In the dead of night, a single building illuminated the otherwise pitch-black streets of an unknown city. Its towering chimneys belched thick clouds of smoke into the starless sky, forming endless columns that pierced the heavens. Inside, the air was stiflingly hot, heavy with the metallic tang of molten steel. Countless furnaces roared, feeding an army of mechanical contraptions that tirelessly churned out weapons and armor along an assembly line.

  A middle-aged woman with graying chestnut hair scrutinized the stream of armaments being produced. Her practiced eye caught every flaw, her hands quick to discard subpar pieces. Suddenly, a thunderous clap echoed from the workshop's entrance, shaking the entire building.

  Middle-aged woman: "Dammit...!"

  Red warning lights bathed the workshop in an ominous glow. At the counter near the entrance, two mechanical turrets whirred to life, aiming at a grey portal that materialized out of thin air. From the portal stepped an elderly man, calm amidst the chaos.

  A crackling voice burst from the workshop's overhead speakers, laced with static.

  Young girl: "Stay very still, old man! Move a muscle, and I'll turn you into a very dead, very wrinkly strainer!"

  The older woman rushed to the entrance as fast as she could, but it seemed she was too late. A loud clattering soon followed as the turrets malfunctioned, parts flying across the workshop floor.

  Middle-aged woman: "Foolish girl..."

  Young girl: "Crap! I thought they'd work this time...!"

  From beneath the counter, a young girl popped into view. Her wild ginger hair poked out beneath a welder's mask, and she clutched a makeshift rifle -- an unsteady twin of the turrets she'd cobbled together. She aimed the rifle at the intruder, her stance defiant.

  Young girl: "Who are you, and how the hell did you get here?!"

  The old man chuckled softly.

  Ballo: "Are you sure you want to use that? Look what happened to your other 'thingamajigs.'"

  The girl froze, lowering her rifle at the sound of his voice.

  Young girl: "... Owl?!"

  Ballo: "Not anymore. Is your teacher here?"

  She perked up proudly, lifting her chin.

  Young girl: "Ah-ah! Not my teacher anymore either -- I graduated! Well..."

  She glanced at the pile of broken metal pieces scattered across the floor.

  Young girl: "... barely."

  From the corner of the workshop came the older woman, her expression one of thunderous anger.

  Middle-aged woman: "YOU!"

  Straight as an arrow, her index finger points at the girl.

  Middle-aged: "How many times --"

  Her reprimand dissolved into a coughing fit, giving the younger woman a window of escape.

  Young girl: "I know, I know! Just a couple of loose bolts, that's all. I'll fix it -- sorry!"

  Gathering up an armful of broken parts, she bolted to the back of the workshop.

  Middle-aged woman: "We're not done, Rotavitea!"

  Rotavitea (Young girl): "What's that? Can't hear you, it's too noisy back here!"

  The older woman sighed deeply before turning to Ballo. Her sharp gaze softened, but not by much.

  Middle-aged woman: "So... It really is you. I can't remember the last time I saw you without your robes and mask. You look damn old."

  Ballo: "And you look as radiant as ever, Clavia! It's been quite long ago since we last spoke. Do you have some time? We ought to catch up..."

  She rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to follow.

  Middle-aged woman: "Guess I'll make some... Come on."

  She led him to a quieter room, far from the clamor of the assembly lines. They sat at a small round table, facing each other.

  Clavia (middle-aged woman): "So. I assume you're here to call in that debt?"

  Ballo: "Straight to the point, as always. I --"

  She raised a hand, cutting him off.

  Clavia: "Save it. You helped us when we needed it, so we owe you. Now, cut to the chase."

  Ballo studied her carefully.

  Ballo: "Is something wrong?"

  She didn't answer, her expression carefully neutral.

  Ballo: "I realize it's been a while since we've spoken, but as always, if there's anything you need..."

  He looks at her with kind eyes, not dissimilar from the eyes a father would look at his child with.

  Ballo: "You know you can count on me."

  She stands up, and reaches for the drawer of a nearby cupboard. From within, she takes out a dusty silver bell.

