and Mechanus peaked through the growing hole. The crackling roar of fire filled his audio processors. The ticking of Mechuns resounded in his chest.

His mechanics slowed, matching its tempo, and he braced himself for what was to come.

“Well,” he said, sounding distant even to himself, “Never let it be said that your visits are not interesting.”

VR-LA’s voice was the only thing that seemed to cut through noise, through the wall of mechanical focus he was trying to cultivate. Chiming and bright and clear. The wizard winced, and Maxim felt a static charge grow as he called upon the Weave.

 “I’m so sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Chapter Text

The roar of flames and sundering stone, accompanied by the still pinging alarm, echoed through the room. Red from the fire and dancing lights reflected off the brass faceted walls, casting the room in a ruddy haze. Maxim took a few steps back from the table. From within his robes he fished out a small crystal, the triangular spires encircling its edge radiating like stylised sun rays. From within it he could feel the beat of Mechunus pulsing. He placed it on his forehead, the gem slotting itself into his plating, and the ever present ticking reverberated through him with twice its usual intensity. Around him, the crew of the Per Aspera prepared for battle also.

Kyana held her sword, a brilliant silver blade taller than herself and just as wide, in both hands. With a roll of her shoulders she summoned her psionic power. Her astral arms, which he had seen once before, burst forth, though the inhuman anatomy and jagged spines of light were more concrete in their form. With a crackling whirr of machinery, a rotund metallic thing perched upon two legs appeared. It turned, and Maxim saw the long glyph inscribed barrel that extended from it. The runes began to blink and glow, charging up. Vhas whispered a few arcane words and golden magic, an organic flow of jagged shapes like shattered swords, encircled the brow of Dani and VR-LA. Maxim glanced back at the caster, seeing Vhas settle into a ready stance with his sword, before he looked back to VR-LA beside him.

The magic encircled the brim of his hat, edging his night sky halo in bright light. Red and gold reflected off his plating. His usual blues looked black in light, though still they glittered. Maxim had once watched a distant forest fire, its flames licking at the dark and glimmering night sky. It had been years ago, in which he’d listened to his former companions fret and rest. In that moment he could not help but see that night echoed in the warping reflections of flame’s across VR-LA’s body, and the dark of his robes like the Prime’s sky shot through with embers. His expression was tight, eyes bright and sharp. Maxim resisted the urge to reach for him, to both find and give comfort with the gesture. He turned away, trying to refocus attention on the cracking wall before him.

Now was not the time to get distracted by such thoughts.

Dani hoisted her gun, far larger than the last time Maxim had seen it and sporting two long, thin barrels. “I know we've always been enemies in the past but if there's any way we can swing this so we could be on the same saide, we have a common enemy with these guys. I’m just saying, look for openings.”

Maxim’s brows lowered. The crew could do whatever negotiating they wished, but he would not be tolerating intruders in his home. Especially ones lacking the manners to even use the front door.

He heard VR-LA begin to mutter to himself, a sending by the sounds of it, as a glowing crack split through the wall. Wincing, he glanced at the ceiling, searching for any sign of grander structural failure. The rest of the sanctum held fast, and though he remained ready for battle, he relaxed at the sight. At least he’d only have one wall to fix after this. He did not let himself consider that there may not be an after. Even if this foolish group could be dispatched with little trouble, he doubted it was the only thing they’d face. No, the githyanki were smarter than that. Besides, he found it better to expect the worst outcome and hence be pleasantly surprised if it didn’t come to pass.

A boom shook the sanctum as the dragon threw its weight against the weakened wall. The rubble exploded inward in a burst of flame and stone and dragon scales. The crew and himself stood far enough back that they were not harmed, but a few chips of stone glanced off his plating, leaving faint scratches in their wake. Bright light spilled in from outside, and Maxim blinked as his eyes adjusted. When his sight cleared, the dragon had slithered through the opening, its claws and fire leaving blackened blasts and gouges on the tiles. Molten stone slough off the walls, cascading down its back and wings. Astride it sat a figure, silver armour white in the light, the greatsword in his hand the same silver as Kyana’s. Behind them, the sarth filed in, steps sounding in unison with one another yet discordant against the steady tick of Mechanus.

The githyanki knight pointed his sword forward, its point flashing the light.

“For the crown,” he said with a grin, then it dropped as he stood, slashing his sword to the side, “Kill ‘em all.”

Dani continued to shout something about having a common enemy, yet armed her cannon regardless. A second explosion rocked the sanctum, a blast of white hot blue flame eviscerating half the sarth and making the knight stumble. The genasi lowered her arm, fingers smoking. Her cannon went off a moment later, and the knight crashed to the ground. With it, the battle was on.

Vhas turned to Kyana, a smile on his face, his magic simmering in the air as though barely restrained. “Alright Fists, which one do ya want? Do you want the knight or the dragon?”

“I want the dragon!” She called back with an almost childlike joy.

Maxim shook his head in a mix of disbelief and concern.

Vhas vaulted over the table, Kyana close behind him. Their swords flashed like shards of light, Vhas’s magic and Kyana’s psionics a matching battle hungry gold.

“Mate, sorry you have to be on the other end of this,” Vhas said as he levelled his blade at the knight, and magic surged. Spectral copies of the blade Vhas carried whirled around his opponent, hemming him in all sides. He swiped his sword, once, twice, three times. Never striking with the blade, but rather golden echoes glancing off the knight’s armour and digging into flesh.

At the same time Kyana let out a shout, primal and psionic, echoing in his audio processors and mind. Golden copies, not of a blade but of herself, danced around her too. She struck the dragon twice, her second blow backed by the echoes of other astral bodies and a burst of Vhas’s power. The dragon staggered, stunned.

But even as they took the initiative, the knight struck out with his sword, toward Vhas, still in the midst of aiding Kyana. Maxim threw out a hand and clenched his fist, almost forgotten instincts taking over. Mechanus answered his call, geometric bindings encircling the knight. His strikes slowed, he struggled, and Vhas had time enough to step back. He tugged the knight closer to him, within range of the gith’s shorter blade. It had been a long while since he’d had to use his power in such a manner, and while strange, it felt good to flex the neglected muscle. He kept his grip even as the knight began to struggle, his strength no match for Maxim’s force of will.

Not a moment later, Maxim’s vision went entirely white. 

He tensed, prepared for searing pain or some other danger. None came. Rather, the magic entwined with his being, something he’d always been aware of as one was aware of the movements and bounds of their body, flared with energy. It burned like a phantom limb, with an intensity beyond temperature or comprehension. Astoundingly, somehow it did not hurt. Rather it energised, empowered. It was like a static charge to his soul, and for the first time he felt the individual threads that wove themself into his being, that gave him his power. Delicate and immutable, complex and fractalling, like a perfect spider web of arcane bindings. His vision cleared, and he stumbled. The feeling diminished but did not truely fade, not with the source of the surge so close.

VR-LA had stepped up to stand at his shoulder, and like Maxim had thrown a hand out. But it was not the innate power of a plane that answered his call, nor merely his own arcane ability, but rather a Goddess. The Weave. Magic herself. Chromatic threads danced around the hand from which he’d cast his lighting, swirling over the burning bodies of the fallen githyanki, the fallen knight, the now half dead dragon. The Weave burst out from him like solar flares. Any darkness from the room could not touch him, his body alight. With the halo of Vhas’s magic, now also lit by VR-LA’s own power, there was no word that came to him other than celestial. He’d never met any angels, though once upon a time in his youth he’d seen them from afar, and he failed to think of what they could possibly have on this. How their immortally blessed souls could out shine VR-LA, mortal as he was. Maxim stared at him with wide eyes as the wizard lowered his hand.

No, not wizard. 

Chosen.

Maxim was not sure whether it was fear or awe which caused the pounding in his chest. He barely heard the dying threats of the knight, or Dani loading her gun with careful purpose, but from the corner of his eye he saw her raise it. VR-LA made another arcane gesture, the runes on his spellbook lighting up as he manifested the spirit contained within it. Maxim followed the movement of his hands, how the threads reflected on his plating seemed even sharper and more numerable to the ones he could see with his own eyes. Dani took aim. Vhas syphoned the last of the energy from the dying knight, what small cuts he’d sustained healing over. VR-LA’s awakened spell book appeared in a rush of threads and electricity. Dani fired.

