Runt found him staring into the dark pit of the tunnel mouth. He watched him for some time. The dwindling light of the setting sun struggled to reach them this close to the Spine. What little of it did was swallowed whole by the tunnel's maw. Clementine made no movement besides the occasional readjustment of his balance in the mud. Whatever was on his mind gnawed at him. The prospect of whatever it was frightened Runt, but he came forward anyways.
"Naz told me you came in from the city, but he never saw you leave." Clementine gave no sign he noticed him at all so Runt stepped closer. "Where did you go?"
"The World Theatre…To see Spool."
"You using the tunnel again?"
"No," Clementine ran a hand over his purple vest, "Promised Spool I would keep it clean. I just like to come here to think."
Runt nodded his understanding, "Thinking about what you're going to say tonight?"
Clementine shook his head, obviously distracted. "Can't. I saw her, Runt."
"Saw who?"
"Ira Glass. The Tradeboss."
"When?" asked Runt, suddenly desperate. "Where?"
"She came to the World Theatre the day of the concert. Before we even met with Teal."
Runt stifled his surprise with some effort. "What did she want?"
"Nothing. We just talked. About my music mostly. That was before I knew…After our meet with Teal I had to go back. To warn Spool about her. She was already there by the time I arrived. She knew where I'd be and where I was going. All I can think about now is how little I know about her."
"Did you confront her?" Clementine winced at that so Runt pressed him, "What did she say?"
Clementine kept staring at the tunnel entrance as if fascinated with that consuming darkness. When at last he found his voice, it was hoarse. "She threatened to finish what Moss started if we don't stop. She promised to set the Mud District ablaze and watch us all burn."
Runt's stomach turned upside down. Ever since Teal told them about Ira Glass he held out a small hope that peace could be negotiated. If Moss' actions were without the consent of the Tradeboss then perhaps she would be willing to make things right rather than risk a fight. The hope of a compromise teetered within him. With just two sentences Clementine managed to burn that hope to the ground. From its ashes, his anger resurfaced. Runt's fist went straight through the building wall to his left. Pulling it out caused the whole thing to buckle and collapse.
When the dust cleared, Clementine was looking his way. "There is no hope for any sort of deal with these people. We have to fight."
Not trusting himself to speak, Runt simply nodded.
During normal day hours, the Craft District was starved of any color. At night was when the district became alive. Not in the neon glow, packed street ways of the Flower District. No, the dark revealed the flickering tongues of flames that hissed on every corner. None more so than the main Vulcan Industries workshop. The building's high roof was over five stories tall and more than twice the size of any of the warehouses found in the Buffer. A monstrosity of brick and steel that formed the mechanical beating heart of the Craft District.
Clementine and Runt marched towards the workshop, black soot gravel crunching beneath their feet. Now that the Rangers were gone the guard were reposted at the border. They were a breeze to slip past thanks to Runt's noise deadening semblance and the dark's kind shroud. With no security guarding the front door, Clementine and Runt simply walked right in. It was like stepping into another world.
Over a hundred men and women laboring under one roof. Clementine could only spare a few quick glances to soak it all in. Didn't fit the character to ogle all that he saw when he was trying to look like he belonged. Life-sized models of aircraft hanged from the ceiling by bits of wire and rope, which amazed Clementine as much as it frightened him. Blueprints and papers beyond his comprehension were sprawled out over countless tables. At one work station engineers were busy assembling what looked like a humanoid machine constructed out of clockwork. Another group stood pondering over the disassembled parts of an engine. It was the most organized dissection Clementine had ever seen. In the corner, a group of sweaty workers were testing two different types of powdered Dust. One red and the other blue. The mixed powders once ignited filled the glass test canister with steam.
Amidst the controlled chaos of the workshop Clementine and Runt went unnoticed. At least until one grease smeared woman in a tank top stepped in front of them both. Her biceps were bigger than Clementine's head. The worker eyed them both with open suspicion.
"Who are you two?" she asked in a surprisingly sweet voice.
"My name is Augustus Clementine. My large friend here is Runt Braun."
She bounced a crowbar on her muscled shoulder. "No tours today. What is it you want?"
"If we could we'd like to talk to your boss." Said Runt.
"Marcus is busy in his office. Try again another time."
"It's an urgent matter." Insisted Clementine.
