Mikros Leonidas's Arc

Chapter 3 of 11

Cassandra's workshop smelled of oil and hot brass. Contraptions filled every shelf. Half-built machines hung from the ceiling on chains. Mikros stood on a stool so he could see her workbench. Cassandra spread armor patterns across the wood and frowned. "None of these fit you," she said. "They start too big. I need your true measurements, every one." She pointed her brass device at him. It clicked and failed. The smallest setting still read wrong. She tried a cloth tape and lost her place. She tried calipers meant for horses. Mikros stood patient, arms out, while she muttered and started over. An hour passed. The patterns stayed useless. "I can't forge what I can't measure," she said. "Standard tools don't go this small." A crash came from the back of the shop. Mikros spun. A huge shape burst through a curtain of tools. It was a creature of black charcoal skin, cracked and glowing orange along the cracks. Its chest and arms were enormous. Its head was tiny. It rode a machine built like a giant spider, six brass legs clicking on the floor. Purple fluid dripped from its fingers. "Maxx," Cassandra groaned. "I told you to knock." She turned to Mikros. "My assistant. Builds the walking rigs. Wrecks half of them too." Maxx swung down from the spider machine. The rig folded its legs and settled. Mikros stared at the thin brass limbs, each one jointed and exact. An idea hit him. "That machine measured its own legs," he said. "To move like that, it had to know its size perfectly." Cassandra froze. She looked at the spider rig, then at Mikros. "The sensors," she whispered. "They read distance down to a hair." She grabbed a small brass sensor off the rig and pried it loose. Maxx made a low, rattling sound, unhappy. "I'll build you a new one," Cassandra told the creature. "This little Spartan comes first." She fixed the sensor to a wand. Maxx held the spider rig steady while she worked. The tiny creature-head tilted, watching Mikros with a strange, patient calm. Cassandra passed the wand over Mikros head to toe. Numbers scrolled across a small dial. She copied them fast onto fresh paper. This time the marks fit. Shoulders, arms, the short strong legs, all exact. Cassandra held up the finished measurements and laughed. "I have you now," she said. "Every inch. No pattern needed. I'll build gear from scratch, made only for you." She began cutting a new template on the spot. Mikros climbed down from the stool. He had his true measurements at last. But Maxx stood by the broken rig, glowing cracks pulsing, one sensor gone. The creature fixed its small eyes on Mikros and did not look away. Cassandra could forge his armor now. Yet he had taken something from the charcoal creature, and he did not know what it would want in return.