Chapter Text
"Come. Try solving this equation."
An elderly man with long white hair, neatly tied at the back, beckoned the girl across from him closer by curling his fingers toward himself.
"That one's too easy. We solved it yesterday."
The young girl walked across the workshop toward the chalkboard. Her beige bob hair bounced lightly with each step as she picked the chalk from the table and solved the equation in seconds.
The elderly man laughed. The sound echoed warmly through the workshop. He smiled and rested his chin on one hand.
"Seems I'm beginning to run out of things to teach you."
The little girl, named Sandrone, furrowed her brows.
"Statistically, impossible. You're Alain Guillotin, the Lord Artificer. There has to be something you haven't taught me yet."
Alain lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back at the little girl beside him.
"You're right," he admitted with a gentle smile. "But you're a remarkably fast learner. I can't even beat you at mathematical puzzles anymore. I've had to ask Pulonia to take my place."
At the sound of his name, a towering automaton with a canine-like face approached. Pulonia, dressed like a butler, walked over, carrying a cup of coffee and a cup of tea, and set them neatly on the table by the fireplace.
Alain walked to the armchair by the fire, sat down, and took a slow sip of his coffee.
Without a word, Sandrone followed Alain's example. She moved to the chair across from him, reached for the remaining cup, and quietly sipped her tea.
She wasn't entirely satisfied with Alain's answer, but he wasn't wrong. Lately, every mathematical puzzle they solved ended the same way: with Alain losing. Eventually, Pulonia, Alain's newest automaton, had quietly become her usual opponent instead.
"Then perhaps you could teach me how to build something like Pulonia," Sandrone said, glancing over the rim of her teacup.
Alain chuckled.
"Haven't I already?" he replied. "You've had access to all of my blueprints for quite some time now. You're studying them, and whenever you run into something you don't understand, I'm always here to answer your questions."
Sandrone fell silent.
He wasn't wrong, again.
She was already learning to build automatons. Nothing as sophisticated as Pulonia. Not yet. But she had managed to build several dragonfly-shaped automatons entirely on her own.
She set her teacup down after a moment.
"Then teach me how to drink coffee."
Alain blinked.
"...Coffee?"
Sandrone nodded.
"This one?"
Alain raised his cup slightly, tilting it as if to silently ask whether she meant the one he held.
"Yes."
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"Very well."
He extended the cup toward her without hesitation. Sandrone took it carefully, lifted it to her lips, and took a cautious sip.
The bitterness hit her tongue almost instantly.
Her brows knitted together and Sandrone shook her head.
"The bitterness lingers longer than tea. I don't understand why you enjoy this."
Alain couldn't help but laugh. He took the cup back before taking another sip.
"There's no need to rush into learning or liking everything, my child."
He paused for a moment. Alain looked at Sandrone, the smile on his face softening.
"You still have a very long life ahead of you."
Sandrone slowly opened her eyes.
Morning sunlight slipped through the gap between the curtains, spilling into the workshop. She remained still for a moment, quietly taking in her surroundings.
Somewhere along the way, she must have fallen asleep in the middle of her research. Instead of waking up in her bed, she found herself still sitting in her chair, several pages of notes clutched loosely in one hand.
Her eyes wandered to the chair across from her.
Empty.
The workshop was unusually quiet. Only the faint crackling of dying firewood and the distant songs of birds welcoming the morning disturbed the silence.
It had been a long time since Sandrone had last dreamed. Longer still since she had dreamed of Alain.
The man who had once filled this workshop with his laughter, his voice, and his presence had been gone for years now. Even in her dreams, his face had begun to blur around the edges.
Sandrone let out a breath.
She gathered the papers that had slipped from her hand while she slept and arranged them neatly on the desk. Everything had its place.
In the corner of the workshop, Pulonia stood motionless on the maintenance platform where he was always kept after servicing. He hadn't moved at all. He was probably still in sleep mode, waiting for his next instruction.
Before beginning the day, Sandrone quietly stepped into the washroom at the back of the workshop. She splashed a handful of cold water onto her face before looking up at the mirror.
A few loose strands of pale beige hair had escaped during the night, framing a face that still carried traces of sleep. Her long hair, usually kept neat and orderly, had become slightly disheveled after spending the night slumped over her workbench. Even the ribbon securing it had shifted slightly out of place.
Sandrone frowned.
Untidy.
She took a moment to smooth her hair back into place, retied the ribbon, and brushed away the remaining loose strands with practiced precision. Only after she was satisfied that everything looked presentable did she straighten her collar and give one final glance to her reflection.
