True to his word, Roderich sent the completed plans over to Alin's house later that evening. Alin ran his fingers over the perfectly-traced designs, half in admiration, half in jealousy. Even on paper the leg was meticulously detailed with not a single cog or gear out of place. It almost looked like it could come alive in his hands.

This just left the mechanics. Alin decided to pay Roderich's cousins a visit them the next morning and left Andrei in Erzsébet's care while he walked over to their workshop in the other side of town. The area was even more upmarket than Alin had imagined. Trying not to feel intimidated by the many-storied buildings and soot-free streets, he made his way to the given address and rapped on the knocker. There was a sign hanging above the door bearing the emblem of an eagle holding a spanner and a can of oil in each of its wings. Underneath the image, the company name stood in bold letters:

Old Fritz's Awesome Constructions

He'd definitely come to the right place, then.

The door was opened by a lanky man dressed in a mechanic's apron. His eyes were an even deeper shade of red than Alin's and they narrowed in suspicion as they surveyed him.

"Erm, do I know you?"

Alin considered the question. "Technically… not yet. But I sort of know you because I'm, uh, really good friends with your cousin Roderich and- hey!"

As soon as he mentioned Roderich's name, the door began to close. Alin jumped forward and stuck his foot out to block it from shutting.

"What are you doing? At least let me explain who I am, dammit!"

"Sorry, I don't talk to friends of Roderich!" the man said cheerfully, "Now, would you mind getting your foot out of my door?"

"Look, this is serious and I need your- ow!" He yelped as the door slammed repeatedly into his foot, "Cut it out! That hurts!"

The man laughed. "Yeah? Well it'll be easier if you just leave. Unless you've got a really, really good reason for coming here."

"I do!" Alin had expected to give his prepared speech after he'd been invited into the building, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to do it now instead. "My name's Alin Radacanu. The other day, I was out driving the A341-Walker with my co-driver Erzsébet Héderváry and we-"

The slamming stopped immediately. To his relief, the man cautiously opened the door again.

"Wait… you know Erzsi too?"

"Unfortunately." Alin scowled. "I'm forced to work with that bitch almost every day."

The mechanic laughed again with a short, machine-like cackle. He sounded a lot more resentful than he did amused.

"Alright, come in then." He stood aside to clear the way, "Something tells me we're going to have quite a lot in common, Mr… what did you say your name was again?"

"Alin." He noticed that the man still had his shoes on, but he decided to take off his own mud-caked boots just to be on the safe side. "And you are?"

"The awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt." he said, "I'd shake your hand but, well, now's not really the time."

He displayed his grease-stained hands apologetically and laughed in that bitter, chilling way for the third time.

Considering the amount of construction they did, Alin was surprised to find that the Belschmidts' studio consisted of only a single room in the basement. Not to say that it wasn't well-organised, though. All of the worktops were immaculately clean, while each tool and mechanical part hung on its own specific peg sticking out of the wall.

Alin had fed Gilbert the same hiker story he'd used on Katernia. He appeared to have accepted it just as easily as she had. Taking Roderich's designs, Gilbert spread them out over a table to examine. The edge of his lip twisted in the expression of a man who was desperately trying to avoid looking impressed.

"Damn, I hate that guy." he said finally, "But he's got to be one of the best at his job that you'll ever meet."

Alin raised his eyebrows. "Funny. He said exactly the same thing about you."

Gilbert didn't quite laugh this time but still managed a kind of warped grin. "Yeah? Well, he was right about that. I'm not just good at what I do, I'm incredible! Look,"

Reaching into his apron pocket, he pulled out what looked like a yellow ball of fluff. He flipped a button and the fluff sprang to life at once, cheeping like a bird and fluttering around Gilbert's head with tiny mechanical wings.

"Isn't he awesome?" Gilbert said, "I call him 'The Gilbird'. I'm thinking of making an eagle next."

"Yeah. He's… great." Personally, Alin couldn't see the appeal of having a clockwork bird, but he supposed that it was good engineering.

"Heh, thanks!" He caught Gilbird and de-activated him again before stuffing him back into his pocket. "Oh, and I can totally do this leg you want. After some of the stuff I've made, it'll be pipsqueak."

"How long will it take?" Alin asked, thinking of what Katerina told him.