The bullet let out a whistling hiss as it travelled through the air, glinting jagged and deadly. It hit its mark, lodged in the cut Kyana had put in the dragon’s chest.

The sound of its screech and necrotic energy ripping its way through bursting burning blood vessels was visceral. Wet and sharp, squelching and crackling. Black veins of energy bleed into its torso, necrosis beginning to rot its scales and heart. Blood splattered across the floor, smoke rising from it in ashy tendrils. The dragon staggered, eyes wide and shot through with blackened blood. Maxim turned to Dani as she lowered her gun, the barrel still smoking.

A competent group indeed, he thought. Perhaps even a match for his own.

With a snap of her fingers the cannon fired again, the ballister bolt of arcane force stabbing further into the dragon’s chest, nearly but not quite reaching the heart. She let out a frustrated huff, smoke and sparks clouding the air around her.

From across the room, Vhas shook his head. “I don’t even know why I’m here anymore, that one shoots lightning bolts, that one can kill dragons in one hit apparently, that one has four arms. Poor little Vhas and his sword…”

Even as he spoke, he raised his sword, the black edge absorbing the light, beginning to warp the air around it with warbling force energy, then falling apart as spectral copies burst forth from it. In a whirl of blades the gith spun, felling the dragon and his remaining former kinsmen in one fell swoop. The sanctum shuddered as the dragon hit the floor, blood continuing to pool from its wounds. Maxim winced, wondering how badly it would stain the tiles.

“Alright, well, ehhh, that’s done,” Vhas said, rolling his shoulders back and surveying the carnage.

Maxim shook his head, unable to hide his amused and exasperated scoff. “Surely you are not so green in this line of work, as to know not to say that.”

“Wait whaddaya mean mate, they’re all gone?”

Before Maxim could reply VR-LA reached out, placing a hand on his chest while glaring at Vhas. “He’s fishing for compliments, don’t take the bait.”

Maxim stilled, glancing down at VR-LA’s hand, his fingers splayed across the clasps of his robes, silver energy still flaring from the joints. Maxim felt the magic within himself begin to spark and flutter, only for the sensation to fade as the wizard’s hand slipped away. He barely managed to stop himself from chasing the touch. Kyana palmed her sword, making her way to the hole in the wall to take a look around, but Maxim was far too busy watching the magic spark off VR-LA like errant stars. Despite the red cast of the room he was aflame like a pale sun, a blue star, brilliant and burning. He pulled his eyes away, trying to focus on any potentially unforeseen threats.

The wizard staggered for a moment, leaning into Maxim’s space. He went to reach out and stabilise him, finding VR-LA already looking at him. Their eyes met, and Maxim’s joints locked in place. His eyes, usually a faint warm glow, were cold and chromatic, simmering with the magic leaking out from his body. It was beginning to fade, warmth creeping in at the edges, leaving them haloed in a honeyed corona. Slowly he let his magic relax, lowering the arm he had thrown out with it.

Maxim’s expression, having hardened as the fight raged, lost some of its grit as he looked down at the wizard. He had to pause his thoughts for a moment, wondering if the angle was a little steeper than usual. VR-LA had always been nearly his match in height, and still was, but… Yes, he was shorter. Not by much, perhaps only an inch, but enough to be noticeable. Maxim wasn’t sure how to feel about how it made his powercore catch.

VR-LA glanced away, voice a little strained, “By chance, do you have any contingencies for if your location were to be discovered?”

Maxim hummed, low and resonant. Glancing at the hole in his wall his expression hardened as he saw the faintest arcane shimmer in the air. Barely a glint of rainbow fractals. He forced the tension threatening to build down as he realigned himself with the booming ticks of Mechanus, feeling its magic at his beckoning.

“Yes,” he said, almost able to feel his own voice thrumming on the Weave with how tangible VR-LA had made it, “ Me.”

Maxim watched the fractals for a moment longer, then looked back at the wizard. He seemed tense, eyes wide, tugging at his scarf and merely staring at the sorcerer. Was he afraid? No, that didn’t seem right. Fear was not something he’d ever seen on VR-LA, and there was no shakiness in his stance or hint of terror in the roundness of his eyes. Just nerves then, that seemed more appropriate. In a mimcary of an old memory, something Alexander had done for him when he had felt almost too tense to fight, he reached out, snagging VR-LA’s fingers in his own. Comfort was not something he knew how to give, but he tried to soften his expression, to loosen the tightness in his own body, to try and convey in some way that this was, if not okay, at least manageable. He offered a short nod, feeling a little too choked to speak given the magic entwined with his being burning, and the point where VR-LA’s finger’s pressed against his making his circuits spark like a lightning strike.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, and Maxim released his hand, turning as the air shivered, then snapped. Reality shriek as it was torn asunder, like a hole punched through glass as Mechanus was shattered, and a figure pulled itself through the shards of chromatic aberration. The plane shift vanished. The air grew cold and thin. A jagged and gaunt shadow stood in the pooling dragon blood. For a moment the only discernible features were the pitted embers of its eyes, the silver slash of its great blade, and the black iron spikes of its crown.

The figure looked up. A rasping chuckle formed of scraping bones and wheezing breath through rotted lungs fell from desiccated lips. Blackened teeth glinted, a cruel mockery of a smile like a dark slash across her pallid skin.

Vlaakith, Lich Queen of the Githyanki, raised her blade.

Chapter Text

Each word the lich said was like an icy cut through the air.

“Well, well, well, I’ll be.” She scanned over them, eyes flashing in the light, predatory and already in the tight smile of victory. “So it’s you who’ve been causing all this trouble I’ve heard about? Don’t look like much. Most don’t, I suppose. But do not think too lowly of yourselves. To die at my blade is an honour many have aspired to, and fewer have earned.”

Before Maxim had the chance to process the appearance of the lich, Kyana lunged forward, her own silver sword at the ready and a yell that resounded not from her lungs but her mind. A psychic shockwave rocked through him, and those golden echoes burst forth once more. A flurry of silver and gold rained down on the lich, rage adding weight to her blows. Her first swing went wide, her second glancing off spiked armour, one astral fist broke through and forced her to stagger back, the next was parried aside by her blade. 

She chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “I admire your gaul, there are few istik with the nerve to carry one of our sacred weapons. It is not a slight to be taken lightly, but I am impressed. If it’s any consolation, I don’t intend to separate it from your arm when I hang it on my wall of trophies.”

Vlaakith swung it in a wide arc, forcing Kyana to jump back. She tilted her head, and said confused, “Oh… Thanks?”

“You don’t have to thank her, Kyana!” Dani called, rearming her rifle with new urgency.

“What? She’s a Queen,” Kyana said, even as she raised her sword once more.

Dani muttered a curse under her breath the same moment Vlaakith threw forward a hand, the petrified flesh barely clinging to her bones. Shadowy tendrils lunged forth. Maxim felt magic leap to him instinctively, but no shield could save him here, as blacked bonds lashed themselves around him. Chains of necrosis and bars of blackened power imprisoned him. Almost instantly he felt the drain, and he hissed as unfamiliar pain lanced through him, circuits sputtering as their energy was sapped. Kyana leaped aside, too quick to be caught off guard. Dani managed to stumble back as well. But the same cage surrounded Vhas. VR-LA too.

The lightning arcing between VR-LA’s joints turned black, and Maxim’s mechanical heart wrenched as he staggered but didn’t fall, held in place like a manacled puppet. Much like they did with himself, the wasting energy left patinated scars across his plating. The sorcer went to reach over to him, steady him, but found himself too ensnared. A growling huff slipped from him.

While Dani was righting herself and the others struggled with their bonds, Vlaakith turned her hand on Kyana. She clenched her fist. Whatever she had tried to do, arcane force encircling and binding Kyana, failed as she pulled herself from its grip, eyes flaring like suns as her spirit emboldened her body. The lich hissed threw her teeth, but her grin was still unshaken.

“Thank goodness,” she cracked her neck, bones splintering and popping, “I thought this was going to be easy.”