The woman looked between them both. Her eyes dragged down to their feet and stayed there for a while. Clementine knew what she was looking at. They intentionally left the mud as it were. The soot darkened it some but where they came from was indisputable. They might as well have been wearing signs around their necks. The bouncing of the crowbar slowed. The woman chewed her lip as she contemplated.
"Follow me."
She led them through the workshop, turning a few heads along the way. Just a few curious glances before returning to their work. They passed by the group working on the clockwork humanoid. The workers formed a circle around the machine, one of them holding an elaborate remote control. After a few button presses the robot twitched into movement. It made a few easy strides to a worktable where a cup of water was propped. The machine slowly reached out and gripped the plastic with stiff fingers. The group of engineers watching on holding their breath as the robot lifted the cup effortlessly.
A hiccup of a spasm coursed through the robot's mechanical body. Then the machine promptly fell forward, smacking its head on the table before hitting the ground. The water spilled and the cup rolled across the floor followed by frustrated gasps from those watching. Despite its obvious failure the robot tried to continue its orders. However, its head was bent funny and it was trying to walk while lying flat on its stomach. It convulsed on the ground as if it were having a seizure.
"You have to admire its dedication." joked Clementine.
Their guide grunted a small laugh, "Of all our innovations…we still flop when it comes to anything anatomical. The Atlesians are years ahead of us in that area."
"I see plenty of potential here besides that."
"You see prototypes. This is our experimental workshop not a production factory. Most of what we make here rarely gets approved past beta. Come on, he's just over here."
In the back of the workshop was a walled off section. Marcus Vulcan's private office. His name was printed in bold font on the door's opaque glass window. The worker knocked and waited a few seconds for the answering, "Come in."
They followed her inside, Runt needing to duck to fit through the door.
"Marcus," said the crowbar wielding woman, "you have visitors."
Marcus Vulcan sat leaning over his desk. A large man built like a true blacksmith. Years spent standing over some kind of forge left his skin blemished with shiny patches. All his hair had migrated from the top of his head down to his long scraggly beard. In his hands, he inspected a shard of raw Dust through a jeweler's monocle. Clementine wasn't sure what to imagine when meeting thee Marcus Vulcan. The last thing he expected was a child peaking over his shoulder. The little girl seemed to be inspecting the Dust shard with a monocle of her own which was oversized for her small fist. She had charcoal hair and yellow eyes that blazed like the fiery heart of a furnace. Marcus set down the shard and peered up at his guests.
"Who is it now?" His voice was rough as if he'd been swallowing smoke all his life.
"A couple of brown foots." Answered the woman.
Marcus pushed himself up so that he could glimpse his guests' feet. The man's face sagged upon recognizing the mud caked legs of his guests. He shot the woman a glare before easing back down behind his desk. His eyes, like smoldering coals, studied Clementine and Runt for an intense period of prolonged silence before turning to the little girl still on his shoulder. Those eyes instantly softened.
"Raina, sweaty, run along now. Maybe Hilda here will let you play with her crowbar."
The little girl slid down and skipped towards the door, stopping in front of Runt. She stared up with wide eyes as if despite all her father's wondrous works, he was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen. Her complete and undivided attention made Runt slide a foot backwards.
"Careful," warned Clementine, "or you might scare him off."
Flashing a grin, Raina raised her hands like claws and reared. "Boo!" she shouted. When Runt stumbled back, Raina snickered and scampered out the door. The woman named Hilda bowed her head to Marcus and chased after Raina, closing the office door behind her.
Marcus Vulcan leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. "Right, have a seat then. Go on."
Clementine and Runt took both of the guest chairs in front of Vulcan's desk. Fine leather seats. It was a cozy little office space fixed with a bookshelf and couch. A handful of miniature models decorated the desk. Clementine recognized a few he'd seen driving in the street or flying high in the sky. Lining the top of his bookshelves were glass bottles each with its own sizzling shard of Dust. Red, yellow, orange, and blue. The ignited pieces of Dust gave off their own dim glow. How they were burning and not exploding, Clementine had no idea.
"Brown foots?" asked Runt.
"It's what we here in the Craft District call our neighbors from the Mud."
"Ah."
"Cute kid." Complimented Clementine.
Marcus fixed Clementine with a menacing stare as if his compliment was anything but. Behind clenched teeth Marcus said, "Thank you."
"Thank you for meeting with us." Spoke up Runt.
"Yes, well when you're marched into my office I can't very well refuse you now can I?" He leaned forward lacing his fingers on top of his desk. "Don't leave me in suspense. Why is it that you're here?"