Gilbert scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Um… dunno. Depends on whether or not my bro Ludwig decides to pitch in. He's out at the moment so I can't ask him."

"More or less than a week?"

"Oh less, definitely." Gilbert winked. "We'll have it done in time for your man's operation, don't you worry!"

"Thanks!" Alin said, relieved.

Gilbert chuckled in response, picked up Roderich's designs and began to walk around the room. He muttered to himself as he collected items from their pegs; a hammer, several bolts and a block of iron. Alin watched on, the next awkward question on the tip of his tongue.

"Um, how much is this going to cost exactly?

"Dunno that either. Ludi handles all the finances." Gilbert said, selecting two pairs of goggles, "But whatever it is, I'll be able to give you a discount. You're a special case."

"Really?" Alin could hardly believe his luck, "How so?"

"You're someone Erzsébet hates even more than me. Makes me feel like much less of a dick for wanting her. Sort of. Maybe."

He laughed yet again but it sounded painfully forced. By this point, Gilbert's hands were completely full. He staggered back to the worktop and dumped the items on the surface.

"Right." He picked up one of the pairs of goggles and handed it to Alin, "Might as well get started while we can."

"What? You want me to join in as well?"

"Sure, why not?" Gilbert snapped on his own goggles and picked up terrifying-looking instrument with a piece of metal sticking out of the nozzle. "Welding is a two-man job and while Ludi's not here, you can take his place."

Alin gulped. Part of the reason why he'd never considered a career in mechanics was because of all the terrible stories he'd heard about it. There used to be a barman serving at the local tavern who swore that the scar running through his left eye was a trophy won from the welding process.

"But… aren't there loads of sparks and stuff?"

"'Course." Gilbert took a clump of snowy hair into his hands. "You ever wonder how my hair got to be such an awesome colour? It used to be pure blond, but smoke exposure dyed it white. That's why my bro wears a hairnet when he works."

Alin swept his own hair back protectively. "D'you mind if I wear a hairnet too?"

"Hehe, one time won't be enough to change it permanently! But feel free to wear it if you really want to."

He gestured to where the hairnet was hanging on a peg on the other side of the room. Alin went over to retrieve it and made sure he had his entire head completely covered. The last thing he wanted was to return to Tsvetan with his hair the colour of chalk, however noble the cause was. By the time he got back, Gilbert had set the worktop up ready to begin. He pushed the hammer in Alin's direction who picked it up uncertainly.

"Er, sorry, but I don't really have a clue what I'm meant to be doing."

Gilbert's smile showed teeth. "Don't be such a sissy! Just do what I say and you'll be fine, alright?"

"Alright." Alin said, "I guess…"

With a nod, Gilbert turned on his instrument and a burst of fire blazed onto the metal. Alin held the hammer at the ready. The welding process had begun.

Welding, as it turned out, was a lot less nerve-racking than Alin had imagined. Gilbert did most of the work with the burner, carefully melting the metal at the right angles, leaving Alin to bang the corners into shape whenever he was told to. They left the finished result out to cool and returned to it after the molten metal had set. At Gilbert's instruction, Alin was even able to knock a few bolts and cogs into place.

By midday, the block of metal had been transformed into the clear shape of a foot. Gilbert tested it out by winding up the clogs and Alin watched on in awe. The clockwork foot could move up and down on the worktop surface, entirely on its own. If it worked here, it was bound to work for Tsvetan too.

He thanked Gilbert again before he left.

"No problem!" Gilbert said. He'd become a good deal more excitable after the success of the foot, almost like he secretly hadn't been expecting it to work. "Come back tomorrow too if you like. Ludi will be here then, so we'll be able to get even more work done."

Nodding, Alin walked back down the Belschmidt's driveway. "I will! Thanks!"

"See ya then!" Gilbert waved from the door. "Give Erzsi a kick from me. Or a kiss. Whichever you prefer."

Alin decided to make that a kick.

Making up his mind on whether or not to visit a healing patient shouldn't have been difficult. Yet Alin agonised over it almost the entire afternoon. He'd last seen Tsvetan only yesterday; would it seem like he was being too forward if he came again? And if he didn't, would it seem like he didn't care any more?

He wondered as well about bringing him a present. A get-well card, or a bunch of flowers or something. Perhaps it would be too soon. Perhaps it would be too excessive. Perhaps Tsvetan would even see it as an insult to the memories of his shipmates.