She tossed her sword into the air, and it lunged at Kyana. Unguided and with strength beyond any body it struck twice. Blood splattered against blood in a fine rain, mortal now mingling with draconic across Maxim’s workshop floor. Kyana stumbled, a slash across her shoulder and another on her forearm. She raised her sword despite her own blood running onto the hilt.

Vhas appeared before Vlaakith in an astral flash, leaving his cage behind to dissipate. His arms were spread wide, placating, hand clenched around the hilt of his blade. For a moment Maxim watched him with curiosity, wondering at what peace he could be trying to make. Just as quickly he turned back to his own predicament. There had to be a way he could get out of the cage somehow. No sooner did he begin struggling then the air around him began to vibrate. He tensed, space beginning to glitch and fold in blue flares, heat surging.

“You’re gonna wanna fail this! I know you’re very untrusting.”

Maxim looked up to see Dani, her multitool pointed at him. The heat began to reach unbearable levels, until it felt like it was physically weight pressing inward.

“I believe here I shall make an exception.” He braced himself, and gave into the feeling.

All at once he was compressed, not unlike being shrunk. But this went further. He felt his body begin to slip through the cracks in space, flares of blue and heat surrounding him as he was shifted, until the sensation let out. His body shuddered as he rematerialised, the air shockingly cold for the moment it took for him to adjust. He grimaced, but gave a nod of thanks. Dizzy as he was, it took more than a small warp to turn his insides the wrong way out.

He nearly jumped as Vlaakith’s voice boomed.

“Silence, hshar'lak. You, scum, are not worthy of my presence. Weakest of your clutch in body and in spirit, you shoulda died on that Gith forsaken world, and a thousand times after that. And then above all you ally yourself with the cowards of limbo. I’ll deal with you when the rest of your friends are bleeding on the floor, death would be too swift and good for you, traitor.”

Blackened spittle fell against his silvery armour as she spoke, and Vhas sighed. Her eyes were set on him, burning like the dragon’s breath, but with a chill far more terrible.

“Alright,” he readied his sword, “Gith way it is.”

Kyana began readying herself for another strike, though her wounds had slowed her, and Dani got there first. A bolt of force struck the lich square in the chest, cracking her armour and sending her back. Her boots screeched against the floor, metal on metal. Maxim winced again at the thought of the repairs.

“We all want the same thing, why do we have to keep getting punched about it,” Dani muttered to herself, barely loud enough for Maxim to hear.

Vlaakith’s head snapped to her, and she tilted it to the side, the angle a little sharp to be considered natural. “You… You almost don’t matter at all, except that you’ve learned something, haven’t you? I see it in you, after all those years, having those little constructs toiling away, for what—”

Beside him VR-LA let out an affronted gasp. “Constructs??”

The lich ignored him, grinned widening. “Now all I have to do is extract the secret from you. That should be the fun part.”

Dani snarked something back at her, but Maxim turned his attention to VR-LA, his body still bound in the cage.

“Do you have your situation handled?” He asked, concern seeping into his voice like bleeding oil as he gestured at the bars.

VR-LA smiled at him, the grit in his hard expression softening for a moment. “I can get out at any time. Don’t worry about me.”

“Good.” Maxim nodded, though nearly scoffed at the futility of his request. Not worrying was something he wasn’t, and likely never would be, even remotely adept at. But for a moment he could at least pretend he was fine.

He turned to face Vlaakith. The shove from Dani’s ballister had pushed her into the open, away from the others. His eyes flicked across the room, doing the maths in his head, realising this was likely going to be the best shot he got at not catching anyone in the crossfire. There was no point stalling any longer, not in a fight like this. He muttered an arcane word beneath his breath, twisting its magic into one sharp fast stab. An attempt to weaken the lich’s will. It felt like stabbing into adamantine, and the cantrip failed. No matter, a thought. Her eyes snapped to him, hand raising in some rebuke. Maxim was swifter. He spread his arms wide, mustering the power of Mechanus. The moment when gear struck gear and sparks flew, the concussive burst of energy found in that happening of utter precision. When his hands struck one another those same sparks flared. Golden geometries burst forth around him. Divine light, lawful and pure, engulfed the lich.

Everyone covered their eyes but Maxim. He let the image sear into the back of his receptor plates, basking in the feeling of his magic arcing in precise patterns, like perfect clockwork. His eyes shifted. A faint sharp smile flashing across his face. It had been a very long time since he had mustered power quite so potent. His circuits sparked, energy coursing through him like a hit of adrenaline.

The sunburst cleared, leaving pale tongues of smoke in its wake. Vlaakith staggered, rubbing her eyes, burns blackening her bones. She looked up at him, eyes colder than Cania and smile gone.

“Ah, so you’re a problem, that’s what you are,” she hissed, and raised her sword.

A flash of blue white light cut her off as a spear of spectral lighting arced out from VR-LA, scraping across her shoulder. Her head snapped around, and without looking she blacked an incoming blow from Kyana. The clashing of steel was jarring against the unified ticking of Mechanus, but it didn’t make his gears grind with half the discomfort that seeing Vlaakith’s eyes focused on VR-LA did. Her grin returned, and Maxim swore she licked her lips within the shadow of her helm and crown.

“You’re a special one. Chosen, if I’m not mistaken, and is that sweet smell,” she took a deep sniff, what was left of the skin around her nose flaring, “Ah, yes, a Chosen of Mystra. It’s been a long time since she’s had Magister. I heard that usually the title goes to whoever kills the old one. ‘Champion of the Weave’, that would go well with my other titles, don't you think, little construct?”

Maxim stilled, eyes widening. Not just a Chosen, but a Champion. The prime among Magic’s followers. A tight fluttering in his chest, the pounding sparking of his powercore, something nervous but awestruck, returned. He shook his head in disbelief. To achieve an ascension like that, one so dramatic and swift, merited cause or deeds of great importance. But then again, staring at the Lich Queen across the room, he wasn’t sure why that should even surprise him at this point.

VR-LA raised his chin, making an arcane gesture over his spellbook as he stared to the lich down. “Pretty impressive for a construct, don’t you think?”

“That’s yet to be seen,” she chuckled back.

Vlaakith’s eyes flicked across the group, landing and Maxim for a moment, a potent terror within them. But she moved on, landing on Vhas as he attempted to capitalise off her momentary distraction. She scoffed, lips pulling back from her teeth in a snarl. Wetting them with her tongue, she spoke clear, the singular arcane word heavy and sharp. Vhas’s pupils constricted. He staggered back, sword nearly slipping from his grasp. It only lasted a moment before whatever spell she had cast snapped. Literally. Maxim watched the threads of the Weave flare, a tangled knot of spellwork leaving her mouth, each syllable unravelling, each letter deconstructed, until nothing but a neat lattice remained. The spell dissipated before his eyes, broken before it could even take effect.

VR-LA lowered his hand, the Weave dancing auroral and flame-like around him. 

Snarling, the lich lunged, crossing the room before Maxim could act. But not before Vhas and Kyana could. Both their silver blades found gaps in her armour, and black blood was left in her wake. It didn’t slow her. She raised her sword, bringing it down with a warbling flash of psionic power. Despite Kyana’s guardians slowing its path the sound of wrending metal echoed as it slashed down across VR-LA’s chest. The jagged and hooked edge caught and tore, leaving a messy gash. She redirected the swing, another cut appearing across the wizard’s gut too fast to notice it being made. Oil gushed out onto the floor, brackish black. VR-LA’s gears shunted, whirring high pitched and stuttering frantically as he nearly fell to his knees.

She raised her sword above her head, its sharp point facing down. The red gems set into it winked in the light, like leering hungry eyes. For a horrible moment he thought it may strike through the wizard’s chest. She stabbed down as, across the room, Vhas swung his own blade high, gold spilling forth from its luminous metal. An echoing battle cry, ephemeral and harmonious, swept across the room. Kyana readied her sword and Dani her gun, spirits bolstered. VR-LA’s wounds closed just enough to stop the spilling of his life blood, enough to grant him the strength to stagger back. A vicious scrape came as Vlaakith’s sword plunged into the floor. Maxim relaxed, but only for a moment, as he saw energy ripple from the blade.

