Titans of War

WIP

I was sitting on my golem's shoulder when I noticed the ogre approaching me. I had been watching the rising dawn after finishing repairs on Duke, the iron golem I had been piloting for months. The repairs this time around had been simple, just a wire replacement, a nasty fireball had fried some of the connection in Duke's right arm. His cover plate was still open and I had been periodically rechecking my work with the kind of fastidious paranoia that comes with relying on this iron titan to survive. The wires were, of course, as good as they could get. Even in the event the cables linking the mana battery to the locomotion rune was somehow severed, the grooves created by the power inscription could still transport the mana, if at a severe reduction. I had heard, though never had seen myself, that early golems did not use wires or even mana batteries. Just extremely rare mana charged crystals and runes fed by carved inscriptions to direct the flow of mana. It did not take long for the engineers from the Order of Brass to discover that using bronze conductors encased in insulated cotton was far more power efficient and that using mana batteries let a golem operate for far cheaper. It had always struck me as amusing how simple mechanical innovations for what was the pinnacle of the ongoing wars defensive line had truly been. Swap the wild mana crystal with a rechargeable mana battery, encase the power line grooves with wires, drill in some grounds and voila, you turned the production that once cost ten years wage for the average man to only one year. Now the issue was purely logistical, not performance, yet before I could muse further the ogre had finally arrived.

I had purposefully moved away from defense bastion, this section of the trench line was well protected, housing one of the valued mana cannons, a munitions depot, and a forward post for command if our sector went hot. The recent skirmish had been a minor one, likely a probe by the elves, further down the hilltop where I had positioned my golem on to do my repairs I could see soldiers still milling about the trench line, resupplying ammo and performing routine checks. The skirmish had been minor only because a lord had been in the area, I was not sure which, but he had cut off the elven forces before they could even reach the trench line. Whatever stragglers had made it past were swiftly gunned down, but an elven mage had gotten within range to cast several spells, most of which Duke had taken the brunt of.

"Esteemed engineer Cormac of the Order of Brass!" Bellowed the ogre in a tone so loud and jovial I had to stop myself from shrinking back. We were almost eye level given I hadn't moved from my perch on Duke's shoulder. Being a goblin I could barely reach the man's chest if you counted my ears, ogres are massive buggers. The smiling man gestured back where he had come, towards the distant artillery piece further up the hill. "Me and the boys were wondering if you could give us a hand, our cannon seems to be suffering a few mechanical problems. Think you could take a look for us?" I responded bluntly, mainly because I did not want to get up after just finishing repairs on Duke. "I have never touched a mana cannon in my life, I have no training for repairing one."

He just stared at me with a small smile, waiting in silence. After nearly half a minute passed I sighed, "Fine... show me where it is." I slid off of Duke's shoulder. Despite my annoyance I took a liking to the ogre already, his uniform marked him as a battle mage so he was either a fraternal brother of the artillery men or a member of the same order. Compared to myself, I wore only a simple bronze jumpsuit made of insulated cloth, my rank displayed on my right breast as a member of brass order's golemancers. The ogre was in full armor, layered with plate and equipped with a shield and spear, all of which was thrumming faintly with magic. I glanced at the runes enchanting his equipment out of idle curiosity as the man continued explaining the cannons problem. "The power draw is increasing with every shot, we're having to replace the battery more often and it seems to be struggling to make its rotation left, we thought it merely needed routine maintenance but our usual technician was redeployed to the sector west of here." I frowned, not at what he was describing, I was not even listening. I was looking at his runes and noting his armor had a travel rune and his shield had a power rune on it, both were vastly different from the standard choice for anyone on the frontline.

He continued describing more and more concerns with the cannon and I continued to pretend to listen as I pondered why his runes were so atypical. I was not trying to be rude, but only another goblin would understand why listening to people describe the problem for a device was largely meaningless. What they thought was the problem and what the problem actually was were generally mutually exclusive. When we finally reached the mana cannon the other ogres were milling around. A quick glance across the ranks told me that they all belonged to the same order, if only because of their familial nature with each other. I did not spot any icons but that was hardly unusual. Ogres were always sorting themselves into fraternities, clubs, and different orders, it would be more unusual if they were not within the same group. The mana cannon was built to be operated solely by ogres, largely due to the nature of the machine itself and for the fact the controls, munitions, and power banks required the size and magical ability only an ogre had. This made artillery teams close knit by nature.

