Will

Since he had a busy night ahead of him, Will left at once to see to the preparations. He had made it to the doors leading out of the great hall when someone put their hand on the knob to keep him from leaving. Handsome, it turned out when he glanced over.

"Master One-Eye," the advisor intoned in his usual boring voice, "I haven't seen much of you around the keep lately."

"I've been busy," Will replied tersely. "Speaking of which…"

Handsome relinquished the door handle with one of his almost-bows. "Of course—I understand. I just wanted to let you know that I had been hoping to speak with you at some point in private."

"Right. I'll make sure to find the time for that."

"I understand that you will be busy tonight, but maybe you could come by my office tomorrow morning? You'll need to pick up your payment from me anyway, after all."

"Fair enough."

"I wouldn't normally insist on taking up your time like this, except the matter I wish to discuss with you is of a somewhat urgent nature."

"Tomorrow, then."

Handsome gave a bland smile, deep-set eyes glittering. "Excellent. Good luck tonight, Master One-Eye."

"Thanks."

Will left the keep in all haste, glad to be away from the little man. The 'urgent' matter Handsome apparently wanted to discuss was an added complication to his life that he didn't have the mental capacity to think about at the moment.

Coming down the hill from the keep after retrieving his weapons, the rows of barracks on either side were bustling with activity, overcrowded from the influx of soldiers Commander Thorpe had taken south with him. Even with the crowding spilling out into the path, Will immediately noticed the robot he had seen earlier milling about the wayside, looking rather lost.

Even though he was in a hurry, Will could not resist the temptation to walk up to the tin man. "Hello," he said as he wandered over, looking doubtfully up at the thing. "ADAM, was it?"

The robot turned to face him, glowing blue eyes regarding him with a blank stare. "Yes," he said after a while. "I apologize, but I do not know who you are."

"My name is Will. I was in the meeting earlier. Brimstone's, uh… assassin."

"Ah." ADAM extended a long, slender hand. "It is nice to meet you, Will."

"Likewise." Will shook the robot's hand. His grip was not hard, but there was nevertheless a disconcerting strength behind it. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look a little lost. Do you need directions someplace?"

"Thank you for asking." ADAM looked out over the city sprawl that extended below the hill. "As it happens, I am looking for potential sites to set up a new workshop per the lord's instructions, as well as a place to source assistants to upscale my operation. However, I am not entirely sure where to begin."

Will thought about it for a second. "Well, I'm no expert on things like that, but I do know a fairly accomplished smith in the city—Bogleg. I've got some errands of my own to run, so I don't mind taking you partway as long as you can keep up."

"That would be excellent, thank you."

And so, off they went. Will figured they must have looked like a pretty odd duo, and he found that people avoided him even more urgently than usual, leaving a wide bubble of empty space around him and the robot.

"So," Will said as they left the military compound and entered Topside proper, "I have to say, I've never met a being quite like you before."

"Yes," ADAM replied in a flat tone, the gears behind his face ticking faster, "I am somewhat unique."

"You called yourself an… Autonomous Domestic Advancement Module, was it?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean? You're like a house robot, or something?"

"Not quite."

"Uh-huh. I've got to ask—how does a robot get Concord access?"

"My creator was a very talented woman," ADAM explained. His left leg seized up at the hip, causing him to limp, and he stopped for a moment to tinker with the gears before something clicked into place and he kept on moving normally. "To create a simple automaton is no great feat—there is a skill specifically suited to it in Animate, after all—but to fashion an artificial soul is a feat that no one but her has ever repeated, to my knowledge. Even I, privy to all her trade secrets, have never come close to her mastery." He was silent for a few moments, then added quietly: "It is a monumental achievement. However, in this case, I find myself wishing she had not bothered."

"You regret being born?" Will asked, frowning up at the looming robot.

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"With the risk of sounding dramatic—yes."

"Why?"

Though his one-piece face plate was not capable of making expressions, Will thought that ADAM was regarding the people passing them by with some interest, his head swiveling this way and that to stare with glowing eyes at one pedestrian or another before they invariably picked up their pace to scurry past.

"My creator was a kind woman," he said after some time. "She had a great love of children, and anticipated a time when the goddess would allow the people on the Frontier to begin reproducing naturally. Indeed, she was tacitly promised as much by one of the angels.

"And so, she made me. The reason for my existence was to create toys that children could cherish and play with, so that when they were eventually born onto the Frontier, these things would be ready for them.

"This obviously did not come to pass, however. The goddess died, and my creator went with her in the terrible war that followed. This world will never be graced with the existence of children." The robot glanced over at Will, and he thought he could sense a sort of anguish in the frantically whirring components behind his face plate. "I am a thing with no purpose. A hammer in a world without nails."

Will wasn't entirely sure what to say. "That's… I'm sorry."