The explosion that burst forth left his plating and mind untouched, unharmed, but something deep within the Weave of his soul snagged. Unravelled. Dimmed. Beside him VR-LA’s magic fizzled, the Weave growing dark and resistant beneath even his dexterous fingers. Vhas cursed, his Gith words rough and sharp, and Kyana’s sword seemed to grow heavier in her hands. Maxim felt the power of the shard on his forehead fade, the tick of Mechanus growing distant. He hissed, steam billowing from the vents in his plating, and closed his eyes, searching for the echo of its beat within him. 

Around him the fight raged on. Dani caught alight with blue flame, her veins and eyes aglow and sparks leaping from her as she ran. VR-LA’s spiritual weapon slashed across Vlaakith’s cheek as Dani’s force ballister sent her reeling. Her grimace turned to grin as VR-LA tried to stun her mind with an arcane mockery of psionics, chuckling at the futility. Kyana braced her sword, ready to run forward and strike. 

Maxim saw none of it, heard none of it, all his senses directed within and beyond. Eventually, deep inside the perfectly fractalling threads of his being, he found ones untouched by Vlaakith’s dampening power. Ones too pure and powerful to be effected, that thrummed with each mighty turn of Mechanus, each beat of the heart of Primus, each and every ticking whirring thing that made Law of the Planescape. Grasping that feeling, he pulled it to the heart of his own being. The ticking around him echoed in his audio processors, all other sound fading away, so great that even the busy combatants looked up in surprise.

Maxim opened his eyes, the impression of a turning whirling cogscape visible within them, and reached out toward Vlaakith. His grip on telekinesis had not faded as the Lich had sapped at his power, and he turned it on her now. With the perfect cadence of Mechanus echoing in his movements, his being perfectly balanced along the threads of Magic and Law, even she could not escape the unseen force ensnaring her. He wrenched her across the room, away from VR-LA, and toward the ready edge of Kyana’s blade. She needed no further prompting, and lashed out at the restrained lich. In a flurry of blows her fists and blade took turns raining down on her. Silver swords flashed brilliantly in the light, movements too fast to comprehend as the two figures traded blows and parries. Black and silver and silver and gold. More of that dark lich blood splattered across the floor, flying off the length of Kyana’s sword, but red joined it as well. Vlaakith threw her hand forward, the monk freezing mid swing as her veins went black and skin white. She could not dodge or parry as the lich brought her blade down in a swipe across her chest.

The thud echoed loud amongst the clamour of battle. Vlaakith towered over her still form, bringing her sword up to strike a final blow. There was a golden flash as Vhas pointed his sword toward them. He cut through the air, three strikes at nothing that appeared as spectral echoes across the room, two cuts finding purchase in bone with sickening cracks. Kyana’s wounds knitted back together, but she still lay frozen on the ground. It did the job, however. Maxim felt the clenching around his powercore loosen as the lich turned away from her supposedly downed foe. 

It only lasted so long, as something cold began to pool around his feet. Looking down he saw not the warm bronze and stone tiles, but rather a smokey grey mist rapidly rising. In mere moments it billowed above his head, and even seeing his hand in front of his face was near impossible. Quiet fell, filled with nothing but ticking and ragged breaths. He focused as best he could on what he could hear, tense and ready, though for what he didn’t know. The whoosh of blade through the air sounded somewhere ahead of him. Vhas yelled a curse, but no cry of pain. Maxim’s eyes went wide as he realised what was coming, but there was not even time to throw up his arcane ward. Silver flashed in the corner of his vision, the sound of tearing metal ringing in his mind as a line of pain was sliced into the back of his shoulders. A rough yell escaped him as he staggered at the nearly forgotten feeling of a wound. Oil seeped into the back of his robes, but he paid his own injury no mind. Rather, Maxim listened, turned in the direction he had last seen VR-LA.

The sound of a blade cutting through air sounded again, and again was accompanied by the screech of tearing metal. VR-LA cried out, a short and choked noise, no more than a sharp burst of static, but it rang loud in the quiet. The sound of liquid splattering the floor seemed magnified as well. There was a gentle creak, a squeal of bending crumpling metal, then a dull clank. Maxim could not tell if it was the sound of the wizard’s body hitting the floor or merely him falling to his knees. Amongst the sightless echoing haze it was impossible to tell, and the ragged electric crackles bouncing around in his mind from his powercore offered no help. 

Dani shouted somewhere off to the side, metal striking magic with a shattering ring, but Maxim didn’t turn to check. The mist began to fade, visibility returning one foot at a time. After what felt like an age but he knew to be only seconds, he saw a glimmer of silver and blue amongst the dull grey. A flash of gold. The flicking but present glow of two eyes. A form torn open but staggering to his feet. The floor beneath VR-LA was black with his blood, the pale panels that made him mutilated with tears and dents, even burns from his own sparking circuitry. He was tethering dangerously, but alive.

The wizard gave Maxim a look that, if it weren’t for the dimness of his eyes and slash across his cheek, might have been a smile. As fractured as it was, the sorcerer felt the pounding of his powercore calm. He returned the look with a nod as steady as he could muster, quashing the urge to run and root through his stores for a healing potion. Later, he could do that later. They just had to make it a little longer, kill the lich a little faster. He braced himself against the blinding static threatening to build in his chest, pain and panic intermingling, and spun on his heel to face where he’d last heard Vlaakith.

Dani had taken a small circular black amulet from her coat pocket, grinning at Vlaakith. “Thanks for saving me the trouble of running up to you.”

She slammed it into her chest, Arcane energy flaring out from it, overpowering the dampening field. Maxim felt the resistance of the Weave, the binding on his own magic, shatter. Chromatic prisms began to warp the air around the lich, the shadow of something red and putrid leaking through the cracks in reality. Vlaakith stumbled, her form beginning to discorporate. Maxim’s pistons shunted in anticipation.

She gritted her teeth, digging her sword into the ground to get a better grip, and shrugged off the spell. Dani growled, both in displeasure and pain Vlaakith’s stare began to sap her vitality. She dashed away before it could begin to dim her fire, the sparks left in her wake catching on Vlaakith’s clothes for a brief moment. Not a bad plan, Maxim thought as he watched the plane shift fade. He steadied himself for what he was about to do. Getting within melee of his combatants was something he liked to avoid, for as powerful as he was, gold was a soft metal, and he wasn’t quite as robust as he wished. His steps echoed in perfect cadence with Mechanus, each movement and extension of the plane’s power. He pulled a tuning fork from within his coat and felt his magic surge. Dani’s force bolt glanced off the lich’s armour, but it provided enough of a distraction for him to reach out and catch Vlaakith’s arm. 

Maxim met her eyes, diamond white and whirring gears meeting the unholy flames of undeath and hellfire. His systems stalled despite himself. He quashed the cold shiver that threatened to wrack his body, expression hardening as he half growled and half hissed out his words.

“I will save the pleasantries, I want you out of my house.”

The spell flared, fragments of darkness and stagnant stench slipping from the rift to the Underdark he was opening. Vlaakith tensed, and fought against his arcane pull. As boney and rotted as it was, the ancient muscles swelled with strength beyond his own. She shoved him back, his feet screeching against the floor. Again the plane shift failed, and she scoffed, raising her sword to strike.

“Same trick ain’t gonna work twice. But now I’ve noticed you…” She swung down, silver flashing before him, something else blue and bright flaring in the corner of his eye.

“Maxim! Move!” VR-LA yelled from somewhere behind him, and he turned, time slowing as the blade swung down and lightning began to arc around the wizard.

He had a clean shot to Lich, if he was willing to shoot through Maxim that is. There was not a chance he could move aside in time. Arcane rings formed of glimmering threads encircled his arms, reflecting off his plating until he looked as though he was woven from magic itself, his eyes glowing bright enough to appear white. The sorcerer watched mesmerised as the lighting crackled, its jagged tendrils forming crowning wreaths around his body. No, there was not a chance Maxim could move aside in time, as generally undexterous as he was. Not to mention rather distracted. Distantly he wondered if VR-LA was actually planning on shooting through him, but for a moment he was too caught staring, not even acknowledging the blade slicing toward him.

