Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At 12 years of age, Maxwell Gotch knew that he did not like Christmas parties. They were too loud, too long, and too many people cooed at him and pinched his cheek and he wasn’t allowed to stop them. Christmas itself was fine, but the big parties his family hosted and attended every year were awful. This year his family was hosting a very, very large party, and the only reason Maxwell was even marginally looking forward to it was because his grandfather promised to give him his Christmas present early if he did.

The party was beautiful, lots of garlands, candles, and the tree was impeccably decorated, but Maxwell wasn't focused on any of that. He was more focused on avoiding Hatwell's constant flicking, kicking, poking, or anything else he might do.

Maxwell decided that he should introduce himself to the children of the other families who’d been invited, which would have the bonus of keeping him away from Hatwell. Maxwell forgot this endeavor when his grandfather arrived home in a big flurry of motion.

The Illustrious Cadswitch Gotch entered the ballroom with many large boxes being carried behind him by servants. They were green and red with big golden bows that shone in the light. Maxwell knew logically that these were for the party, but he couldn’t help but wonder which box was for him.

Longspot Gotch walked up to Cadswitch. “Father, I told you that you did not need to bring anything,”

“I know, I know, Longspot. But, the Great Professor Macleod gave me some things from the Wind Riders’ adventures that just had to be shared”.

Maxwell perked up. The things in some of those boxes were relics from the adventures of Comfrey Macleod and the Wind Riders… Maxwell might be getting something from those adventures. All of the jabs from Hatwell earlier suddenly felt worth it. 

Cadswitch had the two largest boxes opened to reveal mechanical rococo-esque dolls. They were tall and slender, and they looked like they were carved from crystal. They both had "outfits", if one could call it such when that was what your body actually looked like, but the style of their outfits was old enough to be historical instead of outdated. The doll made from rose quartz, if Maxwell was remembering the large geology book in his grandfather's study correctly, was dressed more masculine and the feminine figure appeared to be amethyst. They were both carved with a rococo silhouette for the clothing and apparent hair styles, but their limbs and faces were more akin to the posable wooden figures in his bedroom.

Cadswitch produced a large key to wind them up and once wound, the pair played music and danced a courtly dance together. Maxwell was utterly enthralled with the pair of dancing figures and walked up to his grandfather to ask “Where did the Wind Riders find them?” 

“Oh, Comfrey believes that these dolls came from Zood. They seem to function like a larger scale music box. You wind them up," Cadswitch gestured with the key, "And then they entertain". He squeezed Maxwell's shoulder. "Fantastic, aren't they? We don't have the large scale technical ability to create such things here in Gath. That's why Comfrey posited that they must have come from Zood".

Once the performance by the music box dolls was finished and they were put away, Cadswitch started handing out small presents for each of his grandsons. When he finally got to Maxwell the only present left was a larger box, not quite the size of the boxes that held the crystal dolls, but still taller than Maxwell. The box opened to reveal another automaton. This one was dark cast iron like a frying pan. Maxwell then realized that the automaton before him looked like one of the knights in his favorite book and felt silly for comparing them to a frying pan. He did not look like Maxwell's posable figures. He had eye slits like in a helmet, and articulated joints. Maxwell was particularly impressed by the hands.

He looked pristine, new. If Maxwell really thought about what a young automaton looked like, he imagined they’d look like this. No scratches or marks yet, but also no particular character to them. The knight was present, but didn't have presence. Of course, that could have been because he hadn't been wound up yet. But this robot was simpler… like a new pair of pointe shoes before a dancer has broken them in and made their modifications.

“Now, Maxwell, we will be sending him back to Professor Macleod after tonight, but I thought you might enjoy getting to meet a real automaton tonight,” Grandpa Cadswitch explained. 

Maxwell’s eyes widened in fascination. “Are they awake right now?” he asked, walking up to them. Maxwell marveled at the mechanisms inside the robot. They were still. “Grandfather? Are we able to-” Maxwell looked up to Cadswitch while pointing to the asleep automaton. 

Cadswitch grinned. “Absolutely, my dear boy. How about you do the honors” he said, handing a key over to Maxwell. Maxwell took the key and carefully slotted the key into the automaton and began to wind them up. Once the mechanisms were moving, he removed the key and the automaton’s eyes lit up warm red.  

“Hello, my name is Maxwell Gotch. What is yours?” introduced Maxwell, holding out his hand for a handshake. The automaton looked around the room and made a sound like soft trilling bells. He sounded confused. "Is that your voice?" Maxwell asked.