Much better.
There was no reason to begin the day looking unkempt. It simply wasn't ladylike.
She returned to the workshop.
"Pulonia." Her voice quietly broke the morning silence. "Begin morning routine."
At the sound of her command, a soft light flickered across Pulonia's optical lens, signalling that he had powered on.
Their mornings had always followed the same routine.
Pulonia began by drawing open the curtains that covered the workshop windows before switching off every lamp now that the morning sun had taken its place. By the time Sandrone returned from washing her face, a fresh cup of coffee was already waiting on the table.
While Pulonia prepared to get some biscuits for breakfast, Sandrone picked up the papers she had left the night before. She stopped by the chalkboard one last time, adding a few notes about yesterday's progress before setting the chalk back where it belonged.
Only then did she step outside.
A well-kept garden lay just outside the workshop. It was modest, but carefully tended. Sandrone crouched beside one of the flower beds, trimming away a few dried leaves before watering the plants one by one.
When she finished, she made her way to the vine-covered pergola overlooking the garden.
As expected, Pulonia arrived shortly after, carrying her coffee and a small plate of biscuits. He placed them carefully on the table before taking his usual position a short distance behind her.
The routine had remained unchanged for years. It had been the same when Alain was still here, and it remained the same now. As far as Sandrone was concerned, nothing needed changing.
The only thing that had changed was Alain's absence.
She took a sip of her coffee. It was still bitter.
Years had passed since that first sip. Somewhere along the way, she had learned to appreciate the bitterness. For reasons she could never quite explain, it brought her a quiet sense of calm.
Once she finished her coffee, Sandrone returned to the workshop, Pulonia following silently behind her. She stopped before the long workbench, opened one of Alain's notebooks, and let out a quiet sigh.
Even without the mentor who had once guided every step of her work, she never stopped studying the countless notes and blueprints he had left behind.
Today's objective was no different from yesterday's.
To move one step closer to creating an automaton worthy of standing beside Pulonia. Once again, the world beyond the workshop ceased to matter.
She had barely reached for her pencil when three firm knocks echoed through the workshop.
Sandrone paused.
Her workshop stood on the outskirts of the city, far enough from the bustle that visitors were uncommon, especially this early in the morning.
She exchanged a brief glance with Pulonia. Without needing another instruction, the large automaton walked toward the entrance and quietly opened the workshop door.
Standing outside was a woman with pale skin and light gray eyes. She had long, platinum-blonde hair tied into two elegant, rose-shaped buns at the back of her head. The woman wore a black, lacy mask that covered her right eye. She was carrying a neatly wrapped box in both hands. The moment she saw the large automaton, a gentle smile appeared on her face.
"Good morning, Pulonia."
Pulonia answered by flickering his optical lens before stepping aside, silently inviting her in.
Sandrone looked up from the notebook spread across her workbench. The scratching of her pencil came to a stop the moment she recognized the familiar visitor at the entrance.
"...Rosalyne."
"Good morning." Rosalyne returned her greeting with the same warm smile she always wore whenever she visited the workshop. She raised the box in her hands slightly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Sandrone glanced briefly at the notebook in front of her before looking back at Rosalyne.
"You already are,” Sandrone let out a little sigh. ”But sending you away would likely require more effort."
Rosalyne laughed softly, completely unfazed by the blunt reply.
"I'll pretend that means I'm welcome."
Without waiting for another invitation, Rosalyne stepped inside. She had long since stopped waiting to be invited. Alain had introduced Sandrone to her years ago, and over time, visiting the workshop had quietly become part of her routine. Sometimes she came to check on them. Other times she brought tea, homemade biscuits, or whatever dessert she happened to bake that week.
Although they were only a few years apart in age, Rosalyne had always looked after Sandrone like the younger sister she never had. The habit began while Alain was still alive and, much to Sandrone's quiet resignation, never really stopped after his passing.
"I baked butter cookies yesterday." Rosalyne carefully placed the box on the corner of the workbench, making sure not to disturb the scattered blueprints and tools. "I made a little too much."
Sandrone looked at the box for a brief moment before returning her attention to the notebook.
"Thank you. Pulonia will probably finish half of them."
"Well of course, be my guest, Pulonia," Rosalyne said casually. It was clear that she was holding back a laugh.
Rosalyne settled onto the worn sofa by the fireplace as comfortably as if she were in her own living room.
Spring had only just arrived. The snow had long since melted, but the morning air still carried enough of winter's lingering chill to keep the fire quietly crackling in the hearth. Pulonia still tended to it every morning without being told.