In the end, Alin was stressing out about it all so much that Andrei had to practically drag him down to the infirmary.

"I know you want to see him, brother." he said, with all his nine-year old wisdom, "And you never know, he might actually want to see you too."

Alin only hoped that he was right.

But as soon as he stepped into the intensive ward to find himself greeted by Tsvetan's shy smile and his shining grey eyes, Alin completely forgot that he'd been nervous at all. Tsvetan was pleased to see him and nothing else mattered.

They exchanged small-talk for a few minutes; Alin asking how he felt, if he'd had a good night's sleep, whether or not he'd eaten anything. Generic questions, but even the generic answers sounded nice in Tsvetan's voice.

It didn't take long, however, for Alin to notice that there was something wrong. Tsvetan seemed more subdued today and his eyes kept flicking nervously from side to side.

"What's up?" Alin asked him, though he thought he could guess.

"I heard this morning." Tsvetan said in a quiet voice, "Katerina told me. They're going to have to take my leg."

Alin looked at him, trying to scan his face for some sign of distress or fear. All he could read within his eyes was guilt. Did that even make sense? Possibly. He was using the medical services of an enemy country, after all.

"Yeah, I heard too. How do you feel about that?"

Tsvetan shook his head. "It's too difficult for me to even contemplate. It'll be much harder to hide when I can't walk-"

"You could hide in my house." said Alin, "They wouldn't find you there."

He brushed the offer aside. "And I don't know how I'd ever be able to go anywhere, or get home."

"You wouldn't need to. But if you did, I'd help you."

Tsvetan frowned. He almost looked sympathetic. "I know you'd try and I'm very grateful for that. But it'd be a lot harder than you think. You'd put yourself in so mach danger, smuggling me across."

"Can't be that difficult." Alin said bracingly, "If you taught be how to fly one of your airships, you'd be back in Hep- back home in no time."

He didn't like having to say 'Hepworth' out loud. Part of it was out of fear that someone might hear him but mostly it was because the word reinforced the idea of their separation. That he and Tsvetan shouldn't be sitting together like friends or entertaining plans, or even talking at all.

"That's another thing." Tsvetan said, "Flying. It's only been a couple of days, but already I miss piloting my airship so much. When my leg's gone, I'll never be able to do it again."

Now the expression on his face was easy to read. Longing.

That was so absurd to Alin that he couldn't help feeling curious. Why would Tsvetan want to pilot again? What was it about airships that made him want to return to a profession that had claimed so many of his friends' lives?

"What's it like?" he asked, "Flying, I mean?"

"It's… incredible." Tsvetan rested his head against the pillows and closed his eyes. "There are no restrictions in the sky. No rules to follow, no leaders to obey. There's just you with the wind and clouds and the feeling of pure freedom all around you." When he opened his eyes again they were gleaming. "The best feeling in the whole world."

If Tsvetan had been an ordinary Ryderian man, Alin would have kissed him there and then. He'd never felt such a powerful surge of affection before; a sort of unbearable tingling all over that made him want to take Tsvetan in his arms and stare him deeply in the eyes and promise him that everything, everything would be alright.

But while they were still enemies, he could only dream.

He nudged him. "Hey, d'you have mechanical legs where you come from?"

"Well, yes. But I don't think that's an option. They cost a fortune and they have to be custom-made to fit you exactly." He sighed. "It would be impossible to get anyone to engineer one in this country."

"Well, you're wrong." Alin said, "I'm making one for you."

Tsvetan simply gaped at him, so he continued.

"Erzsébet's boyfriend made the plans and I got in contact with the mechanic today." He was grinning like an idiot and he knew it but he couldn't stop himself. "We've already made the foot and it works. We'll have the whole thing ready before the amputation, I swear it."

For a moment, Tsvetan remained silent, like he was frozen to the spot. Alin watched for a reaction. He hadn't accidentally done anything to offend him, had he? Had Tsvetan even understood him at all? Suddenly, Tsvetan gave a shuddering gasp and buried his face in the bedcovers.

"Oh Alin…" His voice was muffled but the guilt was unmistakable. "You- you really are unbelievable!"

Alin giggled nervously. "I know. But it's a good kind of unbelievable, right?"

"Yes. Yes, of course it is."

