The Young Pup and the Old Hand were hard at work. Well, the Young Pup was hard at work. The Old Hand was busy supervising from a safe vantage point underneath a wooden table. Safe from any exposure to the strong sun or hard labour that is. There he was engaged in the easy labour of rolling a hit of hazia. The Young Pup took a break from moving the heavy wooden crates to ask a question. "What are we doing again?" "We lad are engaged in yet another punishment detail because the army does not appreciate men of our talents." The Young Pup shook his head, "No, no, no I know we're doing another punishment detail. But what is it that we're doing, exactly." The Old Hand shook his head. "Lad, lad, lad, haven't you learned yet that success in this man's army is not marked by how much you know but by what you know? Or more specifically how little you know." He took a slow lesiurely hit "But since you are consumed by youthful curiosity eating away at your very soul I suppose as your mentor that it is my duty to assuage that curiousity." The Old Hand waved a hand negligently around. "My lad," he said portently, "We are engaged in constructing an infernal engine." The Young Pup looked admiringly around. "Is that what all these bits of glass and brass and silver are for?" He shook his head in admiration and moved another box. The Old Hand leaned back and relaxed waiting for the inevitable question. It came from behind a tall pile of crates. "What's a whatchatmacallit?" The Old Hand took another deep drag before replying. "An infernal or diabolical engine. It is a magical contraption devised by a madman to bring death in some hitherto unthought of manner upon our enemies. They're all the rage among certain factions of the Imperial War College. They're terribly expensive but our marked lack of success here at Whitewall ensures that all sorts of options for victory are explored." The Young Pup emerged from behind the pile of boxes and looked even more admiringly around him. "Is that what it is?" A pause. "What's it do?" The Old Hand shrugged, "Haven't a clue. I suppose I'm not mad enough to know." "So who is crazy enough to know how it works?" "That would be me," volunteered a thin reedy voice. The Old Hand quickly got to his feet and both he and the Young Pup saluted the stranger. The stranger was a tall, thin man wearing shabby crimson robes. He was fairly nondescript looking. Well, that is except for the crystal skullcap that seemed to have replaced the back part of his head. Put a hat on him and he wouldn't have stood out in a crowd. He repeated himself, "I am the madman who designed this device." He walked over and took the hit of hazia that the Old Hand had been too flustered to drop. He took a deep toke before returning it. He waved his hand grandiloquently around. "This is my masterpiece. An inspiration from Blessed Rufelza herself." The Old Hand bobbed his head, "It's very nice sir." "But what does it do?," piped in the Young Pup. The madman took the hit back and took another toke. He smiled indulgently. "I would be thrilled to describe my masterwork to you. This device is carefully designed, using a series of mirrors and reflectors to gather and concentrate the Blessed Energies of Divine Rufelza herself. If my theories are correct the mirrors will be able to perform a series of different things depending on the phase of the Moon. On days when Rufelza shines Her Full glory upon us I believe the beams will have a healing ability. On those days when the Rufelza turns her visage away from us I believe the concentrated invisible moonbeams will be capable of either unleashing great destructive energy." He paused for another toke. "Or they will allow us to send Rufelza's most malign energies against our enemies driving them mad." He took another thoughtful toke before shrugging. "It's all good. Soon we will be finished constructing it." He turned and a mad gleam was in his eyes. "And then our enemies will feel Rufelza's wrath Itself." He walked off rubbing his hands together and laughing maniacally. The Young Pup and the Old Hand watched him walking off. The Old Hand made sure that he was out of sight first before shaking his head and saying. "Wanker." He shook his head again. "Let's make sure that we're reassigned before they try this thing out shall we." The Young Pup nodded his agreement. The Old Hand rested his arm across his shoulders and said, with his pride showing, "Lad, I'll make a proper soldier out of you yet."
Oliver
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