Disclaimer: I don't own Magic: The Gathering, just my characters. Arcus Acer used with permission of his creator.
Chapter 24-Fixing the feline
Arcus Acer's day had begun ordinarily enough: the artificer had woken up before sunrise and gone out for his morning walk around the outskirts of the village, seeking out scraps of metal or damaged artifacts he could salvage. He found his rate of encountering interesting or useful artifacts seemed to be higher in the morning, though he wasn't quite sure why. Unfortunately, his search had been fruitless, and as the suns began climbing overhead, he had returned to the village. Unbeknownst to the artificer, today this clockwork routine would be perturbed by two unexpected visitors.
Aniron was a small village located in the immensity of the Razor Fields. However, it bordered a well-traveled road that led to Taj-Nar, and so, was able to thrive from the business the many travelers brought on their way to and from the Den. Arcus had taken up the role of local artificer upon his arrival in Aniron a few months ago. There had been none when he arrived, and seeing the flow of travelers passing through the village, he had decided opening a shop would prove most useful. This shop was located on the main street, his personal insignia (a Myr on a red and black checkerboard background) advertising his services. The Myr referenced his status of artificer; however the red and black background was merely an aesthetic choice.
Travelers would often bring him broken artifacts and Arcus would repair them in exchange for a few coins. He had acquired a well-known reputation as a skilled artificer and many people passing through the village would visit his shop for repairs. Through his business, Arcus made enough to live comfortably, and his repairs helped increase his knowledge of artifacts.
As he approached the gates, he waved to the two guards standing on either side of the entrance. Despite its small size, the village still required a law-keeping force to deal with the flow of travelers. Thanks to them, Aniron had a relatively low crime rate, the occasional drunken brawl being the only thing the guards really had to worry about. Arcus was fairly well-acquainted with the guards; being a small community, many of the inhabitants of the village knew each other.
Arcus stopped at the gate to exchange a few words with the guards. This was part of his routine, and the guards would often heckle him over his scrap-scavenging, but it was all in good fun.
"So, another fruitless search for Master Acer, eh?" laughed one of the guards, noting Arcus' empty pack.
"All the better for him; if he keeps filling his house with useless pieces of junk, it'll collapse from the weight of all the scrap inside!" said the other guard.
Arcus laughed along with them. The amount of broken artifacts and scraps he had amassed over the years and which now filled his home was a recurring joke in their banter. Bidding them a good day, he passed through the gates and walked up the main street to his shop.
Opening the door, he stepped inside, removing his mud-caked boots and stepped into his workshop. This was where he kept his most precious artifacts. The room was small and cramped, but Arcus spent as much time in there as possible. Across from the door was a workbench that ran the length of the room. It was covered in scrap metal and tools, with a small space cleared for work. A simple wooden stool sat under the bench, so as not to be in the way when not needed. The other two walls were covered with rows and rows of shelves from the floor to the ceiling. These were packed with many artifacts, some in a worse state of disrepair than others, as well as screws, bolts, springs and many other spare parts Arcus used in his repairs, each in their own jars. Despite the apparent clutter, Arcus had his own system of organization and could easily find anything he needed in the mess.
As the door opened, there was a metallic clatter as a small myr jumped off its shelf to greet its master. Arcus had built it from spare parts he'd salvaged back when he lived near the Mephidross swamps. After the fall of Memnarch, the myr had been in disarray. With their master gone, many of them had reverted to a feral state and roamed Mirrodin in packs. However, enthrallment was such an integral part of the race that some could easily be domesticated and used as servants. Arcus' myr helped him around the workshop, fetching tools or parts the artificer required.
"Hello there," said Arcus, giving the myr and affectionate pat on the head. The myr chirped in response. Even though it was a machine, Arcus had discovered it could sense his emotions and respond accordingly.
There was a large object covered with a cloth on the workbench. Arcus pulled it off to reveal his latest project: a heretofore unknown artifact he had discovered a few weeks ago during a thorough search of the area surrounding Aniron. It was conical in shape and its carapace was made of metal plates. Several of these had been removed to expose its mechanical innards. He had yet to discover how it worked, let alone what it was, but he had no doubt he would soon unlock the artifact's secrets.
Taking a seat, Arcus picked up a small screwdriver and was about to remove another plate from the artifact when he heard the front door open and a female voice call out, "Hello? My brother is injured and we need your help!"
Putting down his tool, Arcus left the workshop to find two leonin standing in his doorway. The female who had called out was supporting the other, a male, whose arm was bandaged.
"Hello there. I am Arcus Acer. How may I help you?" asked the artificer.
At that moment, the male leonin collapsed, the female's legs buckling under his weight, sending them both to the floor.
"What happened?" asked Arcus, helping the female up.
"We were attacked by a creature on the outskirts of the village."
"Let me have a look here…Oh my, this does not look good," said Arcus, peeling back the bandage around the leonin's arm; three deep gashes marred the metallic surface and a viscous black liquid seeped from the wounds.
"Can you help him?" asked the female.
Arcus was unsure. Despite all the inhabitants of Mirrodin possessing metallic body parts, due in part to the influence of the Mycosynth spores, Arcus had never worked on another sentient being. He assumed it would be possible for him to repair the arm; after all, it was just another broken machine to be mended. However, the black liquid was most likely the leonin's blood, converted by the arm. Judging by his unconscious state, Arcus estimated he must have lost a lot of blood. If he didn't act soon, he would die.
"Hand me that pouch on the bench," he told the female, mopping up as much of the mechanical blood as he could with a rag to get a better look at the damage. Taking a pair of pliers from the pouch, he cut through the metal between the wounds and pried the pieces back to get inside the arm; it was a mess. Broken cables and pipes filled the cavity, the pipes hemorrhaging the black liquid at an alarming rate. Every so often, Arcus had to wipe it away to see what he was doing.
