- THE LEVIATHAN -

"You are discussing the rebellion," the Leviathan interjected, picking up where the Blacksmith had... well, been interrupted. He looked to V-Onyx-Three, pausing with a massive brick in hand. He seemed thoughtful.

Though he wasn't a particularly reflective sort, he was certainly a different beast now--forced into consideration and calculation, weighing of consequences--than he'd been in that era. Back then he'd simply followed orders, gleefully. Hunting, predation; it's what he had been made for, or so he'd thought. Now his viewpoint, though unchanged, was more nuanced, at the very least. "The Blacksmith is being tactful, I think. The Forge you know is an echo of what was. A far more kind, tolerant echo, as I have designed it," he explained. That wasn't an excuse. The Forge was already more brutal and militaristic than the rest of the caves; one didn't even gain a name or personal rights without having earned them, first. Onyx-Three would know that, and Vargas knew that he knew. "From the beginning, since the Awakening, I have tolerated weakness, as it can be trained into strength. Then? Then, we did not. Failed designs were often culled. Disobedience did not have a list of punishments. We simply killed them and threw their bones into Canis," he went on. He was matter-of-fact. This was history.

Perhaps it'd be best for the Forge members, even, to know how far things had truly come.

"This was a nest, you understand. It still is. A factory of Chaos beasts for Him. To put out armies to fight Order through the cosmos!" Ahh, there it was: the old faith, the old dedication, strong with belief in Vargas's tone. "And in a factory there is no room for mistakes, no resources to be spared on failures. That which does not contribute is destroyed. But." He paused again, laying his brick and picking up another, and eyed Onyx-Three closely.

"We are all created with a will to live! To survive, to fight, to flee from danger, to live another day. To dominate and to thrive. So were the failures hatched with these! So did those who were deemed too weak. Conflict was inevitable." His history lesson over, he exhaled heavily.

It wasn't a sigh. Or at least, few would dare to call it that to his face.

"You must know that my task was to hunt the rebels. They hid, at first, in little pockets. They organized into a force later, but it came to nothing, in the end. We all fell into sleep. There are some still living, though they do not concern me enough to... Well, I leave them alone," he clarified, with a shrug of massive shoulders. "You may seek out The Storyteller, I think she calls herself, in Canis. If you want more of their perspective." He ignored the Blacksmith's stare. This was, for Vargas, incredibly... tolerant, and neutral. There was none of his old murderous fire. He was, instead, indifferent to their existence. "The world you live in is a different one. It will," and here he turned, holding up the brick as if to display it, "be shaped by our hands. Consider the world you wish to build. It must still serve Chaos; but it is important we do not prompt another war in our own midst. Yet we must remain productive. -That is why I ask you, and all the Forge, to speak when you have something to say! To offer your ideas. I will listen. And I will ensure the other Masters hear you."

The brick was laid, and Vargas's eyes cut again to V-Onyx-Three.

He hoped that this all made sense. That the child understood what he was helping to build. That he understood, as Vargas explained, that he could shape it.

It would be a forge, yes, one to churn out weapons of war as was its eternal purpose. But just how it functioned... that could be changed by its many smiths.

Ahh, metaphors.

@V-Onyx-Three

Onyx-Three took the cup of water and dipped the rag into it, washing the cement out of their fur. Rather than being alarmed about the possible burns that could result, they instead began to think about how it might serve as an effective weapon in a way. If you were able to drench someone in cement (and perhaps they did not know about the burning properties of it) that would be like performing fire magic without actually needing to use magic. But this was all incredibly speculative, not to mention still more ineffective than learning magic the proper way, not to mention cement was heavy and not the most abundant. But it was a thought.

As the Blacksmith spoke, they became aware of Vargas' focus upon him, and tensed as well, though they did not know why. They listened closely, even though every passing second brought more questions that they held back out of politeness. Vargas was not someone they knew closely, or very well, but even Onyx-Three was a bit surprised at how much information he offered, they both offered, at the question they had asked. They were surprised too, at how openly Vargas spoke of the change that had occurred and his own change in perspective.

And now Vargas was looking at them. They did not respond right away, continuing to rub at their fur with the rag as they thought.

"Why was there war? Did the rebels seek to destroy the Forge? Did they not only want to escape?" Onyx-Three could understand the motivation behind leaving if you were sentenced to death for being a failure, but it felt like even more of a death sentence to fight back instead of running away. Or were members a potential liability should they leave and be left alive? They remembered, then, the brief time they had experienced Order, and recalled how it felt. And still, the question: "Why was there a Sleep? Did the war cause it?"