  Clavia: "Here."

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  She placed it on the table in front of him with surprising firmness.

  Clavia: "Take it back."

  Ballo frowned, confusion flickering across his face.

  Clavia: "If I didn't need it until now, I won't need it in the time I have left."

  Her words hung heavily in the air.

  Ballo: "Clavia... What are you saying?"

  She avoided his gaze, staring out a window instead. Through it, Rotavitea could be seen hunched over a worktable, tightening screws with careful precision.

  Clavia: "I've had this strange cough for a couple of years now... Seems the fumes have finally caught up to me. Seen three doctors so far, all tell me the same thing: my lungs are done for. I've got a year left -- maybe less."

  Ballo's hand shot forward, clasping hers.

  Ballo: "A year? Clavia --"

  Clavia: "Stop. There's nothing you can do. I've accepted it."

  Her voice wavered, but her resolve was unshakable.

  Clavia: "Just promise me you'll take care of Rota. She's almost ready to run the workshop on her own... but she's still a child."

  Ballo's face softened with sorrow, but his grip on her hands remained firm.

  Ballo: "Clavia... I'll do what I can. But I won't lie to you -- I may not be able to keep that promise. I don't know how much longer I'll live, either."

  Her brow furrowed, her mouth tightening into a scowl.

  Clavia: "What are you saying? What have you gotten yourself into?!"

  Ballo sighed, leaning back in his chair as his gaze fell to the floor.

  Ballo: "I've taken on something dangerous -- something that could very well cost me my life. That's why I came to you, asking for your help. I need armaments for what's coming, and I need *your* armaments."

  Her lips trembled as she shook her head, her eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall.

  Clavia: "Damn you, Ballo... You'd march straight into death and leave her to fend for herself?!"

  Ballo: "I don't plan to die, Clavia. But I have to be realistic. That's why I'm asking you -- please, prepare her for a world where neither of us might be there for her."

  For a long moment, Clavia said nothing, her jaw tightening as she fought against her emotions. Finally, she reached out and placed her hand over the bell.

  Clavia: "This bell... It was supposed to be my lifeline. A way to call for you if things ever got too bad. You said you'd always be there..."

  She pushed it toward him.

  Clavia: "Guess that's all the more reason for you to take it back."

  Ballo frowned and pushed it back toward her.

  Ballo: "No. Keep it. If there's even a small chance I can be there for you in your final moments, I want to be."

  Clavia's hand shot out, shoving the bell back toward him.

  Clavia: "I already told you -- I don't want you or Rota at my deathbed! You won't be there, I refuse to let you see me like that."

  Ballo: "Clavia -- "

  She slammed her hands on the table, standing abruptly.

  Clavia: "I mean it, Ballo! You won't see me die. And I won't let Rota see it, either. It's my choice, and you'll respect it."

  Ballo stood as well, his face set in a rare display of anger.

  Ballo: "You're as stubborn as ever! But if you won't use the bell, then at least give it to Rota. Tell her it's a gift from me."

  Her eyes flashed with fury.

  Clavia: "She's young, not stupid! She knows what that bell is for. If I give it to her, she'll know something's wrong."

  Ballo's shoulders slumped as he exhaled heavily.

  Ballo: "So you haven't even told her...."

  Clavia crossed her arms and looked away.

  Clavia: "And I don't plan to."

  Shaking his head, Ballo grabbed the bell and held it in his palm.

  Ballo: "Then at least let me ensure it stays safe. You may refuse it now, but someday, you might need it."

  Before she could protest, he cast a glyph over the bell, murmuring an incantation. The bell shimmered faintly before sinking through her hand and landing on the table below.

  Clavia: "What did you just do?!"

  Ballo: "I made it so you can't get rid of it. The bell will stay in this workshop, immovable, until the day you truly have use for it."

  He places it back in the drawer it originally rested. Clavia tries to grab the bell, but her fingers pass right through it. She pulls the entire drawer out, yet much to her surprise, the bell phased through the wood and stood still in mid-air. It was as if no action she took could affect it, as if it denied any attempt she made to interact with it.