The cannon itself was a massive barrel welded to an even more massive rotating platform that could be turned in a set of gears and cogs. The system itself had several hydraulics built into the platform to sustain the cannons recoil while the rotation via brute force from multiple ogres allowed them to quickly adjust the cannons arc and trajectory at will. The 'gunner' seat consisted of a cushioned chair fit for an ogre and a desk-like stand that contained a spellbook, multiple maps of varying age and quality, and several ink pots, quills, and measuring tools. While not attached to the platform but no less important was the spotters nest, which was several telescopes on stands, a desk full of maps identical to the gunners, and the same assortment of writing materials and measuring tools. Out of sight beneath the platform and directly in the center of the cannon were massive cables that connected to a battery bank behind the cannons. The mana batteries here were the size of my entire body and charged on the ambient mana generated by the collected ogres. This many of them in such proximity made the natural excess mana they exuded compounded on each other. Several of them merely standing near the artillery battery was enough to visibly watch the power meter begin charging. More so when they began casting the right spells.

I was greeted with hearty cheers and waves and a few raised drinks and adulation so genuine they would sounded mocking if repeated. The ogre who had brought me greeted one of his fellows who was wearing similar armor, the pair standing out compared to the other ogres who wore jumpsuits or utility clothes like my own. What must have been the gunner approached me as I walked towards the mana cannon to begin my inspection. "Greetings, engineer Cormac, I am gunner Roque, of the Order of Star Snipers." He punctuated his introduction with a bow and a gesture to his fellows, to show deference and that he was speaking for all of them. "I shall leave you to it, but know that if you have questions I am at your service." He continued, he must have worked with goblins enough to know that trying to help would simply be getting in the way. That drew a small smile that surely he noticed, though he said nothing as I placed my hand on the side of the cannon.

This was always a process that onlooks would inevitably ask about. I cannot remember how many times I have been personally asked how goblins understand machines as readily as we do. Every single time I answer the same way my father taught, a method that was echoed by my mother, my grandfather, my grandmother, my great grandmother, and not doubt my great grandfather if he had been alive when I was young. We were always taught to answer, "We just do." It was simple, straight forward, and more importantly had this twinge of emotion that I always likened to the phrase 'I have faith.' It was simply not something one could dissect or argue against in good faith. In truth, the process was ... difficult to put into words. The moment my hand touched the side of the mana cannon I brought my other hand to knock the metal while pressing my ear against the still faintly warm steel. I both heard the faint ring and felt the equally faint vibrations, then, as if a voice was speaking to me without words I began to understand the problem. In the last maintenance cycle the technician had either forgotten or ignored the anterior belt that was starting to dry out during heavy fire cycles due to the generated heat, this was making the left rotation slow with each movement but that was a trifling concern to the power problem. The gunner must have been running the cannon in 'maniple' when he knew damn well he was not supposed to.

When mana cannons were first introduced they were slow to fire, heavy emplacements that required twice the crew they do now. It was dangerous to use for more than firing upon incoming hordes due to how far away the cannon actually was from the front lines. It did not, however, take much time for the ogres who used said cannons to figure how to improve their usage. The use of scopes, signal flares, and further improvements through communications with comms crystal suddenly made them as effective and lethal as golems would eventually become. Then the more experienced gunners began experimenting with different modifications and firing methods. Maniple was one such evolution, the method created a three shot barrage by overheating the brass spools and easing the firing pin in incrementally harder pulls. This caused the first shot fired to be the weakest, the second to be slightly stronger, and the third shot to explode with twice the radius of a standard blast. The problem with this method is mana is incredibly dangerous to pool in such a way, the tax on the machine is so great that even if every gunner learns to use the maniple method they are warned to only use it during heavy engagements. Without even thinking of what I was doing I lowered myself to one knee, pulled my wrench from my toolbelt, and tapped it against the metal floor where I knew the nearest power cable was. It was the same sensation, less words and more of a guiding instinct that spoke without saying anything. The gunner had been practicing the maniple method because the recent skirmishes were light enough that if he had made a mistake and the mana cannon suffered a malfunction the actual defensive line would not be compromised because ... My thoughts stalled for a moment when I realized that if the cannon went down then it was myself and my golem Duke who would shoulder the burden of keeping the defensive line safe. I discarded the thought for now, focusing on the work to keep myself from growing any resentment.