"We're just here to talk." Affirmed Runt.
"Go on then, talk."
Runt looked to Clementine who gave him a reaffirming nod. "Mr. Vulcan I've lived in Refuge for a good chunk of my life. Before that I traveled across Mistral with my family. Everywhere I went in this kingdom I've heard mention of your name. It's my understanding that you are a fair, honest man. A good man. Revered by his workers and citizens alike."
The flattery didn't register on Marcus' stony face. "Your point?"
"The point," interrupted Clementine, "in which my uncommonly large friend is dancing around is how could a man so praised as yourself be unaware that their supply of Dust is procured through slave labor?" his words struck home as he hoped they would, "Surely that is the case? That you are unaware that your supplier, Ira Glass, runs a slave quarry some miles past the Spine. Because a fair, honest, good man as I know the definition, wouldn't abide such a thing."
Marcus Vulcan's jaw moved and bunched in a slow grinding motion. "Seems you've already made up your minds about it. Why bother asking at all?"
"We were hoping to appeal to your better nature, but if you ask me, I'm not holding out much hope."
"Clementine, that's enough." Runt took a deep breath, "You said it yourself, we're neighbors. The Craft and the Mud. We were friendly once. Before they wedged the Buffer between us. What we came here to say is this. We know about the Quarry. We intend to do something about it. Your help would be invaluable, but know that we will continue with or without it. Still, I ask you. Please. Don't do it for us. Don't do it for the thousands slaving away as we speak. Do it for your daughter. It's our job, isn't it? To leave the world in better shape than we found it."
Marcus slammed his fist down on the desk, knocking over a few prototype models. "Everything I do, I do to keep Raina safe! You want me to admit that the Quarry is wrong? It is. I agree with every word you've said, truly I do. But none of that matters if my daughter doesn't live to inherit that better world."
"We can keep her safe."
"Safe?" Vulcan's mirthless laugh might as well have slapped Runt in the face. "There is no safe from her. Say I stand with you. It won't avoid a fight. But you're a big man. Who knows? Maybe we even win that fight. Won't make a scrap of difference. If Ira Glass loses, she will make sure we do as well. Victory will taste sour. I guarantee it."
"How can you be so certain?" asked Clementine.
"I've seen it firsthand. You think she took over a city plus half of Mistral's black-market trade without plucking the wings off her competition first? This city used to be rife with criminals. Violent gangs and corrupt aristocrats all vying for power. A back-alley war without an end in sight. Until the day one of them crippled Ira's father. That was the first day of the end of an era. Ira Glass stepped up to fill the hole left vacant in her father's seat. A teenage girl, round your own age. By the year's end she ruled supreme. The rest either joined her empire or fell beneath the rubble of their own. That is the woman you are dealing with. And I won't give her any excuse. Not one."
Clementine sneered, "You're a coward."
"Aye. I'm a coward. But I'm a father before anything else. If you live long enough, maybe you'll understand that one day. But now, I must ask you both to leave."
Clementine rose from the leather chair. He hadn't expected anything out of Marcus. Nor anyone in this city. He thought them one and all corrupt. They festered either with willing incompetence or careless indifference. This realization was less than a discovery and more like a final acceptance. As if he's always known. Since his last chat with Ira Glass his aggravation with the world deepened. The depths of his outrage were unknown even to him. In this meeting with Marcus Vulcan, Clementine shocked himself with his own ire. Still, even if he pleaded with tears on his cheeks the answer would be the same. Clementine knew better than to hope. Runt however, despite all he has seen was incapable of letting it go.
"I don't envy your position." Sympathized Runt, "But let me ask you. What happens when your daughter finds out? Because you know she will. A week from now, a year, ten years. It's inevitable. That's what none of you seem to understand. A secret like that won't last. When the word gets out that you not only accepted slave mined Dust but knowingly exploited it…How would Raina feel? Especially knowing you did it all for her sake."
Marcus Vulcan paled, "She will understand."
"Do you really believe that?"
Something broke behind Vulcan's hard exterior. Something fragile. The man slumped back in his chair, eyes fixed on nothing. "Even if she doesn't, then I will accept that. She will hate me until the end of my days, but at least she will be alive to do so."
Runt was slow to accept Vulcan's words. When he did, he too rose and followed Clementine out of the workshop. His movements were stiff like the clockwork robot struggling to walk across the workshop floor. As they reached the exit it fell flat on its face once again. Still it continued to walk, breaking its limbs against the ground.