Cup now empty of water, they placed the rag in it and set it off to the side. "I have a question that I hope to understand. What is the importance of a name? Why does a name need to be earned? Why do others not need to earn their name? I do not see how lacking a name at youth contributes to the Forge." They were not used to speaking so much all at once, and it felt strange now, to hear their own voice like that. "I do not mean to offend. Only to question."

Onyx-Three tried to add more cement but not much came out of it, but now they were much more focused on the conversation rather than the task.

The Blacksmith was fairly quiet. He worked, and listened, but to his mind this was a delicate conversation. Vargas was certainly a chaos beast, in a sense, despite his native element. It wasn't that he feared him lashing out, though he did not want the unpleasantness of provoking the temper of a Valkhound with his size and power. He didn't like arguments, regardless.

A glance at Vargas told him that he was thinking over answers, and so he himself focused on the task at hand, for now. He'd let them have their conversation, but now he was a little more solemn.

He'd been reminded of what it was that he was building, and why.

Trowel worked quickly and evenly; a practiced hand shifted bricks here and there. "We are almost... done with the basics, he said, before Vargas began his answers. A finger pointed to another set of stones nearby, differently shaped than the rest. "These will form... a hood over the back of the forge. A trap... for the heat. We will leave a hole at the front... and into this, the metal will be inserted. Here... I will show you. Each stone is differently shaped... each has its place. These are keystones. They go at... the very top." He began to layer these, gesturing for the cement to be applied between each and every brick, now.

They were progressing well, he had to admit. It would be a fine forge.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas grunted as he thought this over. Over-long limbs continued to lend their aid, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere as the Blacksmith gave his instructions.

There was a stretch of silence, and then he began again to speak. "Let us use the metaphor, the rather appropriate one I've already laid out," he suggested, with a glance that held perhaps surprising humor in it. "Imagine this cave were a forge. You are its smith, tasked with creating the weapons that will serve an entire army. You are ordered to create a dozen swords each day. Hundreds of weapons per Cycle. If you do not, you and all your work will be wiped out. Your armies will fail, and your enemies will sweep over the worlds."

A pause, for breath perhaps or thought, as he kept working. He moved aside to leave the dome to the other two, instead fixing up what had already been done, straightening bricks and moving aside excess materials so it was out of their way.

"Now, one day, the swords wake up. Those that are strong--they are pleased that they will serve an army. But there are a few, as there always are, with flaws or cracks in them, and these must be melted back down. You must start again, with them, to forge new blades. But they, of course, do not want that. They are alive, now, and now and then they try to cut you before you manage to destroy them. You could leave them, but then you will have a society of weak and pathetic blades eating up your metal, taking up space, plotting their own futures and fates while you struggle with your quotas. And then they band together, deciding to kill their very smiths. Do you understand-?" he asked, glancing to Onyx-Three. "They wished to live. We could not allow it. I am not saying they are wrong," he went on, earning another startled glance from the Blacksmith. "But their goals clashed with ours, and ours, ultimately, won out. I respect those that fought well. I have even given the stones of the best of them a second chance. But there is little choice in it. A forge cannot-... No, would not, then, tolerate broken metal that likes to bite back. As for your other questions: the Chaos Forge is an invention of this era. They did not try to destroy that, but the entire structure of the caves. There are places where they took over entire caves, barricading them from the rest--even blocking off a tunnel here in Draco--before being rooted out. The sleep came shortly after. Before we had dug the cave free, again," he added, musing. They still hadn't fully excavated the tunnel back to Cassiopeia. It was still closed off. "We should go about doing that, really."

"As for why, I was never given a straight answer to that." (He'd never really asked.) "Something to do with the shift of magic in the old Spire. It used to be Oilstone. I do not know when it changed."

He was still being free and open with his information. Perhaps it was unusual or, more likely, simply no one in the Forge had ever directly asked these questions of him. He'd never really hidden anything, but V-Chaos-Three was more intellectual and confident than most. "As for names: it is also, in a sense, a metaphor. You prove yourself worthy of a self, of your very existence. I will not kill failures, but those who are hatched weak--they must feel, too, that they themselves have earned their place." This seemed oddly heartfelt, as though he'd put a great deal of thought into it. "Instead of killing those who do not match up to the intended design, I give all a chance to succeed--or fail--on their own."