It took a while for Tsvetan to emerge. Alin half-expected his cheeks to be wet. Instead, they were flushed a deep, shameful scarlet colour.

"You'll still be able to pilot with a clockwork leg, won't you?" Alin asked.

Tsvetan nodded.

"As soon as I can walk again, I'm going to take you out flying." he said, "You'll be able to see how special it is, then, just how much it means to me. It would be the least I could do to pay you back."

Alin wanted to tell him that he'd already payed him back a hundred times over just by walking into his life. But he couldn't find the words so he just smiled.

"I'd like that."

In the days that followed, there were two constants in Alin's life.

One was that he helped out in Old Fritz's Awesome Constructions every morning. He met the younger Belschmidt, Ludwig, on his second day there and soon learnt that he had a far stricter attitude towards work than his brother. Sure, Gilbert was organised and efficient but he didn't have the same eye for detail as Ludwig did. Ludwig seemed to possess an instinctive sense of where every bolt and cog should be, right down to the inch. If that meant pointing out all of Alin's mistakes and insisting that he start again until he got it exactly right, so be it.

"Come on now," he said, after making him redo a particularly intricate piece of metal, "Surely you cannot want your friend's future body part to malfunction."

Alin didn't; of course he didn't. But at the same time, he he found it impossible to believe that a gear that wasn't precisely at a 35 degree angle would make a slightest bit of difference and that was infuriating him.

"Why? What the hell could actually happen?"

Ludwig puffed up his chest. "Well, for a start it could cause unnecessary friction against the main part of the metal, which would result in the entire unit overheating and possibly exploding. Also, the greater angle means that the replacement fibular would not be sufficiently connected to the ankle bone, which would make the unit jolt painfully every time it was stepped on. Even worse, the overall pressure against the outer layer would cause-"

"Jeez, Ludi, give the lectures a rest." Gilbert said from across the room, "You're scaring him!"

Alin didn't ask again, but did whatever he was told to with renewed obedience. By the second day, they had the leg completed up to the knee. The third day finally saw their efforts result in a finished product.

He also discovered around the same time that Ludwig was not at all inhibited to discussing prices. Even with the brothers' kind reduction the bill had naughts which sent it rocketing far out of his price range. He ended up putting it off by promising to pay them back later, although he knew that would be impossible. If he managed to get through Tsvetan's recovery without at least one bank robbery, it was going to be a flipping miracle.

The second constant in Alin's life was that he visited Tsvetan in the intensive care unit at least once a day.

Sometimes, Tsvetan was asleep during these encounters. Alin would sit by his bed and watch over him while he rested, guarding the gentle rise and fall of his chest almost obsessively. When he was feeling brave, he would even reach out to caress Tsvetan's fringe.

But mostly Tsvetan was awake in the afternoons, giving Alin a chance to get to know that man who was beginning to dominate his every waking thought. He was particularly interested in his life back home and role within the Hepworthian army. He came to learn that Tsvetan was only a trainee airman, fresh out of piloting school, and that the mission he and his shipmates had been out on was only supposed to be a practice. Alin wasn't sure whether that made the situation better or worse.

In turn, he told Tsvetan all about his life in the Kingdom of Ryder. About living under the rule of King Francis with his guardsmen and regular parades around the city centre. About learning to drive a Walker and getting stuck with Erzsébet as a partner. About Andrei and how he was growing up to become quite the little cheeky bastard.

As the week progressed, the information they exchanged grew steadily more detailed. Tsevtan's favourite food was yoghurt; Alin's was a papanasi pastry. Tsvetan liked listening to depressing ballads; Alin preferred upbeat tunes. Alin's greatest fear was losing someone important to him; Tsvetan's was letting down someone important to him.

Alin often had to scout with the Walker during the evenings. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he began finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate whenever it was his turn to drive.

"Look out!" Erzsébet shouted for about the tenth time during one patrol. She wrestled the controls out of his hands just in time to swerve away from hitting a huge rock in their path. "Radacanu, what's been up with you recently? Not that you were a good pilot before or anything, but your performance has really gone downhill."

Alin shrugged, feeling the beginnings of a blush stroke his cheeks. "I dunno, it's just… other things on my mind."

Erzsébet shook her head and turned back to tend to the fires, though he could have sworn that he heard he muttering as she did so. Something like "Lovestruck fool."