  Clavia: "Damn you, Ballo... You've always been insufferable!"

  Ballo smiled faintly.

  Ballo: "And you've always been stubborn. I'm simply playing by your rules."

  Her glare softened as she sighed, defeated.

  Clavia: "Fine... But don't think this means I'm happy about it!"

  Ballo chuckled softly, sitting back down. Clavia, too, slumped back into her chair.

  Clavia: "Alright. Go on, then... Name your order already."

  Ballo: "Five full sets of armor: three leather, two steel."

  She blinked, the sheer scale of the request beginning to sink in.

  Ballo: "Five weapons: two swords, two warhammers, and a mace. And seven of those throwable devices you've been working on -- smoke and fire, both. I'll also need any spare armor or weapons you have lying around."

  Clavia stared at him in disbelief.

  Clavia: "Anything else? Maybe a siege engine? A battering ram?"

  Ballo allowed himself a faint smile.

  Ballo: "That should suffice."

  Her expression hardened.

  Clavia: "And what's your deadline?"

  Ballo: "Tomorrow. Preferably before noon."

  She slammed her hands on the table and stood up.

  Clavia: "TOMORROW?! Are you out of your mind? Even with every machine in this place running nonstop, it'd take a miracle!"

  Ballo spread his hands in a calming gesture.

  Ballo: "Then make it the day after. Morning delivery would be best."

  Clavia threw her hands up in exasperation.

  Clavia: "Do you hear yourself? I've got one apprentice, not an army! You'd better hope neither Rota nor I sleep tonight, or this isn't happening."

  Ballo leaned forward, his tone softening.

  Ballo: "Clavia, I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't absolutely necessary. Whatever it costs, I'll pay."

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath before sighing deeply.

  Clavia: "Fine. But it'll cost you a damn fortune."

  Ballo: "Name your price!"

  When she named it, Ballo's jaw nearly dropped. But he didn't hesitate, handing out all the coin on his person. Even then, it wasn't enough to fully cover the expenses.

  Clavia: “You’d better make good use of all this, old man. That’s enough steel and firepower to start a damn war.”

  Ballo gave her a small, tired smile.

  Ballo: “I’ll make sure it’s put to good use. But after this... I hope there will be no more wars for either of us.”

  Her expression softened at his words, but the weight of their earlier conversation still lingered. She glanced toward the workshop window, where the dim light illuminated Rotavitea’s hunched figure as she worked tirelessly on her turrets.

  Clavia: “You’ve always been one for lofty dreams, Ballo.”

  He chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his tone becoming more wistful.

  Ballo: “Sometimes lofty dreams are all we have to keep us going.”

  Clavia looked at him, frowning slightly as if searching for something in his face. After a moment of silence, Ballo straightened and clapped his hands on his knees.

  Ballo: “You know, Clavia... Once all of this is over -- when the battles are done, the debts repaid, and peace finally settles -- I think we should take some time off.”

  She blinked, caught off-guard by the suggestion.

  Clavia: “T-time off?”

  Ballo: “Yes. You, me, and Rota. We’ll leave the heat of this workshop behind for a while. Go somewhere open, somewhere green. Perhaps by the sea or up in the mountains. Somewhere quiet.”

  Clavia’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her hesitation.

  Clavia: “That sounds... nice. But you’d better not take too long with this grand adventure of yours, Ballo. You’re already stretching the time I have left as it is.”

  Ballo nodded, his expression unreadable for a brief moment. Then he smiled warmly, though there was a weight behind it -- something unspoken.

  Ballo: “Don’t worry. I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He rose to his feet, and Clavia followed suit, though her movements were slower. She placed a hand on his arm, her grip surprisingly firm for someone who had just admitted she was dying.

  Clavia: “You’d better come back to us, Ballo...”

  Ballo: “... I'll do nothing short of my best.”

  As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than it needed to. And as Clavia sat back down at the table, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that this goodbye felt heavier than it should have....