Chapter Two

A dragonfly smacked hard into the clear glass window, clueless as to the pane's existence. Stunned, the insect dropped down from the blow, its wings momentarily nonfunctional. Enraged but curious, it tested them halfway down its fall from the tower, buzzing cautiously to investigate the unseen cause of its discomfort.
Nadal ob Insame watched the iridescent blue creature rattling outside his window, his dark eyes fixated on the blurred flutter of the dragonfly's wings. Slowly rising from his chair so as to not frighten the dragonfly, the weasel crept toward the window, smiling thinly through his beard. He extended one paw, glacially turning the latch and pulling the pane open, crack by crack.
The dragonfly darted into the room, shimmering from point to point like a needle in midair. It was very confused. It had just flown through a barrier it had previously run into, through a puzzling empty space into a peculiar dark space. The dragonfly had no concept of a room. Skimming the perimeter, grazing the wall, it eventually buzzed up to Nadal, twitching its antennae quizzically at the only other living thing in the room. Nadal watched it stonefaced, showing not a flinch as he quickly swept a paw over the insect, a claw neatly pinning the center of the slender azure body to the table before him.
Nadal said nothing as he retracted his claw, wiping it clean on the tip of his beard. He then lifted the dead insect with surprising care, looking it over with the refined gaze of an entomologist, taking careful mental note of all features and joints. The same claw which ended the creature's life carefully manipulated the slightly pearlescent wings as they once moved in life, frame-by-frame slowly. Nadal maintained this practice for some minutes, though when the saturation point arrived he deftly plucked the wings from the thorax like a child who tortures flies, laying them carefully on the table and tossing the rest of the body back out of the open window.
Roth! Get up here! Roth! Nadal uttered a call that was not so much loud as simply grating. Not leaving his seat, the weasel still sent his summons ricocheting down the levels of his tower.
A small fox scampered up the stairs, his scrawny disheveled form heaving from the exertion of scaling many stories within the tower. I need to devise a better way to get up here, thought Thadius Roth, concern marking his rust-furred features. Roth assumed the mannerisms of a submissive-minded lackey, all the while his finetuned scientific brain ticked away at ob Insame's assignments and his own mechanical hypotheses. The fox did not flaunt his talents as an engineer and an architect; even had he wanted to, there was no need to brag. His identical towers, ingeniously balanced on wooden cords, iron rods, and glass plates quite literally stood for themselves.
Thadius did not need Nadal's bidding to understand that he was about to receive a new project. Approaching the table, his ears turned forward to pick up Nadal's normal grating whisper. The weasel snatched Thadius' paw, placing it firmly on the table beside the disembodied dragonfly wings. Can you make me something like this, Roth? Something my size, something light and mobile?
There was no saying no to Nadal ob Insame. Thadius pulled a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from his pocket, placing them on the tip of his muzzle and examining the wings through the lenses. I believe I could, yes, I'm fairly certain that I could. Thadius gently swept the wings onto a handkerchief he had also produced from a pocket. But dare I ask what for?
Nadal ob Insame's hard dark eyes glinted with ominous inspiration. It is best that you do not ask, Roth. You shall know when I decide that you shall know. Classified information, retained by one.
Thadius did not further question his duty, descending the staircase to his workroom.