The date for Tsvetan's operation was set for Friday evening at the end of the week. Alin checked, double-checked and triple-checked with the Beilschmidts that the clockwork leg was entirely faultless before taking it down to the infirmary. Katerina and Ravis were kitted out in long gowns and surgical masks but removed them to admire the piece of technology.

"This is flawlessly made," Katerina said, after giving every part a thorough examination, "I think it will do very nicely for Mr Borisov. Ravis, take this down to the ward, please."

Her assistant nodded and she handed him the unit. It was so big that it almost dwarfed Ravis' figure.

"Um, maybe it'd be best if I take it down instead." Alin said.

Katerina threw him a scandalised look. "Alin, there are no visitors allowed during the operation! It is a strictly medical procedure."

"What?!" There went his fantasy of holding Tsvetan's hand and whispering words of comfort into his ear. "But- but… that's not fair!"

"It's perfectly fair. The operation is dangerous enough as it is already without you getting in the way. You may visit him afterwards if you'd like that."

Alin swallowed "Can't I at least visit him before it starts? Just to wish him good luck and everything."

She sighed deeply. "Very well. Escort him please, Ravis."

Alin took the clockwork leg from Ravis' hands and followed him down the hallway to the intensive ward. Could that be for the last time? Best not to get too optimistic.

When he entered the ward, he saw that Tsvetan's bed had been moved to the centre of the room. A table stood beside it which carried a number of instruments, including a leather belt and a saw with sharpened edges.

"Alin. You came." Tsvetan was sitting up in bed, his one good foot pulled into his chest. He looked every bit as pale as he had when Alin had first met him.

Alin forced a smile. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Alright I suppose." Tsvetan said. Then he shivered. "Scared, though."

"You'll be fine. Try not to think about the pain, think about piloting. The best feeling in the world, you said."

Tsvetan squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. I'll try."

"And- and Tsvetan?"

"Yeah?"

Alin twisted his hands in his pockets. "Stay alive, okay? You've still got to take me out flying."

Tsvetan managed a laugh, though it was a very shaky one. "I'll try my hardest with that too."

At that moment, the door opened behind him and Katerina walked in with Ravis.

"Alright, time to start now." she said through her mask, "Alin, if you could leave us please?"

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Alin turned around and dragged his feet towards the door. He turned back just before shut it for one last look at his Tsvetan's beautiful, petrified face.

"Good luck." he mouthed and Tsvetan nodded to show that he'd understood.

Then the door closed and he was gone. Could that be for the last time? Alin chewed the corner of his lip. Best not to get too pessimistic.

"Alin! Alin, come quick!"

He'd been waiting for little over five minutes in the main section of the infirmary when the shouts came. Snapping out of his daze, he turned to see Andrei in the entrance, bent over double and breathing heavily like he'd been running. His brother gasped for breath and gestured behind him wildly.

"You've got to come home, Alin! Erzsébet's there. There's a man who wants to speak to you both."

Alin's stomach flipped over. "What?! Andrei, he's not one of the guards is he?"

It was a relief when Andrei shook his head. "No. It's that man who tells you what to do at your work. Officer Kirkland, or whatever his name is."

Officer Kirkland. That, if possible was even worse than an guardsman. Alin leapt to his feet, legs already shaking.

"Alright, I'd better go. Thanks for telling me." He was about to break out into a run, then he stopped himself. "And by the way… don't come home for a while. At least until nasty Officer Kirkland has gone, okay?"

After all, Alin thought as he tore out of the infirmary and through the narrow cobbled streets of Dunning City, If what he's got to say concerns Tsvetan, this could end up getting ugly.

The distance from the infirmary to his house in the suburbs was about a fifteen minute walk. Alin sprinted there in five. When he burst through the door, his unexpected guests were there to await him.

"S-sorry I'm late, Sir!"

Officer Kirkland raised his trademark bushy eyebrows. He seemed to have chosen to wear a monocle for added intimidation.

"No matter, Radacanu. Please take a seat."

Normally, Alin would have made a joke about being ordered around in his own house. Now, he could tell that it would go down like a lead airship. He sat down next to Erzsébet on the other side of the table who glared at him stonily.

Taking off his bowler hat, Officer Kirkland cleared his throat.