Without receiving a single instruction, the large automaton quietly disappeared into the adjoining kitchen. A few moments later, Pulonia returned carrying a small tray with a porcelain teapot and a matching cup. He carefully placed them on the table in front of Rosalyne.
"Thank you, Pulonia."
The automaton straightened before quietly picking up the box Rosalyne had brought. He placed it beside the teapot, then returned to his usual place near Sandrone's workbench, as silent and attentive as ever. Neither Rosalyne nor Sandrone paid the gesture any attention.
Rosalyne wrapped both hands around the warm teacup, letting the heat chase away the last traces of the morning cold. After taking a slow sip, her gaze wandered around the workshop.
At first glance, almost nothing had changed.
The large chalkboard remained crowded with equations written in Sandrone's meticulous handwriting. Half-finished blueprints covered nearly every inch of the workbench, while the familiar scent of machine oil lingered beneath the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
The longer she looked, the more she began to notice the little things.
One of the storage shelves now held noticeably fewer spare parts than she remembered. The drawers Alain used to keep overflowing with screws, springs, and precision gears were only half full. A well-worn pair of work gloves rested beside an open notebook, their fingertips faded and frayed from years of use.
Years ago, Alain's workshop always seemed to have everything. If someone needed an obscure bolt, an unusual spring, or a discontinued regulator, chances were Alain had three of them tucked away somewhere.
Now, the workshop no longer felt endless. It simply felt lived in. Rosalyne lowered her cup slightly. She understood why.
Keeping Pulonia operational required constant maintenance. Continuing Sandrone's research demanded even more resources.
Rosalyne glanced toward the workbench. Sandrone had already returned to her notebook, pencil moving steadily across the page as though their conversation had already been settled.
"How have you been?" Rosalyne asked after another sip of tea.
Sandrone finished writing the line she had been working on before setting the pencil neatly beside the notebook. Only then did she look up.
"That's a broad question. You'll need to be more specific."
Rosalyne blinked for a moment before smiling.
"Just... generally."
Sandrone rested one hand against the open notebook, thinking over the question with the same quiet concentration she usually reserved for Alain's calculations.
"Nothing unusual has happened," she answered at last. "The workshop is still standing, and Pulonia is functioning normally. I'm functioning normally."
Rosalyne couldn't help smiling a little wider.
"I suppose that's one way to answer."
"It was the question you asked." Sandrone tilted her head slightly, sounding genuinely puzzled by Rosalyne's reaction. "Was it not?"
Rosalyne let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.
"I was asking about you, not the workshop."
"I am part of the workshop." Sandrone answered without the slightest hint of humor. She reached for her pencil again, absentmindedly rolling it between her fingers before continuing. "The two are rather difficult to separate."
Rosalyne lowered her eyes into her teacup for a moment, hiding another amused smile.
"...Fair enough. And your research?" she asked instead, deciding the question might yield a more conventional answer.
"The calculations weren't wrong." Sandrone said it as though the possibility had never crossed her mind. She turned the notebook slightly in Rosalyne's direction, revealing several pages crowded with equations and sketches. "The materials were."
She tapped one of the unfinished diagrams lightly with the tip of her pencil.
"I've checked the blueprint several times already. Revising it further won't solve the problem. The frame performs exactly as expected, but the regulator starts losing efficiency once the output gets too high."
She flipped to another page and pointed at a small note scribbled in the margin.
"I could replace it with a reinforced model, but those are considerably more expensive. Strengthening the frame instead would only create another problem. It would increase the overall weight, which means recalibrating the movement module, then—" Sandrone stopped mid-sentence.
She looked up from the notebook and found Rosalyne staring back at her with the polite smile of someone trying very hard to keep up.
"...Never mind." Sandrone quietly closed the notebook and sighed. "The point is, this design requires premium components. The ordinary ones simply aren't good enough."
"I should've expected your answer to circle back to engineering." Rosalyne shook her head with an amused smile before reaching for her tea again.
"I assumed that was what you actually wanted to know." Sandrone answered, apparently seeing nothing unusual about the exchange.
For a little while, neither of them spoke. The workshop settled into its familiar rhythm once more, accompanied only by the soft crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of paper whenever Sandrone turned another page.
It wasn't until Rosalyne set her teacup back onto the table that she seemed to remember something.
"Oh, right. I ran into Dori yesterday."
That finally drew Sandrone's attention away from the notebook. She looked up again, one hand still resting on the page she had been reading.
"...Did she need something?"