The robot nodded with an accompanying low toned ding.

"It is very pretty" said Maxwell. Their voice was made of the softest bells, ethereal, and dancing on the air. They were quiet but Maxwell held onto every note. He then gestured to himself and said “I’m Maxwell”. 

The knight studied him for a moment and then gestured at themselves responding with a melody. It was light, and almost haunting.

Hatwell walked up to the pair, and clapping the robot on the back of the neck a bit too aggressively to be called friendly, he said "Maxwell, you're seriously talking to a doll?" The clap was hard enough that something dislodged and the robot started to panic. Maxwell immediately shoved himself between them and Hatwell. They moved as if to respond, but no bells came. Hatwell had inadvertently disconnected their voice box.

Maxwell saw red. He lunged for his older brother and the next thing he knew Samwell was scooping him up like a cat while Cadswitch gently guided the automaton away. Maxwell scrambled out of Samwell’s arms and ran after his grandfather. He had to know they were ok. 

Maxwell followed them up into Cadswitch’s office and asked, “Can I help?” Cadswitch was stooped over looking at the automaton’s internal mechanisms trying to see how to reconnect their voice box. 

“Yes, my boy, if you could hand me your handkerchief for the moment”. Maxwell handed it over and Cadswitch used the piece of cloth to tie… something in place. Maxwell wasn’t entirely sure what, but the robot did look almost fashionable with Maxwell's handkerchief tied like a cravat at their neck. “The Professor should be able to fix you up, nice and proper, but this will ensure none of your parts get lost tonight”. Both Maxwell and the young automaton nodded at Cadswitch, though Maxwell wasn’t sure if the robot actually knew what his grandfather was saying or just understood the tone of “You’ll be fine for now, and better later”. Maxwell wished he was as good at conveying tone as his grandfather. 

A servant knocked at the office door, “Master Gotch, your son requests you back downstairs”. 

Cadswitch stood back to his full height. “Thank you, Clara. I’ll be right down”. He looked back at them. “How about you both stay here for the rest of the party? I think you’ve both had enough excitement”. Maxwell nodded and Cadswitch left to go back down to the party. 

“I’m sorry for Hatwell. I hate him”. 

The automaton tilted their head.

“He’s the one that hit you and disconnected your voice box, which sucks because your voice sounded really nice.” Maxwell froze at the past tense phrasing then corrected himself. “Sounds really nice. Present tense. You haven’t permanently lost your voice, you just don’t have access to it right now”. 

The automaton brought their hand up to their throat, their eyes dimmed as they focused on their internal mechanisms. He nodded to himself before nodding specifically at Maxwell. 

Maxwell took this to mean that they agreed their lost voice was a temporary affliction. Not sure fully what else to talk about now, Maxwell defaulted to a topic he was certain was, in part, caused by his guest’s appearance. “Are you interested in knights?”

He thought for a moment, before pointing up with a tilted head to indicate confusion. 

“OOooooh, sorry! Not the Night like the sky. I meant Knights like suits of armor,” Maxwell popped off the sofa and grabbed one of his favorite history books. Cadswitch Gotch was extremely fond of his youngest grandchild, and knew that Maxwell liked to hide away reading, so he kept books that might interest his grandson in his office. This book was about historical knights, codes of chivalry, heraldry, dueling, and more. Maxwell loved it, and it had beautiful illustrations. 

Dropping the book onto the coffee table, Maxwell sat on the floor, and opened the book to a page containing a knight in a suit of armor with a coat-of-arms shield. The knight’s armor was dark and gleaming, the coat-of-arms a black corvid on a white background. On the bit of the shield there was a twist of red. They knelt down next to Maxwell, pointed at the red, then looked at him.

Maxwell looked at the twist of red. “I believe that is the heraldic depiction of part of a coat-of-arms called a torse. The torse is supposed to be a roll of fabric that wraps around the joining between the helmet and the crest. Some of my books say that knights would use a favor given to them as a torse," Maxwell explained happily. 

They nodded, up until Maxwell’s last comment where they went back to looking confused. 

“Would you like me to explain favors given to knights?” Maxwell asked.

The automaton nodded, somehow looking pleased. Maxwell was just happy that someone was interested in hearing him talk about knights that wasn’t his grandfather or Wealwell.