"Now, in case you don't know what you've been called here for, we sent a patrol group scouting over your usual route this morning. We didn't expect anything out of the ordinary considering that you two have this area covered, but halfway through they reported the crash of an enemy airship. With the bodies of four Hepworthian men inside. Judging by the state of the corpses, they estimated them to be at least a week old." He twisted his bowler hat and gave them both a piercing stare. "Explain yourselves!"

Neither of them said a word. Alin's heart was thumping so hard that he doubted he'd still have the ability to form coherent sentences any more. Next to him, Erzsébet's mouth was rounded into the 'o' shape it always formed when she was put under pressure.

Officer Kirkland tutted. "I'll make this a little easier for you since the cat seems to have caught your tongues. Have you or have you not seen this airship crash any time in the past week?"

Suddenly, both rushed to speak at once.

"Yes." said Erzsébet.

"No." said Alin.

All eyes turned on him.

"Well, um, of-of course I meant that we've seen it!" he hastened to say, "I just meant that… that we didn't report it! That's all!"

"I am aware that you didn't report it, Radacanu." The Officer's voice was merciless. "Painfully aware, in fact, that the two of you have concealed this information from us for an entire week!"

"We didn't think it was necessary, Sir." Erzsébet said.

Alin stared at her, open-mouthed. Was he seeing things or was this seriously Erzsébet Héderváry stepping in to defend him? Perhaps he'd make Gilbert's kick into a kiss after all.

The Officer narrowed his eyes. It looked like hard work with the monocle. "Whatever do you mean by that, Héderváry?"

"I sent Radacanu down to give the airship a check-over as soon as we saw it, Sir." She kicked Alin's leg under the table under the table. "Isn't that right, Radacanu?"

"Yeah!" Alin said quickly, "I checked really thoroughly but… nothing. No survivors, no cargo or weaponry of any value, just four dead bodies and a burning ship. So we didn't consider it worth reporting. Sir!"

Officer Kirkland closed his eyes and massaged those enormous eyebrows with a thumb and forefinger. Every inch of his expression suggested that he was only resisting screaming at them with great difficulty.

"Might I remind you both that we are at war?" he spat at them, "And not only that… we have recently heard new information from our agents stationed in Hepworth. The authorities there have been planning something recently- we do not know exactly what it is, but from the sound of things it is something which could shake up the entire course of this conflict. It is imperative that we remain vigilant in these dangerous times. Every sighting of the enemy, failed or not, must be reported. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Alin and Erzsébet said together.

"Sorry, Sir." Alin added for good measure.

"Unfortunately, Radacanu, it is not me who you would need to apologise to, should this crisis escalate." Officer Kirkland said, "It could be as much as to the entire Kingdom."

Alin opened his mouth, about to remind him that Tsvetan's mission had only been a practice before he caught himself just in time. Satisfied, Officer Kirkland stood up and replaced his bowler hat.

"Tomorrow evening, I am sending the two of you out again with a Walker to collect the bodies. You will go out there promptly and bring back everything you can for a full diagnosis. Only then can we conclude whether or not the incident was 'worth reporting'." he said, then his voice hardened, "And if either of you are ever, ever found to be concealing information from us again, the consequences will be very severe indeed. Good day to you both."

He tipped his hat to Erzsébet and left. For a few moments the two of them sat in silence, listening to his footsteps echo away. Alin didn't dare to look at his co-driver. As much as he hated Erzsébet, he was well aware that it was entirely his fault that she'd been brought under questioning. And that she'd just lied through her teeth for him.

"Thanks," he muttered eventually, "For not… y'know."

He smiled but Erzsébet didn't meet it. Instead, she stood up and turned her back away.

"You're damn lucky Roderich's so good in bed." she said, her voice fierce, "If he wasn't then I might think twice about betraying my country to protect his balls."

Then she stormed out of the house, leaving Alin alone to contemplate. It was funny really, he'd always been told as a child that love was the most powerful force in the world and that it could withstand anything, even war. But now, it seemed that he'd found another force, battling hard to be love's equal.

Duty.

*This chapter made me realise that I actually really enjoy writing twisted, one-sided PruHun. I am a clearly a terrible person. Anyway, I looked up images of 'steampunk mechanical leg' for the sort of thing that Alin and the Belschmidts have been creating.

Next chapter will be up as soon as possible.*