He soon realized that there wasn't enough time. A repair like this would involve removing the damaged tubing sections and welding new ones in place, then all the broken cogs and springs would need to be replaced, and finally, the cables would need to be fused back together. It was just too much work for the time he estimated the leonin would last.
"I'll need your help," said Arcus. "Go into my workshop and get me a kinometric extrapolator."
"What does it look like?"
"Ask the myr when you get in there."
"Myr?"
"You'll see it. Go!" said Arcus. She obeyed.
Arcus took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. It had been a while since he had done this. His request for the tool was merely a diversion; he did not want the female to be frightened by what he was about to do. He didn't have much time; it wouldn't take long for the female to return with the tool and he could feel the leonin's life slipping away.
Reaching deep within, the artificer began visualizing the mechanical innards of the arm as they would have been prior to the injury. As he concentrated, he felt his power surfacing, filling him with knowledge. He channeled this power into the arm and watched as the ruptured wires took on a life of their own, the individual metal strands that composed them knitting back together. The damaged tubes inflated back to their original diameter and the broken ends extended, connecting with each other. The flow of blood ceased as the holes in the tubing sealed over, leaving no indication of the injury.
Once he was sure the leonin was out of harm's way, Arcus ceased his concentration, the power receding within him. There was still a lot of work to be done in order to restore the arm to full functionality, but the essential repairs were done.
Arcus felt winded. He'd made a point of trying not to resort to his ability when it came to artifact repair. His desire for knowledge was stronger than his aspiration for wealth, and using his ability for the latter would only hinder his study of artifacts. Nobody else in the village knew about his gift, and Arcus preferred it this way. He did not fully understand this power that had awakened within him; all he knew was that it allowed him to mend artifacts in a matter of seconds. While he suspected that if others learned of his skill, he would undoubtedly become the most sought-after artificer of Mirrodin, he was still unsure about the limit of his ability.
"I got the tool!" said the female leonin, bursting out of the workshop with the kinometric extrapolator in hand.
"Thank-you, but it won't be necessary," said Arcus. "The damage was not as severe as I had first estimated, so I was able to repair the major damage. There is still much to be done before he will be able to use his arm again, but rest assured your brother is no longer in peril."
The first thing Argoth saw when he awoke was a thatched roof overhead. Turning his head, he saw a human male sitting beside him, extracting a broken gear from the leonin's arm, which was resting on a small stool. Looking around, the leonin saw he was lying on a cot in the middle of a room cluttered with artifacts.
"W-Where am I?" mumbled Argoth.
"Ah, hello there! Glad to see you are awake," said the human. "My name is Arcus Acer. You are in my workshop. Your sister brought you here; you were in very bad shape, severely wounded and all, but I managed to repair your arm."
"Alaysia? Where is she?"
"Resting. It has been several hours since you arrived."
"What are you doing to my arm?" asked Argoth.
"I'm still repairing it. When you came in, you were bleeding severely, but I managed to patch you up. Right now, I'm just replacing broken parts, reconnecting cables and so on. When I'm done, I'll put a cover on the hole and you'll be good as new!"
"How long will it take?"
"To be honest, I don't really know. This is the first time I have even repaired another being," admitted Arcus.
"I am grateful for what you have done," said Argoth, as Arcus tightened a tiny screw into place. "However, my sister is expected at the Ancient Den. Could you please complete the repairs as quickly as possible so we can be on our way?"
"It will take the time it takes!" snapped Arcus. "I am sorry," he apologized "You see, I am very dedicated to my craft. I see machines as works of art and it would be a travesty to improperly repair your arm, as well as leaving you crippled if it were to break again due to a quick fix."
"No, I am at fault," said Argoth. "You saved my life and this is no way to repay you."
"I promise to do my best so as to get you back on your feet and on your way as soon as possible," said Arcus.
Argoth did not sleep much for the remainder of the night. Then again, sleeping when someone was tinkering with your arm was no easy task.
Over the next few days, the repairs on Argoth's arm progressed. Alaysia aided Arcus as much as she could. She was intrigued by his artifacts, the myr in particular. Arcus explained the myr had once been the eyes and ears of Memnarch, the guardian of Mirrodin. The artificer could sense something odd about the leonin. The feeling had started when they had first met, but try as he might, Arcus could not determine what it was about Alaysia that was different.
Finally, the day came when Arcus affixed a metal plate onto Argoth's arm, the final step in his repair of the leonin's limb. Sitting up, Argoth flexed his arm, carefully curling his fingers to test the repairs.
"How does it feel?" asked Arcus. "I took the liberty of changing the gear ratios so you should be able to move it more easily."
"It does feel different, but I like the added mobility. Thank-you."
"It was nothing."
"How can we ever repay you for what you've done?" said Alaysia.
"There is no need. We have both helped each other. Argoth is patched up and I have furthered my knowledge of artifacts. As far as I am concerned, we are even."
The two leonin tried to convince Arcus to accept something for what he had done for them, but the artificer refused. Finally, they agreed that the knowledge he had gained was worth more than anything they could offer him. After restocking their provisions, they bid Arcus farewell and left Aniron, heading down the dusty road that would eventually lead them to Taj-Nar, where the Kha awaited their arrival.
To be continued…
Author's note: Yes, I'm still alive. No, I haven't given up on this story…yet. Just kidding. I'd like to thank everyone who's been patiently waiting for this chapter. I know I haven't really been updating much and I thank you for understanding.