The moment of slowed stillness was broken as VR-LA let off his spell, and brilliant blue blasted beside Maxim, right through Vlaakith’s chest, arcing along her metal armour. Despite feeling the intense heat from the lightning bolt, not a hint of it struck Maxim. He looked in the direction it came from, and saw a small floating orb. Mechanical and spectral, marked with the same ringed swirls that decorated VR-LA’s plating. It still sparked with energy, and made a positive sounding buzz as Maxim noticed it. He swayed on his feet, relief hitting him, as the lich staggered to recover. Glancing back at the wizard, he met his now golden eyes, still glittering with leftover magic. They flicked into a bright smile shape, and VR-LA winked at him. The wizard, bloody and near dead on his feet, the air around him charged with energy, the lich he had just struck still recovering from his blow, winked at him. Playful and pleased, like they both weren’t maybe about to die. Maxim shook his head in disbelief, ignoring the way his faceplate grew hot. 

He took a few hurried steps back from his opponent as she drew herself up again. Smoke curled from her skin, her own and others blood splattered across her armour, but she did not falter yet. Behind them Kyana struggled, trying to pull herself from her paralysis but not yet able to. Vlaakith glared at VR-LA, but it was Dani she turned to with a snarl. Magic mounted, its weight tangible and bone chillingly cold as she opened her mouth, a word forming black and dreadful on her tongue. It was no arcane muttering, nor threatening command, but rather calm and blunt and horribly simple.

“Die.”

Maxim’s eyes widened as the word sharpened into a deadly point, leaping from her mouth and gathering momentum on its terrifyingly short path to the artificer. VR-LA threw out a hand, the playfulness from a moment ago vanishing as he grasped at the spell, his own command forming in denial of her magic, the Weave fighting against itself. The power word travelled in an arcane mockery of one of Dani’s bullets, shattering each of the wizard’s attempts to stop it, bright bursts like shattering glass as the Weave continued to break under the magnitude of the spell. VR-LA clenched his fist, the threads catching alight, twisting and unravelling the word upon the Weave, its blackened point shot through with silver, until with a final shatter, something broke. The crack echoed in Maxim’s audio processors, and he felt his own power shiver with the aftershocks of what had occurred.

Dani stood, unharmed, the command sent to end her nowhere to be seen. She grinned, the veins around her eyes glowing like rifts of blue magma, motes of fire licking out from her lips as she raised her head in challenge.

“What was that, bitch?” She tilted her head as though trying to listen, and if Maxim were not so stunned he may have winced at her cockiness. “I didn’t hear you.”

She snarled, her angry but cold composure breaking as she shouted a harsh screech of rage, head snapping unnaturally fast to VR-LA. The glow of her eyes was focused into two tiny points of utter intensity as she threw her sword into the air.

“Alright, Magister, you’ve shown your stuff. I’ve had enough of you,” she hissed, and her blade shot across the room.

It travelled too fast for him to follow, too fast to be stopped. It plunged into VR-LA’s chest, all the way to the hilt. Maxim wasn’t sure if he made a sound, it was hard to tell over the sudden thunderous static in his head as he watched VR-LA’s body slide limpy off the point. Whether any noise he may have made was words or nothing but a desperate yell was impossible to tell. Despite the feverish ringing in his audio processors, the crack off the wizard hitting the ground echoed crystal clear and jarringly out of time with the ticking within him. He was still bound with the cage, never having bothered to leave. The black bonds around his body gave the impression of a puppet with its strings cut. Limp and lifeless, an empty doll-like shell. Maxim took a half step toward him, not sure what he could do but needing to do something. He faltered as the blade struck again, just barely missing the wizard’s powercore, but clipping it at the very least. The pool of oil surrounding him grew, too big, too deep, too dark. Too much to survive, surely. 

Kyana struggled in her own pool of blood, straining and straining against her paralysis to no avail. Dani just barely dodged a strike from the lich’s arcane blast, her fire sputtering. Maxim couldn’t move, only stare as VR-LA bled out on the floor. His eyes flickered, the barest glint of light still visible. The sorcerer’s joints were locked, old recollections of other dead or dying bodies coming to mind. Some who lived and some who had to be dragged back with diamonds and divinity. Some who, despite all efforts, could not be saved. Even by miracles. Even by the kindest of gods. He did not know if this crew had that power, and even if it would still work on VR-LA. 

The flickering grew slower, and Maxim finally found it in himself to move, footsteps loud and beginning to break from Mechanus’s beat. There was no time for balance or perfection. Not now. Now he could only hope to do what he could. He ignored the leaden fact that what he could do here was next to nothing.

The light in VR-LA’s eyes flashed one more time, then began to fade. Slowly but surely. There wasn’t a chance Maxim could cross the room in time.

Focused as he was on the wizard, he didn’t notice Vhas doing the same. The gith was far swifter on his feet, vaulting over a work bench and sending notes and ink pots clattering to the floor. Maxim couldn’t find it in himself to care. He hit the ground beside VR-LA, the knees of his pants going dark with oil, and pressed his palms hard against his chest. Power seeped into him, humming and golden, restoring the glow of his eyes and smoothing the ragged edges of his cuts, returning the shine to his scraped and dented plating. VR-LA’s body twitched, blinking rapidly as life returned to him. Vhas grasped the wizard’s arm to pull him up, and Maxim came to a halt as a wave of dizzying lightness hit him. 

VR-LA stood, unsteady but already looking better, the gith beside him readying his sword, standing between him and the lich. Maxim took a moment to just watch, systems still recovering from their few seconds of spiralling, letting the metronome of Mechanus wash over him once more. At the edge of his sight Dani teleported Vlaakith towards her, catching her in the flare of her fiery stride, then shoving her back with a well placed canon shot. Maxim shook himself, forcing himself to focus once more now VR-LA was okay. With a muttering of magic he sent a sharpened sliver of the Weave toward the lich. Distracted by the fire genasi, it caught her off guard. She flinched, just the smallest amount. It was enough to know that it worked, that her mind was just a little weaker. He brought his hands together, a thunderous crack ringing as he magnified the booming sound of Mechanus’s ticks. Blood began to trickle from her fleshless ears.

An arcane ward shimmered around Vhas as VR-LA pressed a hand to his crewmate’s shoulder, then stumbled back, away from the lich who still stood too close for comfort. Maxim saw Kyana finally draw herself to her feet, motes of golden light from Vhas’s inspiring power helping to sap away the paralysis. She took up her sword, haggard, a grim snarl across her face. Vlaakith pointed a finger at her, wearing an expression not dissimilar, and a dark beam hit Kyana square in the chest. For a moment Maxim thought she may be okay, as the blackened veins spread but she did not fall. But then her eyes glazed over, sword clattering to the ground, and she slumped to her knees. It was not death that came over her. Rather, a paling and sickening of the flesh, a rotting of the mind and body, an aura of undeath beginning to emanate. Maxim cursed under his breath, reaching for the pouch of gold dust he kept on hand, hoping that perhaps a restoration spell could spare her.

Meanwhile, Vlaakith’s blade flashed, her strikes deflected by the ward VR-LA had placed around Vhas and his own arcanely charged parries. Glimmering sparks flew from where her blade hit magic, motes of light splattering against the wet tiles rather than more drops of blood, until Vhas lunged forward. His blade, impossibly dark edge and blinding silver core, slid through a gap in her plate mail, puncturing with little flesh she had. He withdrew before she could retaliate, flourishing his sword in a dazzling deflective manoeuvre, then slashed right across the weakened point. Thick tar like blood dripped from her wounds. Vlaakith staggered, and had she been anything but the greatest of undead it would have been a mortal blow. She still stood, but Maxim was willing to bet it was by the barest amount.

As the lich reeled, Vhas sent forth another wave of gold light. Maxim felt some of his own wounds recede in severity, the shooting pain across his back  he hadn’t stopped to think about fading just a little. The clutch of undeath beginning to overtake Kyana was banished with the healing light, and she gasped her first steady breath since she’s been paralysed. Maxim turned to check on VR-LA, seeing him wounded but stable. Hurt, but alive. He took a step closer, only to feel his foot plunge into icy fog. It leapt up from the ground, smothering his senses, stealing VR-LA from his sight. His body tensed, waiting for another burst of pain, waiting to hear VR-LA’s body hit the ground.

