Two more days passed. The wilderness crawled past them, one weary march at a time. Ash Company's camp bustled with soft murmurs and distant mechanical groans. The sky above was dull with clouds that didn't seem to care whether they rained or not.
Fornos sat near a dying fire, drinking warm water from a flask. He swirled the liquid and stared into it, half-remembering what real tea tasted like. Comfort was something for cities and wealth, not for mercenaries trudging through disputed territory.
The soft jingle of a tool pouch approached. Peter, head of the engineers, came into view, walking with the gait of someone wrestling internally with a request.
"Why are you drinking warm water like that?" Peter asked, puzzled.
"Nothing else to drink," Fornos replied flatly. "Is there a problem?"
"Not exactly," Peter said, scratching his cheek. "It's just… you seem to know a lot about golems. I was wondering if I could pick your brain for a bit?"
"I'm not an engineer."
"Sure, sure," Peter nodded. "But as a follower of Lumbar, I want to craft something new—my own design. I figured it couldn't hurt to listen to someone who's seen more than a few cores crack and codices burn."
Fornos sighed. "Fine. Get food first. And bring mine, while you're at it."
Peter gave a brief thumbs-up and left. Soon he returned with two bowls of warm broth-water, the kind with woody roots floating like tired fish. They sat down again, steam rising between them.
Before they could start, a dozen children—sons and daughters of handlers and guards—came running over, wide-eyed and expectant.
"This isn't a story, kids," Fornos warned, frowning. "We're talking about something else."
"But Uncle Peter said the Elder would tell one!" a curly-haired boy piped up.
Peter stiffened as Fornos slowly turned toward him, his expression hidden but clearly unamused.
"I just said it might be interesting," Peter muttered defensively. "Inspiration works better when people are interested, right?"
Fornos scanned the scene. Campfires flickered. The children had settled around them in an eager ring, and even some of the adults paused nearby, pretending not to listen.
"Fine," Fornos relented, voice low but clear. "Today, we'll learn about Thornjaw's 'father.'"
Mark, seated not far off, nearly spilled his bowl. Even Park, always silent, raised a brow. For Fornos to invoke that name…
"Before Thornjaw, before all these beasts of brass and muscle," Fornos began, "there was Krizan—the first golem to abandon the shape of man."
Gasps and whispers followed.
Fornos continued, voice calm and methodical. "Krizan was the creation of Ani Marous, a man born in a time when golems all looked like us. Two arms, two legs, heads and torsos—clean, predictable lines. Easy for the mind to understand and control. But Ani saw no reason to stay bound by the human silhouette. Why give a weapon legs, when wheels were faster? Why limit a guardian to arms, when claws or tendrils might serve better?"
The children listened wide-eyed, but even Peter and the older soldiers were absorbed now.
"Ani Marous shaped Krizan not from metal, but from purpose. It had no face. No arms. No elegance. Just raw functionality. And yet, when it moved, people wept. They said it had a soul."
Fornos's voice dropped slightly, gaining a reverence rarely heard from him. "Krizan wasn't just a tool. It was proof that golems could be more. Not just weapons or laborers, but reflections of their creator's inner truth."
"And that's why the Anima Acolyte exists today."
Peter blinked. "Wait, they're still around?"
"Of course they are," Fornos said. "One hundred years after Ani's death, his followers formalized into the Anima Acolyte. They're still active today—hidden in some places, public in others. Artisans, mystics, and craftsmen who believe that a golem is an extension of the soul."
He gestured subtly toward the row of Ash Company's golems in the distance—Thornjaw, Craterhoof, Kindling, and the Aegis twins. Their silhouettes stood like sleeping giants.
"They say each golem crafted by an Acolyte carries a spark of its maker's spirit," Fornos went on. "To them, crafting isn't technical. It's spiritual. They inscribe their emotions into the Codex. They breathe intention into the Core."
Peter leaned forward, voice hushed. "Do you believe it?"
Fornos didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed on the fire. "Belief doesn't matter. But results do. And their golems... they don't move like ours. They live differently. You see it in their gait. In the way they hold tension. In how they react under pressure."
One of the children raised her hand timidly. "So... is Thornjaw from the Anima Acolyte?"
Fornos gave a rare chuckle, soft and dry. "No. But its design is inspired by them. Thornjaw has traits that break with convention—its head is half-sunken, jaws offset to crush rather than bite, and its spine has secondary servo-claws. Whoever made it was thinking past symmetry. That's the mark of someone who studied their works, even if they don't wear the robes."
Peter's eyes sparkled. He clutched his flask with renewed energy.
"So if I want to make something unique," Peter asked, "should I study them?"
"If you want to make something alive," Fornos answered, "you have to understand them."
He paused.
"But understanding doesn't mean agreeing. The Acolyte are zealots in their own way. They shun standardization, refuse upgrades to their oldest golems, and often ignore military practicality. Many of them would rather see a golem fall gloriously than be retrofitted for battle."
Peter frowned. "That seems… limiting."
"Exactly. Inspiration is not imitation. Learn their heart, but craft your own hand."
A heavy silence followed. The fire crackled. The children were quietly thoughtful now. Even the adults stood a little straighter, as if reminded of something solemn and vast.
Peter finally stood up. "Thank you," he said.
Fornos didn't look at him. "Make something worthy of being remembered."
Peter nodded and walked off, already sketching ideas in his mind. Something jagged. Something elegant. Something impossible.
Behind him, Fornos sipped his warm water again. Still not tea—but it would do.