The Shop, continued
Dec. 5th, 2008 01:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerI got in early the following day, and had to wait for Liliana to show up to open the doors. I was seriously considering asking Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula for my own door key so that I could get going earlier. I had a lot to get done before the machine went off again, and if all the missions were going to be this hairy I was going to need all the advantage I could get.
“You're very keen this morning,” she said as I jammed myself into the chair and booted up.
“Too much to do, not enough time to do it in,” I said.
The quarries were producing again, and the cows and sheep were safely installed in pastures on my central territory, which was getting a tad crowded. I'd thought in the night about putting an extra wall of my own around the machine, but there wasn't going to be room, and in any case that would just make it harder for the hermit to get to it. I had him trucking along the southward road to check out the widget in that village. He'd seen the other two, west and north. Before he could look at the one in the east, I had a problem to deal with.
There were four tents in the bandit encampment. Four squads could theoretically fire them easily. But there were also at least six squads of actual bandits, and as long as the tents were up they would be replenished at regular intervals. They had a keen interest in keeping the tents up. I needed more men.
I looked at my watch. Twenty past eight. What time had the machine gone off yesterday? I hadn't thought to check. Idiot. It hadn't been that long before lunch, though, so hopefully I had at least two hours. I started turning out soldiers, considered walling off a spare territory or two and regretfully discarded the idea, upgraded the castle, promoted the knight, and started a siege engine workshop a-building.
Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula sloped in while I was still building up the troops, watched over my shoulder for a while, but didn't say anything. I got the impression he was a bit tense. Understandable, of course; if I muffed this one there would be an unpleasant blip in the supply of stock. As I signalled my now comfortably large army to advance, he turned away with a sort of sigh and went into his office.
The bandits fell, the tents burned, and I sent the hermit off along the stone road. I had no idea how much time I had left. Usually when something ghastly was about to happen you got a little timer ticking down, but not with this thing. I watched him plodding along the road, and even though I knew he was going a lot faster than he would have across open ground I still wanted to stick a divine finger into the game and flick him along a bit faster.
He reached the village, approached the last widget and walked around it a bit, looking it up and down. I held my breath. I knew in a moment that damned thing behind its wall would heave itself up and undo all the work I had done. Then he reached in and did something to the widget.
I was treated to a brief shot of each of the widgets starting to glow blue, and then the machine in the middle did the same, and now I got a timer. Ten minutes. Nine-fifty-nine.
“You must break down the wall around the machine, sire!” the hermit yelped. “Only then will I be able to neutralise it. But you must hurry, before the power of this restraining field is exhausted.”
Break down the wall. That would take a catapult. The siege engine place was still two lumps of iron short of the full catapult kit. One of the workers was lugging one from the storehouse as I watched. It should be doable. Just. Nine-thirteen. Nine-twelve.
I bethought myself of the economy, and checked that everything else was all right. The storehouse was comfortably full, townsfolk all happy. The villages were fine. Claim victory in your heart, I thought, and the universe will kick you in the pants and laugh at you.
I wasn't sure I was happy about all this technology popping up in a nice safe agrarian economy. I know I'd half-seriously wished for a helicopter a while back, but did I really want these people shackled to an industrial revolution the way we had been? I mean, obviously it was nice to have computers and such like, but sometimes I seriously wondered whether the good outweighed the bad.
Maybe if I could break down the wall I could break down the machine as well. A two-ton lump of rock down its gullet would probably give it some pause. Or maybe it would cause it to blow up and flatten everything on the map. That would be a bad thing. Leave it to the specialists.
Six-forty-two. The last lump of iron arrived at the workshop, and I clicked on the “build catapult” button. The catapult duly appeared, and I set it trundling towards the machine, and ordered one of my remaining squads of soldiers to man it. They, of course, were all still standing patiently around the remains of the bandit camp. More delay. Four-forty-five. Four-forty-four. All the fours. Two fat ladies. I was babbling in my head.