Four sword swings sounded, some crackling as they bounced off magic, others accompanied by gasps of pain and wet splatters, but no heavy thuds. None came for Maxim this time, and he strained to listen as the fourth blow hit its mark. Kyana let out a growl. Light flashed in the mist, muffled but too powerful to be contained. Its rays pierced the grim greyness, like a spring sun shattering the grip of winter. At the centre of the blast, now visible as the mist was banished, stood Kyana, astral body bursting forth, plunging a clawed fist into Vlaakith’s chest. The lich was thrown to the ground, bones snapping and body already turning to dust.

She tried to push herself up, but her arms crumbled away beneath her. What a rasping laugh, more hollow than before, and snarled at the group.

“You’re better than I gave you credit for, but I’ll see you soon, and next time I’ll be prepared.”

Perhaps she would have said more, laughed more, but her tongue and lips turned to dust, face following suit, leaving only the faint after image of her glowering eyes for the briefest of moments. Her armour clattered to the ground, empty of all but ashes. 

Maxim stared at the husk, at the red and black splattered blood beneath it, at the dragon carcass scorched and rotting, at the eleven battle ravaged corpses around it, at the giant still smoking hole in his wall. He turned to stare at VR-LA, untouched by the lich’s final stand, still wounded, but still alive. He closed his eyes, and steadied the faint tremor in his hands.

He had much work to do, no time for that yet.

Chapter Text

Kyana slumped to the floor, saved from a painful thud by Vhas breaking her fall and enveloping her in healing magic. Hissing to herself, Dani stomped over to them, tugging on the chain of her planar amulet in annoyance. Maxim paid them no mind, focusing on VR-LA as he crossed the space between them. He was watching his crew, a relieved flicker to his eyes and shoulders slumped. Careful not to startle him, Maxim placed a hand on his back. A pleased thrum of electricity sparked through him as VR-LA leant into it for support.

The wizard turned enough to face him, hands finding their way to the patinated marks from Vlaakith’s withering magic which marred his gold plating. The touch was gentle, and before Maxim could speak the Weave glimmered. As though stitching together a tear in a tapestry, the threads of his being repaired themselves. Some of the black faded. VR-LA continued to search for injuries, wandering hands sending arcs of lightning through Maxim’s plating.

Sounding steadier than he felt, he managed to speak, looking over VR-LA as he did. “How fare you—“

“Are you alright?”

They both paused, stalling as they spoke over each other, gesturing for the other to reply first and neither of them doing so. Eventually, Maxim cleared his throat, giving a nod.

“I am mostly well, still wounded but nothing fatal or too damaging, I don’t believe. You, on the other hand…” Maxim looked down at the slashes across his chest, partially healed but still gaping, “You need healing.”

VR-LA shrugged. “Well, yes, but rest will do me just as well.”

“VR-LA—” Before Maxim could berate him, the wizard pressed his hand against his wounds, that same reweaving of his body occurring with a flicker of threads. He was still hurt, but at least now it did not seem like his mechanics may fall out.

He gave a small smile. “Better?”

“I suppose it will do for now,” Maxim sighed, voice gruff to hide his concern, which was pointless given how he had stepped even closer to continue supporting the wizard. 

VR-LA didn’t pull away from Maxim’s arm around him, but did turn to scan his crew. He smirked as Vhas wandered over to Vlaakith’s dusty remains, nodding at the pile.

“She left behind some nice armour though, perfectly gith sized no less!” He called, and Maxim tried not to think about how VR-LA was starting to lean into his chest as he relaxed. The weight helped keep him grounded in the abating rush of stress.

Vhas picked up the jagged breastplate, nodding approvingly. “Alright, yeah.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll grow into it,” Dani snickered, receiving a faux hurt look from the gith.

“I want that elven chain back then!” VR-LA said sternly, glaring at Vhas. He startled Maxim from the post battle reverie he’d reached, lost in the fading electric fuzz of his overcharged circuits and the comforting touch of a friend. He returned to himself, tightening his hold and shaking his head at the carnage.

Steam swirled around him as he chucked, the sound broken with relief and shock as he stared at the bodies strewn across his workshop. “You have made rather powerful enemies it would seem. Even in my time, I do not know that my friends and I have ever upset anyone quite as… thoroughly as you have.”

Kyana piped up from where she was half sitting half lying on the floor, “Was that about anything specific? Or was she just mad on principle?”

“Is she mad on principle?” Maxim said incredulously, eyes wide.

Dani sighed as she staunched her wounds, smoking blood staining the scraps of fabric she used. “You remember when we broke into the gith capital city? And broke out their most important prisoners, killed one of their high ranking leaders, continued to carry their weapons, yada yada.”

“There was also ruining her project, and she wants my title, and Vhas is a betrayer, and then Dani and I figured out how to… Well, you know,” VR-LA said, pulling away from Maxim to take his own weight, much to the sorcerer's disappointment.

“Okay, so it was less nothing specific and more way too many specific things.” Kyana nodded to herself, satisfied and still lying in her blood.

“Yeah, on top of all that mate, she’s also a raging bitch.” Vhas tugged at the breastplate's straps, trying to secure it around him. “How do I put this on? Is this— I think this is on backwards?”

VR-LA shook his head at the gith, before turning back to Maxim, the tilt of his eyes jesting but tense. “I know I tend to sound dramatic, but I was not exaggerating when I tried to impress upon the gravity of the situation.”

“Very well, now let me see what I may do.” Maxim nodded, going to turn toward his treasury before VR-LA caught his arm.

He glanced back as the wizard shifted, expression tense as he tilted his head at the carnage. “Regardless… this location has now been compromised.”

Maxim followed his gaze to the hole in his wall, the metal only just beginning to cool to a darker red, rubble and blood strewn across the floor. The light of Mechanus spilled into the unprotected space, catching on the lich’s ashes still drifting in the air. He froze, gears in his chest suddenly tight, constricting his powercore in a sharp and heavy ache. The temperature hadn’t changed, but somehow the crisp light made everything seem colder. More exposed. He suppressed a shiver as a crawling static sensation washed over him at the thought. Unable to look away, he took half a step away from the entrance.

“Yes…” His voice sounded distant to himself, taut and hollow, lost in the static buzz building like an oncoming storm in his mind, “It has.”

VR-LA tightened his hold, the gentle pressure of his hand around Maxim’s arm pulling him out of his impending spiral. “I have a potential fix.”

Maxim managed to drag his eyes away from the gaping hole in his sanctuary to look back at the wizard. “I’m listening.”

“May we… May we speak privately?” VR-LA said, and Maxim suppressed a frown at the growing nerves in his tone.

Nodding he gestured to the door. “Please, come with me.”

VR-LA followed behind him in tense silence as he made his way to the treasury, trying to distract himself by mentally listing anything he needed to retrieve, any preparations to make now he was so exposed. The tightness in his chest which had abated when the wizard took his arm was held back by his vague suggestion of a solution, but still, his gears twisted as he fretted. VR-LA had let his hand fall away, keeping a polite distance between them. It didn’t stop their shoulders or fingers from clinking together as they made their way. Maxim tried not to overthink the touches. They were likely accidental, the closeness caused by naught but concern. He quashed the urge to link his fingers with VR-LA’s, to feel the comforting brush of cool metal in his hand. Instead, he sped up his step.

The treasury door unlocked beneath his touch, and he guided the wizard inside. He paused at the entrance, and as silence strained the air Maxim busied himself with searching the shelves for the item he was after. VR-LA’s clothes rustled as he shifted in place.

The silence broke, and Maxim’s chest twinged at the nervous waver in VR-LA’s voice. “So, the main reason we came to you was because of the uh, fuel and speed problem that we had in the Per Aspera. But there was another reason.”

The sorcerer glanced up as VR-LA stepped beside him, the pages of his spellbook rustling as he flipped through them. The worn but well kept tome was full of neat print and impeccably drawn spell circles, the parchment sliding past the wizard’s fingers. The ink was the same deep blue staining the scratches and grooves in them. He settled on a page and turned it for Maxim to view. Their shoulders pressed together as he stepped closer to read. Before he could abort the motion VR-LA leant into it. Frozen for a moment, he then raised his hand to rest on the small of the wizard’s back.