“Knights would engage in competitions, and a way for nobles to indicate that they preferred one knight for another would be to give them something like this”, he said, pointing to his handkerchief on his friend's neck. “This has my name on it, so if I gave it to a knight, I would be showing that they had my favor during a competition. That’s why it's called a favor”.

The robot nodded, touching the cloth and gazing at the knight on the page.

Maxwell and the robot 'spoke' for a while. He fought to stay awake as the hours passed. He didn’t want to leave his new friend alone until his grandfather came back, but the warmth of the fire, and the gentle ticking of his new friend’s mechanisms, and the plush rug meant he felt quite cozy. 

He woke to chittering, whirring, skittering in a darker room with a banked fire. His friend did not chitter, whir, or skitter… something else was in the room with them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell spotted something dog sized. It was mechanical, but… 

It was a giant rat, a true RROUS (Robotic Rodent Of Unusual Size), and it was staring directly at his resting friend. Glowing orange eyes, whiskers that might be radio antennae, and jagged teeth that looked like they could cut through bone. 

Maxwell nudged his friend. Their eyes lit up in a solid red color, then flashed at seeing the rat. They grabbed Maxwell’s arm and immediately they running were out the office door.The party appeared to had ended, and there was a swarm of robotic rats in the ballroom. One of the fireplaces was still roaring with life, lighting the room in an orange glow. His friend pushed him to the wall next to the fireplace and gestured for him to stay put. 

Maxwell aggressively whispered, “What. Are. You. Doing? You. Do. Not. Have. A. Weapon.”

Blades expelled from their knuckles. One of the robotic rodents jumped towards Maxwell and his friend sliced it in half. 

“Never mind.” Maxwell corrected, still whisper yelling, and he stayed put. They nodded and started to cut down the rats.

The fireplace flashed, more rats spewed forth past Maxwell into the room. He looked into the fireplace to see a metal chamber that definitely wasn’t there earlier. There was a feminine Queen-like figure, with wires and cables connecting her to the chamber. She sat on a throne, and directed the rats. The Queen saw him, whipped out a mechanical arm, and snatched him through the fireplace.

The arm brought him up to the face of the figure. She was beautiful, a perfect porcelain face, but she had a fully mechanical body. There were rats everywhere here too, but the arm held him out of reach of their saw-like jaws.

She spoke to him. The Queen did not sound like bells, she sounded like memories of a language Maxwell could have sworn he had heard before. When he couldn’t understand her, she lowered him towards the rats. 

His Knight raced through the fireplace. Maxwell saw the Queen of Robotic Rats looking towards his friend. He had to do something.

Maxwell squirmed and threw his pocket watch at the Queen’s face. It broke and the shattered mechanisms left her blinded, allowing Maxwell’s robot friend to make a killing blow.

Both the Queen and Maxwell fell to the floor. His knight picked up the larger pieces of Maxwell’s pocket watch. The rats stopped attacking, too focused on removing their queen’s body. His friend held out his cravat, which Maxwell gratefully accepted.

They pointed at the handkerchief tied at their own neck, but Maxwell shook his head. “You’ve more than earned my favor. Keep it”.

The automaton stood straighter, and held out his hand. Maxwell took it and let his friend lead him. The portal from Maxwell’s fireplace appeared to be gone so the pair left the metal castle they found themselves in.

The area immediately outside the castle was a wasteland, covered in debris and rust. They walked, and walked, the land slowly becoming clearer. It never became green but color did shift away from rust and grime. This area was well maintained, and loved. Maxwell could tell from polished scenery. They continued walking until his friend seemed to recognize something. They walked faster.

The pair walked into a foundry. There were other robots there, of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Some were vaguely humanoid, like his friend with two arms and two legs, others were completely different. They all crowded the pair, asking a melodic cacophony of questions. Some spoke with clear notes, like what Maxwell’s friend had been doing prior to their voice being disconnected. Others clicked in a frantic rhythm, and others whirred. It was all very musical and Maxwell didn’t understand any of it.

“Hello, my name is Maxwell Gotch. My friend can’t speak right now. Can you please fix their voice?” Maxwell asked as politely as he could. All of the robots looked at him then one of them ushered his friend to a work bench. A smaller robot, with wheels like a train and short claw arms led Maxwell to a different part of the workshop. They sat him down, and their claw hand whirred and was then replaced with a brush. The small bot cleared off the debris caking his boots, and the soot from his clothes. When the cleaner bot finished with him, they ushered him up and towards where Maxwell's friend was being repaired.