The blue glow around the machine flickered. The soldiers finally reached the catapult, and took several years to sort out which of them was going to stand where. I told them to erect the catapult. Two-twenty-four. Two-twenty-three. Two-twenty-two. It must be nice working on a building site. All you have to do is swing a fifteen-pound sledgehammer and drive a dump truck. I'm sure I could do that, given a few weeks training and a complete body transplant. Two-oh-seven. Fire! A rock lifted from the catapult and arced lazily through the air to land on the wall. Boom. Nothing. Another. And another. One-fifty-one. One-fifty. Keep firing, you sluggards, who wants to live forever? Boom. Boom. How thick were these damned walls anyway? One-thirty-nine. One-thirty-eight.
Someone was standing behind me, but I didn't have the spare attention to be startled. One minute. The wall finally fell. The way to the machine was open, and by the same token if it went off everything in that segment of my home territory was toast. Oi. Hermit. Get here. Thirty-six. Thirty-five. Someone get that man a horse. The blue glow was flickering on and off like a David Lynch lighting effect. I could almost feel the machine fighting it, straining to get up on its stilts and let loose. Twenty-six. Move, damn you!
He trotted around the remaining walls as if he was a tourist inspecting an ancient monument, and found the gap. Nineteen. If he demanded fifty wood now I was sunk. Sixteen. Fifteen. What are you doing, sketching the thing?
The blue glow died, and at the same time the machine sort of slumped sideways on its legs. Ten seconds to spare. I didn't even see the “Victory!” banner. I had my eyes closed. Someone had their arms around my neck, and I found a bit of spare brain space to hope it wasn't Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula. The rest of me was a bit busy breathing.
How many more of these ordeals were there going to be?
“Three,” said Liliana in my ear. “Well done.”
I opened my eyes. The entire map was green and full of life, and my people were dancing in the marketplace. If I hadn't been so tired...
“Would you like to come for a drink?” Liliana said. “Afterwards?”
I considered. “I'd like to,” I said, “but I'm really wiped. Anyway, you've got Jenny to think of.”
“Oh come on,” she said. “One drink. Anyway, I've got something to celebrate as well. Roger's coming back next week. He should be home for three whole months this time. It'll be our first family Christmas since he got this posting.”
I looked up at her. She was positively glowing. Roger must be quite a fellow.
“All right,” I said. “One drink. And don't let me forget the bike this time.”
“You're very keen this morning,” she said as I jammed myself into the chair and booted up.
“Too much to do, not enough time to do it in,” I said.
The quarries were producing again, and the cows and sheep were safely installed in pastures on my central territory, which was getting a tad crowded. I'd thought in the night about putting an extra wall of my own around the machine, but there wasn't going to be room, and in any case that would just make it harder for the hermit to get to it. I had him trucking along the southward road to check out the widget in that village. He'd seen the other two, west and north. Before he could look at the one in the east, I had a problem to deal with.
There were four tents in the bandit encampment. Four squads could theoretically fire them easily. But there were also at least six squads of actual bandits, and as long as the tents were up they would be replenished at regular intervals. They had a keen interest in keeping the tents up. I needed more men.
I looked at my watch. Twenty past eight. What time had the machine gone off yesterday? I hadn't thought to check. Idiot. It hadn't been that long before lunch, though, so hopefully I had at least two hours. I started turning out soldiers, considered walling off a spare territory or two and regretfully discarded the idea, upgraded the castle, promoted the knight, and started a siege engine workshop a-building.
Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula sloped in while I was still building up the troops, watched over my shoulder for a while, but didn't say anything. I got the impression he was a bit tense. Understandable, of course; if I muffed this one there would be an unpleasant blip in the supply of stock. As I signalled my now comfortably large army to advance, he turned away with a sort of sigh and went into his office.
The bandits fell, the tents burned, and I sent the hermit off along the stone road. I had no idea how much time I had left. Usually when something ghastly was about to happen you got a little timer ticking down, but not with this thing. I watched him plodding along the road, and even though I knew he was going a lot faster than he would have across open ground I still wanted to stick a divine finger into the game and flick him along a bit faster.
He reached the village, approached the last widget and walked around it a bit, looking it up and down. I held my breath. I knew in a moment that damned thing behind its wall would heave itself up and undo all the work I had done. Then he reached in and did something to the widget.