While he was no master spell scriber like VR-LA, even he could recognise just how ancient the runes before him were, the archaic formation of the spell circle, the weight the magic seemed to imprint upon the page. At its base, in perfect print, was a title. 

Create Spelljamming Helm

Maxim’s eyes widened, and he turned to VR-LA. He wasn’t able to keep the fondness or pride out of his voice, overshadowing even his fascination. “Busy indeed. The Lady of Magic chose wisely when she selected you it seems. This is to my knowledge two spells long forgotten that you are now in possession of, unless there is more that I am not aware of.”

“If that is the case then I am also unaware of them.” Maxim huffed, momentarily forgetting his search as VR-LA turned to look at him. They were so close, side by side like this. Bloodied but safe within one of the most secure parts of his home. His metal simmered, chest tight, as the wizard reached out to take his wrist. “But you seem partial to this location, to this place, and it seems that you have created… You’ve done quite a bit of work to make it your own. Let’s say, hypothetically this location would not be compromised if the location could… move.”

It took him a moment to process the implication, distracted by the touch and the wizard’s infectious nervous hope. His eyes widened when he did, flat expression breaking.

“I follow your train of thought,” he glanced at the walls of his home, trying to fathom the veritable citadel flying through space, “There are… certainly stranger vessels out there.” Shock faded to a peculiar jittery feeling. Not dissimilar to the static of his earlier nerves but not as shiver inducing. It was brighter, warmer. It took him a moment to identify as excitement. He spoke slowly, trying to process the thought of… leaving. “Perhaps it is time I got to see more of the worlds. It has been many years and I don’t know if I am ready to explore it as deeply as it deserves but, a first step?”

VR-LA’s eyes brightened, and though he did not quite smile there was a softness to his stare. He gave a nod, something like approval and maybe even pride in the action.

“Well, this is but on half of a transaction, I have—”

Maxim sighed, the excited spark dimming at his words. He would be glad to help VR-LA in turn but… such an action as this being reduced to business? For the first time in a long while he could honestly admit to disliking the thought. He shook his head, muttering to himself more than the wizard. “Ah, no more of that.”

VR-LA tilted his head at the quiet words. His eyes flickered, Cleary unsure whether to feel nervous or flattered at the development. His tone reflected the same conflict in its stiltedness. “Then, I have a favour to ask of you.”

Maxim bowed his head. He pressed a little firmer where his hand rested at the wizard’s back, hoping it conveyed the notion he wanted it to. “Well, I am always at your service. What may I do?”

“I was speaking genuinely when I expressed the idea of,” VR-LA paused, his words slow and purposeful, eyes fixed on the ground and fiddling with the corner of his spellbook as he thought them over, “Continuing on adventures less dangerous than the one I’m currently on, and I’ve also expressed that it’s a lesson I have yet to fully learn. You seem well learned in this regard, and… I was wondering if you would at least, help me, as far as learning how to take a step back. It seems like a lesson you have learned. But also, I worry that it’s a lesson that cost you a great deal to learn. It gladdens me to hear that you are now expressing an interest in moving past the bounds of this sanctuary. Perhaps, there is something we can teach each other, because—“ he cut himself off with a scoff, turning his head away and depriving Maxim the sight of his face. “Part of these few months has resulted in me attempting, trying, to take extra care and consideration of my crew, my friends.”

VR-LA pulled himself from his slump, seemingly bracing himself for what came next. Maxim’s eyes narrowed, wondering what could make him so nervous. The idea to squeeze his hand or pull him closer in an unspoken sign of comfort crossed his mind, but it just as swiftly was pushed aside. They were, still, associates. As jarringly misshapen as the word was, and though many lines had been crossed, those that separated the tenuous friendship he’d sought to eradicate and the more he’d vaguely envisioned were too distant to span. VR-LA seemed to resolve himself, catching Maxim’s attention as he turned to meet his eyes. His stare was firm, a low simmering amber, but the nerves still showed in the tension of his eyes.

“I would just like to express that if you need help, you have mine. In fact I want to help, and— because, even though you um, may not necessarily seem so, and try as I might to reciprocate that, I still consider you a friend.”

His voice grew quieter toward the end, as though he was trying to say it as gently as possible and also get out of saying it at all. He held Maxim’s stare, waiting for a response. Something must have flickered across the sorcerer’s face because VR-LA stiffened. It might have been guilt or relief or fondness or maybe something else. There was too much behind the tightness in his chest to identify one source.

Throwing aside his earlier reserve, he stepped in front of the wizard, gently removing the book from his hands so he could take them instead. They were thinner than his own, more neat and dexterous, and his fingers fit flush when threaded through his own. He squeezed them, trying not to get distracted by the feeling.

“My friend, it would dishearten me to think that you would ever believe otherwise. I know things have been strained, they are indeed because of…” Because of his choices, VR-LA’s choices, incompatible ideologies and his own inability to look past the gaping abyss that ought to be behind him by now, he mused to himself. Instead of saying such he shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor for but a moment. “Well, another day, but, you are correct. I learned my lesson through great hardship, and it is a lesson I learned perhaps a little too well. You have your things to attend to and I have a new situation I will need to adjust to, but the door is open when you are ready to return to me. There will be no password keeping you out.”

He figured the ‘please return to me’ need not be spoken. The way VR-LA’s eyes widened at his words, and how he lowered his head in assent as though bearing the weight of promise, told him he was likely right.

“Thank you, and I suppose since uh, time is… the situation I think kind of dictates, if you wish to avail of this,” he tapped the cover of his spellbook, drawing Maxim’s eye to the curious juxtaposition of his gold tipped finger glinting over scuffed and if was correct, mildly bloodied leather, “You have to admit it’s a decent compromise of leaving your house and, you know.” He gestured to the sanctum as a whole, watching Maxim from the corner of his eye.

“It is quite clever indeed,” he hummed, freeing his hands hovering awkwardly as he debated pulling him close or going for a simple pat on the shoulder. He did neither, drawing back with a stiff nod and turning to skim his fingers over the cold edges of the shelves. “I believe I should have the materials necessary for doing such a task, somewhere…”

He scanned the shelves, turning through the many clicking cogs of his mind to remember exactly where he’d placed his more impractical treasures. While there were no small number of magic or magic related items in the room the space glittered with gold and gems and strange curiosities picked up from a lifetime of delving into places he most certainly didn’t belong. With a click of recognition he reached above his head. Pushing aside an old iron flask inscribed with a series of incepted triangles he pulled a dish from behind it. He fished out a two fingered ring, holding it in his palm for a second too long.

They’d found it in a tomb, a long time ago. They were younger then, less experienced, and Flint had strolled on into a trap and been left choking on a noxious violet vapour, leaving Maxim as the only non-respiratory member to drag him out to safety. The memory passed in a flash. He clenched his fist and gestured to VR-LA to search the shelves for whatever components he’d need. His hand flexed around the ring as he watched the wizard search, the image of slim silver fingers skimming over the chiming rush of shifting coins colliding with the memory of more square gauntleted hands doing the same. How very different they appear.

How similar they were in the end.

He shook his head hard, steam blooming white and veiling in the air. VR-LA looked up at the sound, tilting his head. Maxim waved it off, waiting for him to finish searching. When he did, returning with a crystalline rod the sorcerer remembered prying from a glittering cavern of clustered gemstones, he swiftly moved to leave. Too much of the past was locked away in the room.

“Come, we shall attend to that task after I put to bed the one that you spoke to me about.”

VR-LA nodded. If he sensed his distress he neither said nor did anything directly, but there was a gentle hush to his tone. “With that we are in agreement, lead on.”

To compensate for the burning cold of the ring in one hand he hooked the fingers of the other with VR-LA’s. The metal hummed under his touch, warm and steady, smooth where gauntlets would be sharp. He thought nothing more of the action as they emerged into the ruined workshop. Though perhaps he left letting go too long, he thought as he felt the static prickle of eyes upon them. Whatever was in Dani’s flat stare or Vhas’s raised brow he likewise ignored, instead pressing the ring into her hand. It seemed explaining its spell storing properties and their potential to accelerate the ship was enough to distract her. When no one was looking he let VR-LA’s hand slip from his and took a respectful step back from the group.

