Deus Ex Machinarium

Despite being dead-tired, he didn't sleep very well that night. He tossed and turned in his sleep and woke up a few times, haunted by a recurring nightmare filled with faceless Church officials and flaming pyres. In the end, he gave in. Lit a candle, by bringing his index finger close to the wick, and then pulled out the translations.

The bookkeeper did his job well. The pamphlet with advice was peculiar, considering its origin, but at the same time, its content was quite mundane. The scraps of the 'forge' manual though… The text was full of directly translated gibberish, yet he couldn't stop returning to it. Reading and re-reading the incomplete paragraphs. Comparing the originals with the translation. Always returning to that one with the locations of the "forges".

The locations!

As far-fetched as they were... they were something. Which was much more than what he had collected in the decades before. Although he did admit to himself, multiple times, that the Bank did consume most of his time. This lack of results for something he hasn’t been committed to doing was not surprising. That, and the looming of the Ordo Pro Cvirsi knocking on one’s doors always made collection of information tough. And expensive. That one tip-off on location in the deep forests of the South cost him a small fortune and a couple of favors.

But it seemed to have paid off well.

Or has it?

As always, doubts began to creep in. He wouldn’t be a respected and wealthy banker if he went after every apparition of excitement before him. Thus, even if Trawins hit the proverbial pot of gold with his hypotheses, there was no guarantee that any glimmering answers were to be found at the end of that road.

He rubbed his eyes and blew the candle out - it was already light outside. Tired of listening to the sounds of an empty stomach he decided to go downstairs and have Sabine cook something for him.

He ate a kingly breakfast and then spent the rest of the day in the corner of the main room of the “New Inn” mulling over the events and consequences. Again. The guests were happily ignoring his presence, busying themselves with cards, dice, and mead instead. They also knew, or at least instinctively understood, how much Brandt didn’t fit. Pestering people who looked like him had ‘trouble’ written all over, and so it was best to pretend they were not there. He returned the favor in kind either looking at no one in particular, staring at the ceiling, or nursing his drink.

Should he travel to one of the sites that Trawins pointed to as ones housing a na-no-forge… device? Installation? Thing? Like a blind chicken pecking at the ground in hopes of finding a grain?

Every fiber in his body screamed that he should. Every single one of them… except the rational one.

He was dreadfully aware that Sabine was watching him all that time, bringing some tasty morsels and drinks now and then. It was well past noon when the innkeeper waddled to Brandt’s table and finally sat heavily on the bench at the opposite side of his table.

-“ You zeem troubled.” - she said straightforwardly. He looked up from his tankard.

-” I have a decision to make.” - the reply came, followed by a heavy sigh.

-” Do it!” - said the woman in a chirpy voice. The Nord frowned.

-” You don’t even know what it's all about.”

-” I don’t need to. You are immortal. You have little to loze.”

Brandt looked Sabine straight in the eye, then he smiled and tilted his head.

-” And what if I want to, let's say, start an uprising? Dethrone the king?” - he said cheekily.

-” Well zen. As a law-abiding citizen, I will report zis. But do it anywayz.” - Sabine first grinned then stopped and blinked a few times - “You’re not going to really ztart uprizing, are you?”

-” No. I'm not." - he chuckled and then added in a mock serious tone - "Although I should. I hate this city.”

-” Hey!” - she pretended to be offended -”I live here! Zo do my zonz! Wait funfty years, hmm?”

-” Deal.” - duly responded Brandt then took a sip and looked away, somewhere above her shoulder. She cleared her throat.

-” Enouf jezting, tell me wat iz ze problem?”

-” You are. I listened to your advice.”

Sabine nodded and just gestured at the Nord, urging him to continue.

-” I’ve been to that tanai and he actually was of great use. He got those documents transcribed and translated. He did a very good job, to be honest.”

-” Ach, zee. Zo vhat iz ze problem viss it?”

-” Well…" - he paused for a few moments, gathering thoughts - "The documents contain details of three places of interest, which I feel I should visit.”

She slammed her palm on the table as if she was putting down the winning hand in cards.

-” Zo, we are back at ze beginning. Do it!”

He shook his head, scoffing.

-” Those places will take weeks to reach. I'd have to go through hostile territories, possibly get caught in some or other military campaign, maybe even a Vhirzug, if I'm to believe the rumors, all the while trying to dodge the Ordos, who'll probably be swarming the place like roaches." - he rubbed his forehead and shook his head again - "And that tanai's reasoning and arguments as to why those places are so special, could be best described as a ‘wild guess’. I’ve heard prophecies more grounded in reality than this. ”

She laughed, with a clear laugh of someone sure of what they have to say.

-” Well, zat changes nossing. Go! Hev adventure.”

He smiled and nodded a few times. Then shrugged.

-” You say 'just go'. That won't do. I have things to do in Zerstbank. Things set in motion some time ago. Things that need my supervision and that will take months to complete.”

She reached out across the table and clasped his hands in hers, forcing him to look straight at her.

-” Brandt. My one, true love. Zese are excuses! You have more money zan I ever saw. What you wear iz worss more zan what zis place makez in a year. Go! Have zis one lazt adventure! And take zat tanai with you, for good measure.”

He squirmed.

-” But the bank….”

-” Ze bank will do just fine…" - she waved her hand dismissively - "And if it doezn't, you have an eternity to fix it.”

Brandt threw her an exasperated look, as if she said something very offensive - and in alien language. It was preposterous to even think of leaving the bank in the hands of others. He didn’t spend over a century building his financial empire just to abandon it to pursue a whimsy or chase ghosts of the ancient myths. Reckless adventures were a thing of the past, and cast aside on his own volition. Hartmann the Dragonslayer and Dragman the Heartslayer? Pffft. Written off and slowly fading from memory, just like whatever or whomever he used to be back then. Brandt Zerster didn’t just work for Zerstbank. Zerstbank was his life!

He looked again at Sabine, who was grinning foolishly, and at the same time keeping one eye on the doings in the commons. He followed her gaze. Men, ordinary working men, were talking, shouting, singing, laughing, and generally being loud and obnoxious. Some were drinking, playing dice and cards, or even arm wrestling. What they weren’t doing, was work. And they were content with it.

Sabine got up after a short struggle, leaned over and, still grinning, whispered straight into his ear: “Go. Live zat eternity.”

Brandt observed her for a few dozen drips, as she waddled back to her job. She quickly apprehended one of the maids and seemed to berate her for some or other misdemeanor, then she disappeared into the kitchen, but not before she scoffed at one of the patrons, who was trying to get her attention.

Zerster suddenly remembered something she said after her firstborn son went off to war, conscripted into an infantry regiment. Well, he didn't remember exactly what she said then, but when asked if she was grieving his departure, she replied that it's the fate of every parent - they give birth to someone, feed them, raise them, teach them stuff… and then release them into the world so that they can carve their path.

Perhaps the time has come to step away and allow his creation to grow, in unexpected and unpredictable ways.

He scoffed, shook his head, and returned to his brooding, but not even a tenter later he caught himself thinking of the ways to relinquish control of the Zerstbank but retain the benefits.

Brandt finally had to admit. She was right.