"Not really." Rosalyne shook her head. "She mentioned she's clearing out one of her warehouses tomorrow. Apparently she's accumulated more mechanical parts than she knows what to do with."
Sandrone quietly closed the notebook.
"A clearance?"
"So that's what caught your attention." Rosalyne laughed softly, unable to miss how quickly Sandrone had set her work aside. "Two days only. Mostly Fontaine-made components. Springs, chassis frames, regulators... I stopped paying attention after that."
Sandrone quietly tapped the end of her pencil against the page. The problem had never been the design itself. It was everything she still couldn't afford to install.
"Did she mention whether the regulators were reinforced models?" she asked after a moment.
"I have absolutely no idea."
"That's unfortunate."
Rosalyne let out a soft laugh. She watched the younger woman quietly. She knew that expression.
Sandrone wasn't deciding whether she would go.
She was already calculating how much Mora she could realistically spend without disrupting the workshop's budget for the following month.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Rosalyne's lips.
There.
That was exactly what she had hoped for.
Trying to offer Sandrone money outright would only invite an argument neither of them wanted to have. Information, on the other hand, was different. If tomorrow's sale happened to make maintaining the workshop a little easier, Sandrone would simply consider it fortunate timing.
Not long afterward, Rosalyne slipped her gloves back on and rose from the sofa.
"Don't spend the whole day locked in here." She brushed a few imaginary crumbs from her skirt.
"I still have work to finish." Sandrone's gaze briefly wandered toward the half-assembled automaton frame resting on the workbench. "If I stop now, I'll have to redo half of today's work tomorrow, which would be inefficient."
"I wasn't asking you to stop." Rosalyne smiled as she pulled on one of her gloves. "I'm asking you to remember that people occasionally need to rest."
Sandrone glanced toward Pulonia, who remained standing quietly beside the workbench.
"I do."
Rosalyne raised an eyebrow.
"When Pulonia brings me tea and cookies." Sandrone added after a brief pause, as though the clarification were self-evident.
Rosalyne followed her gaze toward the large automaton before letting out another soft laugh.
"I suppose someone's been looking after you all this time."
"...He always has."
The answer came so naturally that she didn't seem to realise she'd admitted anything personal.
Rosalyne's expression softened.
"I'm glad."
A few more words were exchanged before she made her way toward the entrance.
"Take care, Sandrone."
"You too." Sandrone gave a small nod before reopening Alain's notebook.
Pulonia quietly opened the workshop door for Rosalyne before closing it again once she had gone.
The workshop soon returned to its usual silence.
Aside from Rosalyne's visit, the rest of the morning unfolded exactly as Sandrone had expected. She returned to the blueprint spread across her workbench, making small adjustments to the frame she had been working on since the previous week. Every revision led to another calculation, another measurement, and another note filling the margins of her notebook. Whenever she needed a particular tool or component, Pulonia would retrieve it without being asked twice. The routine had remained unchanged for years, each of them carrying out their role with practised familiarity.
"Pulonia," Sandrone called without looking up from the blueprint. "Bring me an M5 hex bolt."
The large automaton immediately turned toward the storage shelves.
Sandrone continued sketching another support bracket while waiting. A few moments later, Pulonia returned and gently placed a bolt beside her notebook.
She reached for it almost absentmindedly, only to pause when she noticed the marking stamped onto the head.
‘M6’
Sandrone looked up at Pulonia.
"I asked for an M5, Pulonia."
The automaton remained perfectly still.
"...That's odd. The last maintenance only involved the movement module. I didn't touch the command parser. Could I have accidentally affected the voice recognition module?" Sandrone frowned while mumbling to herself. "No. Impossible. I always run a full diagnostic after every maintenance. If there had been an issue, I would've caught it."
For a brief moment, Sandrone wondered if she had made a mistake while recalibrating Pulonia a few days earlier. She set the bolt aside and walked over to the storage shelves herself, then pulled open the drawer labelled ‘M5’.
Empty.
Sandrone furrowed her brows.
She checked the drawer once more, then opened the one beside it, thinking perhaps the bolts had been sorted incorrectly during the last maintenance.
Nothing.
Sandrone raised a hand and swiped lightly through the air, summoning a translucent blue panel in front of the workbench. Rows of neatly organized inventory records appeared across its surface. She flicked through several pages with a practiced motion before stopping at the most recent entry.
M5 Hex Bolt
Remaining: 0
She remained silent for a moment, her eyes lingering on the screen before she dismissed the translucent blue panel with a quiet wave of her hand.