She tossed the ring, eyes bright as she nodded to herself. Her reply became an indistinct hum as VR-LA turned to him again, the hand which had been in his now hovering by his chest. There was a soft look upon his face, eyes hazy and honeyed, but somehow stinging in their sweetness. Maxim cleared his speakers with a hurried cough, speaking before he had the chance. The rush showed in his faltering words, and for that matter, faltering thoughts. They could do nothing but crack under the fond warmth of his regard.

“Thank you for visiting. It will take me some time to repair the damage to my wall but even so, I think it, uh, might have been worth it in the end. I didn’t like that wall…” he trailed off, staring into the slowly turning cogscape, not quite seeing any of it, before snapping back to attention. His face was hot, but the wizard did nothing but squint in a smile.  “Sorry. VR-LA.”

“Things can be rebuilt, repaired, mended.” He stepped forward, his static hum pitter-pattering over Maxim's chest and shoulders. Slowly, he took a hand in his, squeezing it tight in assurance.

All Maxim could do was nod and let the spike of sparks calm. From a brief lighting storm in his chest to a warm glow. His clattering gears stilled, and he squeezed back. “This is true.”

Seemingly satisfied, VR-LA pulled back, taking something from his belt. “Uh, if you do encounter danger again,” he held up a glinting golden stone, the pronged circle of Mechanus carved into its surface. A match to Maxim’s own blue stone, though his bore a star.

He pressed a hand to the left of his chest, where the weight of it was nestled in a coat pocket. “And if you are in need of anything I shall offer my assistance, simply call.”

“And I…” VR-LA trailed off, eyes following the motion, before snapping back to attention. “The same to you. Yeah.”

Maxim wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden retreat as the wizard took a step back, his attention fixed on the middle distance. He gave a stiff nod in return. As median as the temperature of Mechanus was a chill crept up from his empty hands, and he clasped them tight. Tight enough to stop him from reaching.

“Understood. Alright.” It was his turn to stall, something growing taught as they both retreated.

It was unceremoniously snapped as Dani’s voice grated against the quiet. “Just like, checking, 'cause we got punched by a giant robot last time the knowledge that was hidden for centuries was shared. A) are you giving away the knowledge of sharing a spelljammer, not saying we can’t share it with Maxim, just asking the question, and B) if we give him the scroll are we gonna get our asses beat cause we did just like fight the lich queen of the gith…”

Maxim looked between the two, the tightness in his chest vanishing at the news. He could surmise the kind of forces who would guard such a secret but… surely they could not have faced what they implied. VR-LA merely raised a hand to Dani for her to wait, his attention not straying from the sorcerer. 

“Well, if you want to get this over with now so that you can move, I suppose you simply need to choose what you want to be your helm,” he asked, gesturing to the room at large, twisting the faceted rod in his hands.

As he scanned the space, wondering what could be fitting for such a grand purpose, Dani yet again broke his focus. “There’s the big spiny orb thing in the corner?”

He sent her an unimpressed look. The planar armillary sphere rotated slowly around the blue green orb at its centre, the brass rings inscribed with sigils and glowing facets, faint light swirling in colourful chaos within them. “That is not a seat. It would be rather uncomfortable to fly via that. No.” He beckoned toward himself, one of his more comfortable armchairs drifting across the space to settle beside him. “I suppose this shall suffice. Perhaps there should be something more celebratory and dramatic but, time is short.”

At least his helm would be comfortable, if not grand. He glanced to VR-LA for approval, shoulders relaxing at the wizard’s nod.

The rest of the conversation passed in somewhat of an incredulous blur as the Per Aspera crew hashed out the logistics of casting the spell. Maxim found his focus jumping between them, each statement more alarming and baffling than the next. They had, indeed, crossed blades with an Inevitable. Given his nature he’d expected the confirmation to stir some displeasure in him, but if any surfaced it vanished swiftly at VR-LA’s shy shrug. Eventually, the matter was settled, and VR-LA stepped up to the soon-to-be helm. First, though, he called back to Maxim.

“I suppose one last thing, what would you like to christen your ship?”

Maxim tilted his head. “I’m not sure I take your meaning. Like drink? I do not drink or eat.”

VR-LA chuckled. The light huffs of steam glittered in the golden light streaming in. He turned back, and the sorcerer found sparks flurrying in his chest once more. “Every ship needs a name, Maxim.”

“Ah.” Naming things was… not a strong suit of his. In most cases he simply wouldn’t, and if he did they were of the literal sort.

“What will be her’s? Or his? Their’s?” VR-LA tilted his head, squinting in brief uncertainty.

“I suppose it shall suffice,” he said with an amused hum. “A name appropriate… Hm, well, Per Aspera is quite good but it is already taken.”

Somewhere behind him, likely still in the puddle of her blood, Kyana gave a rough laugh. Dani shrugged. “Well, there is a second half to that phrase.”

VR-LA sent her a scalding look, and for a second Maxim swore there was a flash of the now retired Finbar’s mannerisms in the action. “No, that one is also already taken.”

Dani merely shrugged again, leaning back against the table and waving Vhas over as the gith continued to struggle with his armour.

He stared at the floor, expression creased in thought. “It will require some deliberation. There are memories of names but tinged with bittersweetness. I shall consider it and let you know when I come up with a suitable answer.” A worthy name it was, but… his chest stung to even think of it. To hear his name uttered aloud in tongues not his own? Perhaps one day, but he knew it would not be one soon.

VR-LA nodded in acquiescence. “Well, ships don’t need to be named from the jump. Let’s do this then.”

VR-LA shook out his hands, the clinking echoing through the space, and Maxim took a few respectful steps back. With a sweeping motion and half bow, he offered him the floor. Watching VR-LA cast has always been a rare treat. Sure, he had known other wizards, but none with the same precise grace as him. While he may be somewhat bumbling, awkward, and mildly clumsy in other areas, not a flaw had ever been noted in his magic. The way he worked it now, motions more fluid and subtle as though pulling upon puppet strings or threading delicate lacework, was different to the more structured form he was more familiar with. But, no less beautiful. If anything he was more so.

“Please, after you. Work your magics, Magister.” VR-LA’s eyes slipped to the floor, a faint hum that may have been whirring fans growing in volume. Maxim couldn’t help the pleased glint in his eyes at the noise.

With no further ado, VR-LA stepped before the chair. In one hand he held his open spellbook, keeping a careful eye on the page. In the other, he raised the rod. Colourful shards of light rained upon the shelves and gleamed off the bloodied floor as its facets scattered the rays of Mechanus. The wizard’s fingers curled tighter around the rod. With a final steadying pause, he swept his hand in a wide arc, colour spilling across the room. A low hum built in the air, and Maxim felt his own magic tremble in his chest. The pitch rose until a clear high note rang forth, merging with the VR-LA’s arcane murmurings, his voice and magic becoming one and the same for but a second. VR-LA slammed his arm down, and it and the rod shattered.

Crystal and light scattered through the air, too bright to look at. Maxim covered his eyes on reflex. Though, he peeked out between his fingers. The spray of shards slowed, dragging through the air as though it were molasses, before accelerating right back. With a crack which shook the floor beneath his feet and left his head ringing, the light faded.

VR-LA stood frozen like even he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Before him, the wood warped into strange fractalling shapes and encrusted with crystalline shards, the upholstery glittering faintly with a dusting of mica, was the armchair. The helm. The arcane reverberation which had spread through the sanctum settled, and Maxim straightened.

For a moment, silence stilled the ship, all watching the helm hum in its new place.

Presumably, something broke it, someone spoke, and people moved, but Maxim did not. Maxim watched VR-LA. The wizard staggered back, eyes glowing white gold as he stared at his work. He conferred with his crew, muttered more arcane words, and eventually drew himself back, unaware of the eyes following him. The sorcerer’s stare only abated to glance to the helm. The chair sat still, but the air around it seemed to sing and spark with static. VR-LA’s magic lay heavy upon the space it seemed.

He wondered what it would be like to attune to it. To feel that power blanketing him, bound within the very walls of his home, moving at his beckoning.

Perhaps, it would not be so hard to fly.