ADAM gave a slow nod, then looked away. "In my desperation, I have resorted to creating weapons of war, as it seems to be the only sort of toy that human adults are interested in playing with." He gestured toward the saber on Will's hip. "You know their allure as well, it seems."

"Yes," Will said somewhat sheepishly. "I suppose I do."

"You must enjoy killing very much, to carry around a bloody tool such as that."

"Not really. It's my job, that's all."

"I see. We are all slaves to our natures, I suppose."

"That's a grim way to look at it. But… yes—I can agree with that."

ADAM's innards spun faster, then slowed. His gemstone eyes flickered. "Do you think there is a meaning to it all?" he asked. "To a life spent killing, or a life spent facilitating the killing of others?"

"I think so," Will said after some thought. "It's worth doing a little dirty work if you get to be with the ones you love at the end of it."

"The ones you love," ADAM echoed. "I do not have anyone like that."

"Then maybe you should find someone."

"Maybe."

Will escorted the robot as far as the bridge crossing over to the eastern half of Topside, provided instructions on getting the rest of the way to Bogleg's shop, then went about his own business; headed south. He had to pay Nyx a visit in her new seafront hideout before he could go to the farm and collect his newest little helper for the night's activities.

* * *

Serene

She could not tell how long she had been this way; a shivering mess, trapped in some cursed halfway state between waking and dreaming, by turns burning hot and freezing cold, but always sweating regardless of her temperature. All her strength and willpower went into crawling out of bed every hour to spew out one end or the other, and her head always seemed to be thumping with a keen dehydration headache however many pitchers of water she gulped down.

Regardless of whether she was awake or asleep, they were always there; watching her, taunting her. Laughing at her, more often than not. They called her such terrible things, and they took pleasure in the fact that it cut her deep. Rather than becoming desensitized to it, it seemed to hurt worse every time they repeated some well-worn insult, like being hit in the same spot again and again.

The ghosts would never leave her alone again. She had come to accept that.

Then, all of a sudden, she felt the sun on her cheek. Its warmth seemed to part the clouds that weighed so heavily on her.

"Wake up, princess," said a gentle voice in her ear. "Wake up."

Reluctantly, Serene cracked an eye, found Ratcatcher crouched beside the bed looking back at her, his face whole and unmarred. She groaned at the sight of him. Somehow, his admonitions always stung the worst. She had no idea why.

She did not bother asking him to go away. It hadn't worked once—not with any of the ghosts.

"It's going to be okay now," he murmured, and stroked her cheek softly with his thumb. His touch was so tender that it made her gasp. "I won't let the others get to you anymore."

"I don't believe you," Serene whispered, her voice dry and breathless. She was so thirsty. At the same time, the very thought of drinking made her stomach turn.

"That's all right," Ratcatcher said. "Maybe you'll believe this."

Then he leaned in and kissed her, his thumb on her chin. It was that kiss again. The kiss. The perfect kiss that sent an electric rush through her whole body, had her toes curling and her eyelids fluttering.

It was an intoxicating feeling. She lost herself in that kiss, lost herself to that man's touch even though she knew he wasn't real. Every brush of his fingertips made her gasp anew, and as he got on top of her and kissed her more deeply, tears began pouring down her cheeks with relief at feeling anything other than pain.

She didn't know why he was treating her differently. Some small part of her was screaming in alarm, knowing that this was all part of some trick played at her expense, but she found that she did not have the energy to care.

"I love you, princess," he whispered in her ear.

He kept repeating those words, and every time it made her grip onto him more desperately, locking lips with his so that she nearly forgot to breathe. It wasn't real. She knew that. But what was the harm in forgetting it, just for a minute.

When was the last time anyone had said those words to her?

"Jesus Christ," came another voice; one far less sweet to her ears. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Serene jerked upright in the bed, sweat-soaked sheets clutched to her chest, and saw Will's grim figure outlined in the doorway.

"Go away," Ratcatcher said, sitting on one knee beside her. "She doesn't want to see you right now."

The Butcher's one eye swiveled briefly onto Ratcatcher. Then he sighed, held up a hand, and said: "Cancel."

"No!" Serene cried.

Ratcatcher's mouth opened as if to speak; then he burst like an overripe tomato into a shower of fading lights.

Serene sat staring at the empty spot where he had been, the memory of his kiss still buzzing on her lips.

"Quit messing around," Will said tersely. "You look better, so get up and go wash yourself—you stink. After that, I have a job for you."

Serene wanted to cry, but turned it into a low groan instead.

"Now, if you don't mind!" Will barked. "You can play pretend with yourself later—right now, we're in a bit of a hurry. We need to get to the city by nightfall."

She wanted to argue with him. Instead, she obediently swung her legs over the bedside and stood to begin shuffling around the room.

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