I lifted my ear from the steel and clacked my wrench against where my ear had been, my other hand still pressed firmly to the cannon. The vibrations and noise echoed loudly before confirmation came, the main power cable needed a full replacement and the anterior belt needed to be carefully but utterly drenched into oil during rotation. As for the gunner, I fell back on my training. I knew he had made a mistake, he knew he had made a mistake, if it had been a technician of another race he would be getting an earful, but just as my family had taught me never to bother explaining our understanding, they also drilled into me never to assign blame or accuse someone of being a liar even if the machine told you exactly what they had done wrong. Instead, ask them leading questions and give them an out.

"Looks like the last tech did not give enough oil to the anter-... The smaller belt below that access panel." I pointed my wrench to said panel, shaping my words to ignore the fact the technician had forgotten entirely to oil the belt at all. "You will need to drench it while turning it so the belt rotates and you can thoroughly infuse every inch of it, just do it slow." The gunner nodded, but remained silent, if he had worked with goblins he knew I was unlikely to chew him out over trying to practice using the maniple method, but it did not take a genius to realize he was worried I would report him. "The power cable to the main cell casings is also severely frayed, it will need replacement. Likely just wear and tear." Roque nodded but I saw his eyes glance away in embarrassment, because now he was sure I knew what he had done and that I was going to cover for him. "I can make the repairs now, if your usual engineer is away, but I will need two favors from you."

Roque met my gaze again, quashing his embarrassment as he said, "Of course. Engineer Cormac, we are always grateful for the aid of a skilled hand such as yours." I was already reaching for my crowbar and screwdriver as I replied. "First, I left my golem's access panel open, can you send a few men to carry it here so I can close it? Second, it has been too long since I have ate, I some tea and bread would be nice.". "Bread? That is by far too meager." Roque rumbled, already turning away. No doubt they had a tea kettle and a fridge around here somewhere, access to mana batteries made it easy to power up a few kitchen appliances just about anywhere and that commonly known fact lead them to stashing their better food and drink to dissuade the casual thief.

I turned my attention to my work, levering open the access panel. Despite the cannons being made for the huge size of ogres and almost exclusively being operated by them, the actual repairs were generally done by my kind or a rodentfolk. Once the panel was open I felt rather than knew there was a safety latch out of sight in the interior just below the panel, I reached my hand in and felt along the metal until I found it. The moment I touched it I simply knew this would prevent the cannon from rotating and thus accidentally crushing me once I was inside. I pulled it and slid myself face first inside the admittedly cramped crawl space. I was going solely for the power wire since I lacked lubricant for the belt. It was pitch black inside the guts of the machine and I could barely see a short distance in front of me, but I could have closed my eyes for all it mattered. Aside from the ogres foot steps as they walked across the panel above, the rest of the echoing sounds told me where I was, what I was touching, and what its purpose was at all times. I found the cable and more out of boredom than any other reason snipped the cable and kicked off my right boot. Using my toes I gripped the cable and began sliding it from the groove while I busied my hands with unwrapping my fresher wire coil.

Out of my own curiosity after pulling the frayed wire fully free I tried feeding in the new wire using my toes but gave up after the forth failed attempt. It was too awkward at this angle and eventually I resorted to using my hands. I was just finishing securing the ends and crimping the wires when I heard three rapid thumps above. Roque must have returned with my requests. Loosing a sigh I started the awkward process of sliding backwards out of the guts of the cannon before exiting the panel feet first. I switched the safety lever off and secured the panel before standing up.