Sonnet: The Cities of Steam, Brass, and Aether

Epilogue

Wait, locked in? How did he lock his back into place?

He took the time to look around the room he and his father were in, noting the dozens of prosthetics that dangled all throughout the room.

He looked down, seeing his entire body was made of metal. What the hell happened to him?!

"You are a lucky one, son. If not for your blood, you surely would have perished to the frostbite covering your entire body." His father said jubiously, bouncing up and down in Rodkin's face.

With a look of concern and worry smeared across his visage, there was only one thought that went through his head.

Father, what did you do to me?

****************************************************

Grilimir's head hung limply to the side, he was chained to a concrete wall within a dark room; deep in the inner cities dungeons, locked away in a cold, damp cell. He was being held there by Desmond Milzan and his own father.

There was an odor that lingered in the air. It was slightly metallic, and horribly putrid. It almost smelled like the rotting of flesh, or what he imagined that must have smelled like. The metallic scent was clearly the remnants of blood.

The thick metal chains were short and they were made to keep his arms constantly above his head, but he wasn't completely pinned to the wall. The effect allowed him to be held aloft even unconsciously.

"He said he spoke... with a goblin?"

He heard the gruff voice of a scary sounding man ask to somebody Grilimir couldn't see, but it sounded like one of the men who ran his group during Kimas. Blair's dad?

"Yes sire, he said that it spoke words. He even mentioned that it even knew how to use human technology."

That was his father speaking. There was no mistaking the undeniable disgust and contempt in the voice.

"Mhm... is that so? Well it is true. They can speak"

He daren't stir nor make any sort of movement for fear of attracting their attention.

"Sire? Really, but surely you jest. I mean we have always been taught that..."

"Yes. Yes, I know the teachings very well, mind you. But it is the truth. A truth my father hid from us for many years, but it was a truth he had no chance of hiding on the battlefield. You are too young to have been in the great war, yes?

Grilimir's father hesitated for a moment, as if he felt he was being judged for not taking part.

"Yes, my lord. That is true, I was too young to fight." He finally forced through clenched teeth.

Grilimir was well aware how his father felt for not being able to participate in the war. It made him feel beneath those who had, and there was nobody who held a more prominent position in the war than Desmond Milzan. Beyond that of the Milzani himself of course.

"Oh it's quite alright, I understand that you were young. I simply ask because if you had fought, you would have known the truth. The Faye scream, beg, and pray just as we do when they die. It doesnt change the fact that they are the enemy, and your boy here consorted with the enemy."

Grilimir allowed his head to relax, realizing he had been slightly lifting his head in the strain to hear what was being said. The mention of him was enough to bring him back to his senses though.

"Well, I suppose it's about time I had words with your boy."

Heavy boots began walking towards the cell door.