He was animatedly telling the larger automaton repairing him about what happened, at least that is what Maxwell assumed was happening. He was just enraptured by the different melodies they were singing. The large maintenance automaton patted them both on the shoulders and loudly called out to the rest of the workshop which sprang into a flurry of motion and song.

It was the most beautiful dance Maxwell had ever seen, including the music box dolls. It started with the blacksmiths working the foundry. The ones pouring the molten metal sang like wind instruments, and the one holding the molds clicked like castanets. Then there were the workers slowly cooling the pieces in what might have been water. Their song was slow and careful, and some of their number also clicked. They slowly removed the pieces from their molds, revealing tiny gears, springs, and other pieces that Maxwell didn't fully recognize.

There was a flurry of activity from small automata that came up to Maxwell's knee. They checked every piece with cheerful staccato movement, just like the song they sang, and each one appeared to be checking for different potential defects. When every piece had been checked and cleared they cheered and handed it off to a very rambunctious group of jumping bots with extending arms. Some organized all the small components onto a work table and others were leaping around the workshop to prepare tools for the next group of automata.

The next cohort were all spindly. Each was hunched over at something specific and it was now that Maxwell realized they were making a pocket watch. The figures chirped like flutes while engraving, painting, and fastening.

The spindly artisans took each of their pieces and brought the pile to the work table which sat a small robot. They wound her with the key on the top of her head and she opened a compartment releasing dozens of tiny robots that swarmed the components. The mother bot's wind up key slowly spun and she sang and clicked a very invigorating song instructing her hyperactive child bots. Maxwell couldn't see the pocket watch under all the activity. The tiny bots periodically paused for more delicate parts like putting on the watch face, attaching the lid, and connecting the watch to the chain, after which they'd spring back into quick action. The mother's whirring slowed, her compartment opened up and all of the bots swarmed back inside, leaving a beautiful engraved pocket watch, chain, and key on the table.

Maxwell looked closer at the pocket watch lid. His eyes traced the lines of the engraving. There was a twist pattern frame that looked like a heraldic depiction of a torse, and inside that circular frame there was a lion and bird circling each other. Maxwell's friend picked up the pocket watch, chain, and key and held it out for Maxwell to take.

He tried to shake his head, but they gestured to the handkerchief still tied to their neck despite their repairs. Maxwell put the watch into his pocket, and connected the chain appropriately. He smiled at his friend. They sang a cheerful melody.

The pair looked at the rest of the foundry to see everyone singing and dancing. Maxwell swayed to it for a measure, but froze when he realized. They were singing a waltz… no it was too fast. It was an Utmannese Waltz. Maxwell knew how to dance an Utmannese Waltz. He offered his left hand and asked "Would you like to dance?".

His knight nodded, took Maxwell's hand, and allowed themself to be pulled closer to him. Maxwell led them into a reverse turns down the room, adding change steps to avoid the other dancers, and natural turns for corners. Maxwell found he really enjoyed leading someone who wasn't wearing a hoop skirt. His friend followed extremely well, and as they kept dancing Maxwell barely had to think to maneuver around the many bots dancing and spinning across the floor.

The song did eventually come to an end, and Maxwell had to let go of his dance partner. They sat down together to watch the celebrations. Maxwell guessed it had something to do with how his knight killed the Rat Queen, but he couldn't be sure. He yawned. The foundry was warm and welcoming and he was with a friend who would kill to protect him. Maxwell happily drifted off to sleep.

Maxwell tried to tell his family about his adventure in Zern with his friend. He told them about the robotic rats, the foundry, and his new pocket watch. His father scoffed and told him off for mistaking dreams for reality. Maxwell tried to present the pocket watch as proof but Longspot just told him off for lying about what was clearly a present from his grandfather.

Over the years, Maxwell started to believe that the adventure was just a dream, and that the watch and the key were presents from Cadswitch, but he never forgot. He studied history in university, but he also took elective courses in mechanisms and machinery. Maxwell learned athletics and more specifically gentleman fisting because he remembered how his mechanical knight protected him. They hadn’t needed a weapon. They were one. Maxwell wanted to be like that.

At age 29, Maxwell knew that his happiest Christmas memories were just a dream. He saw some automata and Maxwell's subconscious combined it with his interest in Knights. That was all. Maxwell Gotch did not go to some fantastical land of trinkets and mechanisms when he was 12, and he certainly did not become friends with an automaton. Maxwell could ignore the fact that his grandfather did not recognize his new pocket watch.