Hands shifted the bucket a little farther from the stone, to make some room to move, and he began to hand the appropriate bricks out to The Blacksmith and Chaos-Three. "In the old days, there was the chance to prove yourself, to make a name and advance. There still is. But that was only half the motivation. To fail was to die. Do you understand-? If I am to build something different, I require other motivations, other than the fear of death. The rewards that you can earn--freedoms of your own--some are taken from then, and others, I created to offer more enticements. This was never a secret, but you, I think, are the first to ask. You have more of a keen mind than some of the rest," he added, eyeing V-Onyx-Three directly and thoughtfully. "And only a few of you are creators. Most of the Forge are built for, and enjoy, destruction. Tell me: how well do you know V-Zoisite-One?" he asked, as though with sudden inspiration.

@V-Onyx-Three

They studied their hand, following the Blacksmith's instructions and layering on the cement more frequently now. This part was almost complete, and he was looking forward to being able to use this forge. There were memories being made here, especially with his conversation with Vargas. He was reminded of what he didn't know, which was a surprisingly good feeling.

"I understand." And it pained him that he did. Creation could hurt more than destruction. To destroy Order was justified, and he understood very well the dangers of what could happen if they did not. Creation was more personal. He had only ever thought as far as the creating itself, not thinking of what the consequences of it could be.

Though he had not killed yet, only ever hunted lessers really, not greaters, it felt like a greatly impersonal task. But creating something formed a connection between the creation and the creator, personal in a sense, like a bond despite it being an inanimate object. Though he supposed in the sense of the item being a child, a gembound, it really was like creating kin. And when your creations turned against you and wanted to destroy your life... he did not know if he could bear it. "I do not think I have the will to destroy my work." It was then that he realized Vargas was a creator as well. It was not something he thought much about before, but it seemed true. "How do you bear killing... your creations?"

"I would like to help with the excavation. Are there rebels there still? That you did not find before?" Perhaps if he went, he could talk to them himself as well, or explore the area. It was a kind of curiosity that he did not often have, but talking to Vargas now had made him realize how much he wanted to know about all this. And the Spire being Oilstone... that was strange. "Was Corruption more common before the change?"

The information about the names made sense. For those who needed more than the motivation of self-improvement, they served as a goal for them to strive for. But even then, these extrinsic rewards were bound to lose effectiveness over time, right? "What happens to those who have earned all the rewards? There is nothing more for them to reach for." And nothing more motivating them. This was not counting the opportunity to go to Cepheus or have children, but surely those got repetitive over time.

Vargas' praise sent a thrill through them. It felt good, almost as good as the Sentinel's praise but not quite. "I have not met V-Zoisite-One. Are they a creator?" Was Vargas suggesting they meet? He wondered what they did, and what he could learn from them.

The Blacksmith spoke up, then, his voice soft. "It is... admirable, to change. Tradition can be a wonderful thing... but what is stronger... is change. Keeping to... what works. Discarding... what does not." He placed the last brick on his side, and then studied the two Forge members.

"That includes... discarding the process... of discarding." This was said with gentle amusement. "An irony, but it is... a truth. The question is... what does work? You are trying... something new," he commented, this pointed at Vargas. "I hope... that it succeeds."

A gentle gesture was then directed at the mostly-not-lopsided pile of bricks and mortar. "I will hold the sides... Pick up the keystone bricks. Place them. Then we are... past the hardest of the work."

He piled the arched sides of the forge's large dome, having to overturn his bucket and stand atop it to quite reach. Vargas helped him; one by one he held the arches in place for V-Onyx-Three to fit the keystones.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas burst into rare laughter at V-Onyx-Three's initial question. It was almost a roar, guttural and explosive. He shook his head. "I do not. I was not always a Master! That is a recent--a very recent--development. It is why I am so careful with the Forge, Onyx-Three. I am on... a trial, even if it does not always show. There are eyes on me. On us. To see that my approach will work, or to see if it will fail, and return to harsher ways. No. I told you that I was tasked with hunting rebels. Digging them out, killing them. That was my job. There was time for little else." He paused, stretching his long forelimbs to extend beneath the dome the Blacksmith was preparing, to support it for the keystones. His eyes closely focused on the work, he continued.

"An Overseer's task may vary, and that was my title--Overseer. They may ensure work is being done, when creatures are tasked with it. They may look after a particular set of buildings, or a tunnel in the caves. Mine was to Oversee the Trials of Hydra, for one thing: to gauge a creation's potential, to observe the strengths and weaknesses of a given design, to collate results. For example, in this era, I have learned that cats!--feline creatures!--tend to excel in many things. Stealth, ambush, balance, reflexes. They require some tweaking for direct combat, and for armor--but not much. That was my task. Later it became the disposal of those rejected designs that fled or escaped deeper into the caves."