"So that's why."
Pulonia hadn't made a mistake. Neither had the inventory system. The workshop had simply run out.
Rosalyne's words came back to her.
A clearance sale.
Sandrone rested one hand against the edge of the workbench, mentally listing the components she still needed for her current project. Bolts, bearings, reinforcement plates, wiring, and several other parts had already been postponed longer than they should have been. Buying everything at full price would mean putting something else on hold. But if Dori's clearance sale was genuine...
After weighing the options for a moment longer, Sandrone arrived at the only conclusion that made sense.
“It seems we'll have to go into town tomorrow after all.“
Pulonia's optical lens glowed softly in silent acknowledgement before he returned to his place beside the workbench.
The following morning, Sandrone left for the city shortly after sunrise. Pulonia followed quietly behind her, carrying an empty wooden crate that would not remain empty for long.
She had never enjoyed Fontaine's commercial district. The crowded streets, the endless chatter between merchants, and the constant noise made every trip feel unnecessarily exhausting. Fortunately, Dori's warehouse stood near the city's outskirts, where delivery wagons came and went far more often than pedestrians.
The clearance sale had already drawn a respectable crowd.
Discounted mechanical components filled nearly every aisle. Crates of bearings, springs, gears, wiring, chassis frames, actuators, and countless neatly sorted fasteners stretched from one end of the warehouse to the other. Sandrone barely spared the signs a glance. She already knew exactly what she had come for.
Pulonia followed a step behind as she moved from shelf to shelf. Whenever Sandrone picked up another component, the automaton silently lowered the crate to make room for it before following her to the next aisle. Neither of them spoke. They had done this often enough that neither needed instructions anymore.
Nearly an hour later, Sandrone arrived at the counter, with Pulonia setting the heavy crate down beside her. The sound alone was enough to make Dori look up from the ledger she had been balancing.
"...Well, well."
Her eyes wandered across the pile of mechanical components until a grin slowly spread across her face.
"I was beginning to wonder whether you were planning to rebuild Fontaine."
"The prices were acceptable, delaying maintenance simply makes future repairs more expensive." Sandrone replied as she began placing the components onto the counter one after another. Bearings, power regulators, fasteners, chassis plates. None of it was particularly expensive on its own, but together they were enough to fill almost an entire page of Dori's ledger.
"So that's today's excuse." Dori chuckled to herself while jotting down another figure. "You skipped every premium component, picked the discounted version whenever there was one available, and somehow bought exactly the quantity you needed. Not one extra screw, not one extra washer." She closed the ledger with a satisfied tap before resting her chin against one hand. "Business hasn't been going very well lately?"
"The workshop is operating within its budget."
"Within its budget?" Dori repeated with obvious amusement. "That's the excuse people use when they're trying very hard not to say they're short on Mora."
Sandrone didn't bother responding. Instead, she quietly packed the purchased components back into Pulonia's crate before fastening the lid.
"If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving." Sandrone said after giving Dori a bag of Mora.
"Oh, don't be like that." Dori waved a hand dismissively before Sandrone could take another step. "I'm not asking because I'm worried about you."
That finally earned her a glance.
"I'm worried about myself."
"I find that explanation considerably more convincing." Sandrone sighed. "You have always struck me as someone whose generosity requires a measurable return."
"If you stop building things, you'll stop buying components." Dori gestured proudly toward the countless shelves surrounding them as though presenting a priceless collection. "And if you stop buying components, one of my regular customers disappears. That's terrible for business."
She leaned forward just enough for her voice to lower into something closer to a conspiracy than a sales pitch.
"So naturally, I have every reason to make sure you stay financially healthy."
Sandrone remained silent, neither agreeing nor walking away.
Satisfied that she finally had Sandrone's attention, Dori reached beneath the counter and produced a heavy envelope. The flap was sealed with dark blue wax, stamped with a crest Sandrone didn't recognise.
"Let's just say I know a rather profitable opportunity."
Sandrone looked at the envelope for a brief moment before shifting her gaze back to Dori.
"...What does this opportunity involve?"
Dori's smile widened.
"Tell me, Miss Sandrone." She tapped the envelope once with a finger. "How does ten million Mora sound?"
■ / ■ - Sunny
I dreamed of Alain today.
The coffee was still bitter.
Rosalyne visited. She brought butter cookies. Pulonia moved them to the tea table before I noticed.
The workshop has run out of M5 hex bolts.
Dori claims there is a way to earn ten million Mora. I have not determined whether she is exaggerating or simply being Dori.