Chapter Text

It was becoming harder for Maxwell to ignore the fact that his childhood Christmas adventure was not a dream and definitely actually happened.

The Zephyr Mark 2 was flying to Oda to refuel and the crew was relaxing on the deck and telling stories. They were drinking and being merry, which they all needed.

Ludmilla said tipsily, "You know, I had multiple iterations as the Queen of Zern. Each time she died, they would build me again". She took a swig from her mug. "There was one time I refused to use Straka at all. I would just make mechanical rats". Ludmilla scratched Kočka's ear.

Torse nodded. "You kept the Biangle in one spot back then".

"I did!" She smiled, then looked at Torse, curious. "Why do you know that?"

He looked out to the horizon. "I was new and stupid and decided to sneak my way through it".

Ludmilla grinned. "Oh. My. Gotch. You're the little shit that killed that iteration of me! You were a baby!"

"I had help," Torse replied, defensively. Maxwell's hand made its way to his pocket watch.

Olethra sat up, "Wait, you guys knew each other?"

"I mean," said Ludmilla.

"You did brainwash me."

"Oh, come on. You killed me before, fair is fair."

"You were an evil dictator".

"A robot clone of me was an evil dictator".

Maxwell's mind was spinning at the realization that his childhood friend was Torse… his childhood friend who he had given his handkerchief to as a 'show of favor' that could also be referred to as a 'torse'.

"I have a tangentially related question". Both Ludmilla and Torse stopped their banter to look at Maxwell. "I know we've used the language crystal things, but how exactly do mechanical beings communicate? I can't imagine they'd have vocal cords".

Ludmilla quirked her head, before looking to Torse to answer. He thought for a moment. "Most automata now have a way of mimicking human speech, but before that we would communicate through…" he paused looking for the correct word.

Maxwell offered, "Music?"

Torse considered. "That's an accurate enough description". He appeared to narrow his eyes. "Why did you suggest that, Maxwell?"

Maxwell did not answer him and instead asked, "Why are you named after a part of a coat-of-arms?"

Torse froze. He saw what Maxwell's left hand was fiddling with. "May I see your pocket watch?" Maxwell handed it over. Torse examined it. "You know why".

Maxwell sat back in his chair. All this time. That "dream" had been real. His fanciful land of trinkets had been a historical Zern. His Knight was Torse, and Torse was his Knight.

Ludmilla looked at Maxwell intently. Her eyes widened and then Ludmilla swung her head back and cackled. She went on for over a minute, and only stopped because her sides were cramping. She wiped the teariness from her eyes. "You hit me in the face with a pocket watch!"

"I hit a robotic rat-themed dictator in the face with a pocket watch. Which was deserved. You were about to feed me to Giant. Robot. Rats." Maxwell argued.

Olethra held her arms out, "Time out. What's going on?"

Ludmilla explained, "Baby Torse snuck into my castle back when the Robot Queen me was obsessed with making rats. He went through the Biangle to Gath, I sent my rats after him, apparently kidnapped Maxwell in the process which then resulted in Torse killing robot me with his help".

"And what was with that exchange about robot communication and Torse's name?" Olethra add, still confused.

Ludmilla looked to the pair. The pair looked at each other. Maxwell responded bluntly, "I genuinely thought that whole experience was a dream so I was checking if what I remembered was accurate".

Olethra gawked. "You thought a trip to Zern was a dream?"

"In my defense, it was extremely different back then… actually no. Around the castle was basically the same. Everywhere else was different, and every robot I met was musical except for Ludmilla".

Marya nodded, "That makes sense to me".

"Now Max, Torse, y'all still haven't explained the name question" prompted Daisuke.

"Zernian's don't speak human languages naturally. We have to augment ourselves, and our names don't translate well so we would pick a name in a human language. I chose my name from a conversation I had with Maxwell".

Marya narrowed her eyes. "But why did you bring up coat-of-arms?"

Van's eyes widened. "A torse is a twist of fabric wrapped around the connection between a helmet and a crest. Some old stories say that nobles would gift knights pieces of recognizable fabric to use for their torse during competitions to show their favor," she remembered.

Maxwell swallowed. "I mean, he more than earned it".

"So Torse is named Torse because Baby Maxwell infodumped about Knights?" Olethra clarified.

Maxwell and Torse looked at each other. They thought about the handkerchief Maxwell gave Torse.

"Yes, that is why" answered Torse. Maxwell nodded in agreement. The two of them needed to have a long conversation before they told other people the details of what happened back then.