He fell silent for a beat, again focused on the work, and thinking to himself. Onyx-Three was asking many questions. It was the sign of a keen mind--and he noted to himself, with ironic humor, that once again he was doing precisely what he'd done for centuries. Observing, judging-... no, gauging. "There may be rebels," he went on, returning to his answers. "I have told you that the Lorekeeper survives. While more of a... an escapee, than a true rebel, I think, there may be more of them around. Some may still be sleeping in the blocked caves, although I believe we killed most of those there--dug them out just before the sleep. And yes, Chaos--it is Chaos, truly; I would be wary of calling it corruption. That is a... negative word," he added, and the glance he shot Onyx-Three's way was both cautious and thoughtful. "There are black Spires throughout the caves, some smaller than others--if they yet exist. I do not know why ours--our true Spire--has changed as it has. As for rewards, I do not know that you know them all. I have said that a Forge member may request anything they like! You may choose anything. Perhaps a stay in the Palace, with servants attending to your needs, and meals cooked--or created--to your specifications. Perhaps a time away somewhere else, or to be remade with certain changes... your imagination is your limit."

He paused, then, half-turning to meet V-Onyx-Three's gaze (or to seek it, at least), more solemn. "But if a Forge member only finds their motivation in striving for rewards--and not contributing to our work--I would watch them closely. The system I have designed is intended to augment and reward their actions... not to be their only prompting! To serve our cause, and aid their brethren, our allies... that should be enough." It wasn't, but it was something. He hoped.

His voice softened as he went on, seemingly at the mention of V-Zoisite-One. "V-Zoisite-One is a creator, yes. It tends to the gardens--the farms--in Pegasus, though few of us consume fruits and plants. It is still good to have. It creates lights, grows the plants, and keeps them alive." It is a good creature. Great inner strength, despite its sensitivity. He had always liked that one, and still regretted not doing better by it sooner. By all of Orthoclase-Alpha's half-abandoned spawn, really. "I would recommend seeking it out. I think you would both benefit," he added bluntly.

Perhaps you will both find a friend.

@V-Onyx-Three

They wondered if the Blacksmith's words regarding change were yet another metaphor directed beyond just Vargas' change in actions. Perhaps it could also be interpreted in the 'life lesson' kind of way. Onyx-Three was just glad that Vargas gave all creations a chance to prove themselves now. Although they had never considered failing or disobeying to be an option, the thought of other members dying by luck of the draw, the design they emerged with, was not a pleasant one.

Vargas' laughter, the suddenness with which it came, and the loud volume, caught them off guard. The fact that he hadn't always been a Master, or that he was on trial, was hard to wrap their mind around. "I hope we do not return to the past." Though they knew their opinion didn't mean much in the larger scheme of things, they also knew that Vargas had also said he was open to them voicing their thoughts on matters.

It was in this pause that Onyx-Three took up a keystone in his hands, carefully carrying it over to the arch. Then he reached up, over his head, planting them into place. The symbolism of the moment was not lost on him, or rather, he hadn't expected the placing of the keystones to be a part of the process that was meaningful. But he saw now, that though they had all worked together on the rest of the construction, the keystones signified what held everything else together. One of the last steps in the process that ensured the success of the rest.

The Trials of Hydra was something they knew about, and had even considered participating in, but had decided against it. Perhaps he should've joined. The mention of cats explained a lot of the designs in the Forge. But now he felt a certain added layer of competitiveness. Even though he knew it was impossible to be the best at everything, this was in the field of combat, something he cared very much about. Perhaps he should seek out more of these cat-like members to spar with. But Onyx-Three chose not to voice these thoughts aloud, as it felt a bit awkward to do so. It was better left within.

Then a different matter that caught his attention. "How did you become an Overseer then Master?" He understood the tasks of each, but he wondered how it had all come about in the first place. Had Vargas been a regular gembound once then promoted? Or had he been created for the role from the beginning? Was it a matter of age? "I apologize for all the questions. I am curious." Onyx-Three was aware that they were asking a lot, and wasn't sure if Vargas was wanting to answer all these things. It was tiring to talk too much, at least for them. He continued with the placement of another keystone, making sure it was perfectly aligned before letting it slide into place.

They hoped to meet a rebel, if not the Lorekeeper. But that would have to be plans for much later, after they finished much of the plans they had in mind. After all, such a thing was a more personal pursuit rather than something in direct support of the Forge. It would not be a priority. "Chaos." he nodded, keeping the correction in mind. They did not personally think that corruption was a negative word, but they would listen to Vargas on this matter. Perhaps it could be seen negatively by others.