I was treated to a brief shot of each of the widgets starting to glow blue, and then the machine in the middle did the same, and now I got a timer. Ten minutes. Nine-fifty-nine.
“You must break down the wall around the machine, sire!” the hermit yelped. “Only then will I be able to neutralise it. But you must hurry, before the power of this restraining field is exhausted.”
Break down the wall. That would take a catapult. The siege engine place was still two lumps of iron short of the full catapult kit. One of the workers was lugging one from the storehouse as I watched. It should be doable. Just. Nine-thirteen. Nine-twelve.
I bethought myself of the economy, and checked that everything else was all right. The storehouse was comfortably full, townsfolk all happy. The villages were fine. Claim victory in your heart, I thought, and the universe will kick you in the pants and laugh at you.
I wasn't sure I was happy about all this technology popping up in a nice safe agrarian economy. I know I'd half-seriously wished for a helicopter a while back, but did I really want these people shackled to an industrial revolution the way we had been? I mean, obviously it was nice to have computers and such like, but sometimes I seriously wondered whether the good outweighed the bad.
Maybe if I could break down the wall I could break down the machine as well. A two-ton lump of rock down its gullet would probably give it some pause. Or maybe it would cause it to blow up and flatten everything on the map. That would be a bad thing. Leave it to the specialists.
Six-forty-two. The last lump of iron arrived at the workshop, and I clicked on the “build catapult” button. The catapult duly appeared, and I set it trundling towards the machine, and ordered one of my remaining squads of soldiers to man it. They, of course, were all still standing patiently around the remains of the bandit camp. More delay. Four-forty-five. Four-forty-four. All the fours. Two fat ladies. I was babbling in my head.
The blue glow around the machine flickered. The soldiers finally reached the catapult, and took several years to sort out which of them was going to stand where. I told them to erect the catapult. Two-twenty-four. Two-twenty-three. Two-twenty-two. It must be nice working on a building site. All you have to do is swing a fifteen-pound sledgehammer and drive a dump truck. I'm sure I could do that, given a few weeks training and a complete body transplant. Two-oh-seven. Fire! A rock lifted from the catapult and arced lazily through the air to land on the wall. Boom. Nothing. Another. And another. One-fifty-one. One-fifty. Keep firing, you sluggards, who wants to live forever? Boom. Boom. How thick were these damned walls anyway? One-thirty-nine. One-thirty-eight.
Someone was standing behind me, but I didn't have the spare attention to be startled. One minute. The wall finally fell. The way to the machine was open, and by the same token if it went off everything in that segment of my home territory was toast. Oi. Hermit. Get here. Thirty-six. Thirty-five. Someone get that man a horse. The blue glow was flickering on and off like a David Lynch lighting effect. I could almost feel the machine fighting it, straining to get up on its stilts and let loose. Twenty-six. Move, damn you!
He trotted around the remaining walls as if he was a tourist inspecting an ancient monument, and found the gap. Nineteen. If he demanded fifty wood now I was sunk. Sixteen. Fifteen. What are you doing, sketching the thing?
The blue glow died, and at the same time the machine sort of slumped sideways on its legs. Ten seconds to spare. I didn't even see the “Victory!” banner. I had my eyes closed. Someone had their arms around my neck, and I found a bit of spare brain space to hope it wasn't Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula. The rest of me was a bit busy breathing.
How many more of these ordeals were there going to be?
“Three,” said Liliana in my ear. “Well done.”
I opened my eyes. The entire map was green and full of life, and my people were dancing in the marketplace. If I hadn't been so tired...
“Would you like to come for a drink?” Liliana said. “Afterwards?”
I considered. “I'd like to,” I said, “but I'm really wiped. Anyway, you've got Jenny to think of.”
“Oh come on,” she said. “One drink. Anyway, I've got something to celebrate as well. Roger's coming back next week. He should be home for three whole months this time. It'll be our first family Christmas since he got this posting.”
I looked up at her. She was positively glowing. Roger must be quite a fellow.
“All right,” I said. “One drink. And don't let me forget the bike this time.”