Anything was a lot to consider. The usual requests they knew about, but even with the added benefit of any request, there were few things they really wanted. Perhaps they would have to think more about all this, especially when a majority of their thoughts centered on the idea of the past now, though they did not know how that would be spun into a concrete request.

They met Vargas' gaze, "It is." And it would be rather hard to succeed without a lot of intrinsic motivation in the task. Then, he thought, it was important to help his allies, but that could be done better if he knew them to a greater extent. "I should speak with others more. Then I will know how to help more." This was not only in the sense of crafting weapons for them, but also in case there were things they needed that they did not know about.

"I will do so." They did not expect them to live in Pegasus, though Onyx-Three wasn't opposed to going there. Pegasus was the one cave outside of Draco that they actually liked to visit. Like many of the other members, he didn't eat fruit or plants, but he supposed if he were to visit V-Zoisite-One, he might as well try. Was there a potential collaboration they could do? If the plants weren't all for eating, and some were potentially poisonous, could they be used to make weapons more deadly? "Thank you. I will make sure it is productive."

By now they had finished the placing of the keystones. Their arms ached a bit, the lifting and reaching motion hard on the back muscles.

The keystones now slotted in, the Blacksmith leaned back. He interrupted some, gesturing to the whole of the work.

For the most part, the forge was now built, carefully in place. "It must be... tempered, now," he explained. "A fire lit. Then extinguished... and more mortar laid in. So that later heat... does not crack it. But I will also place... a short wall, here. Can you build the fire... while I do this?"

He gestured to indicate a long, low shape to the left of the forge, extending out from the already-placed bricks. If Onyx-Three had a good enough imagination, the idea of a work station alongside the anvil and smelter was probably a clear one. If not, well, the Blacksmith was pointing at empty air!

"There is coal... there. In that bucket, and... this sack. I have... a fire striker... flint, steel. Here." He leaned in, showing V-Onyx-Three how it worked, striking sparks from one part to the other.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"Return to the past," Vargas repeated thoughtfully, eyeing Onyx-Three. "It is a difficult question. What I am doing? This is an experiment. There are those who simply want freedom, the freedom to wander and do as they wish. But look at those who live that way; they accomplish nothing. We do not have that luxury. In attempting kindness, I have wound up with any number of defective spawn," and that word, defective, was harshly enunciated. As though it weren't judgmental, but actually, vaguely upset, frustrated and even confused. "Those who seem to believe I will kill them at a moment's notice despite assurances that we have changed. Those who neglect their duties, who are derelict in all assignments. And those who paint themselves as victims, regardless of the chances they are given; in those cases, no amount of help will 'fix' them. They will always see themselves as persecuted, as pinned beneath the yoke of authority." It was clear that Vargas was thinking of someone specific, in this last case; he looked distant, his jaw set. He'd given Maximus so many chances, and what he saw as its lying and simpering was still baffling to him. Not for the first time, he thought I should have let Draconua kill it. It was certainly a sticking point in his "tolerance" experiment.

He shook his head, as if to shove that thought away.

"So we will see how it goes. I would rather a Forge that is both content and productive. At least you are a good marker of that, but do not feel the pressure to bear its fate upon your shoulders alone. Every member is an answer to this experiment, a result, and I must take everyone into account."

He fell silent as the Blacksmith spoke, and pushed back, making room. He wasn't holding anything, anymore, or helping; there wasn't really room to, now. When the smiths were back in the flow of their work, he spoke further.

"After the Great Awakening there were not so many masters. Many are missing, some were trapped or hibernating, and quite simply I was elevated to fill the need. I do not think that I would have been 'promoted' if there had not been desperation. And I was the only Overseer to awaken; the only one of the ancient era who attempted to return to our work." That was matter-of-fact enough. He didn't brag or claim any credit. So far as he was concerned, it was a matter of 'luck' (the bad sort, for the caves) and little more.

"Do not worry about productivity, not of Zoisite or the farm--if that is what you mean. I suggest it because I believe you may find something in common with it. Possibly, you will find its company... pleasant, or it will, yours. It is, I think, of a similar temperament to your own. No," he corrected himself, thinking. "Not the same. But enough that you might benefit from one anothers' company. As for speaking to others: do as you wish but your only responsibility is this forge. Be wary that you do not overextend yourself. A fighter who pushes too far into the enemy will find himself surrounded, exhausted. It is the same with all aspects of life."

Vargas paused, studying Onyx-Three. "Do you have any other questions, while I am here?"

@V-Onyx-Three