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NOXIMILIAN THE CLOCKMAKER DRIVER
NOXIMILIAN THE CLOCKMAKER FREE

He had somehow heard it hovering before his eyes. Fax's body passed in front of the mechanical insect and he recognized it: It was the Proto-Noxine.

He had the feeling of being underwater and seeing the surface move away gradually as he joined the depths. It then seemed to the Xelor that space was literally upside down – the room had turned over, the window appeared under his feet, and the bedroom door, the way out, was now above his head. It placed itself as a vector between the bluish glow and Agent Mystheur, who realized that actually, he was levitating and now moving. A shadow could be seen – the oval-shaped insect was hovering on the spot. The light seemed to be coming from his bedroom window. With effort, the Xelor managed to just about open one eye. The feeling of weightlessness was pleasant and the buzzing faded as a bluish glow filled the room. Strangely, his body wasn't as heavy as stone, but seemed incredibly light to him. In that situation, you sometimes try to hit your ear – with luck, you manage to squash the bug in a single blow with the precision of a Pandawushu master and you don't have to get up!īut right now, Fax couldn't so much as move a finger.

An insect? In any case, the result was as unpleasant as a Moskito waking you up in your sleep by doing loops around your head. Renniks had told them to "get out into the countryside for a little while" – it was the first time they'd followed his recommendations to the letter! The thought made him smile and he closed his eyes. In his bed, staring at the ceiling, the Xelor thought about the day.

"Where I come from, Mystheur, you can be killed for less…"įax had missed the evening stagecoach that could have taken him home, so he stayed at Nada's for the night.

"In the end, Nada… deep down… you're a budding Sadida!" That wasn't common among Srams and Rogues! But Nada's parents understood her, and it was largely for their daughter that they moved to and lived in a more rural area closer to nature. She was going to use her ruse to do "Good". Nada recounted to Fax how she'd spent much of her childhood in the Imp Village with her parents, how she'd learned everything a Sram was supposed to know while she was there, before growing up and making her own choices.

NOXIMILIAN THE CLOCKMAKER FREE

It was the first time they'd spent so much free time together. They spent the rest of the day talking about anything and everything, except for the investigation.

"Do you have any idea what that could be?".

"ENIXON-OTORP… SUOV-ZEIFEM… Ah yes! 'Beware'…" So she grabbed the bucket and emptied it onto the Dragoturkey's rump, making it gobble vehemently, then deciphered: "What were they saying again?"Īgent Mystheur, not fully understanding, shrugged his shoulders.

"No thanks, Mystheur," she said before going off topic.

Fax's strips of cloth may have hidden his rosiness, but nothing could hide his embarrassment: Nada looked him up and down, somewhat perplexed and bemused.

"You Dressed like that, all wet, spreading… foam… on your mount's rump…" Fax observed, lowering his voice as he became aware of what he was saying, completely powerless as to his slow sinking into the quicksand of innuendo….

The Sram covered the markings with foamy circles, doing the Dragoturkey a lot of good after the initial surprise. "But…" – she took it out and stomped it on the animal's back, making it jump – "I'll get there!"

"No…" Nada confirmed, dipping her brush into the bucket of foam and water.

"Apparently, you still haven't managed to get rid o' the li'l souvenir Wahn Jolsh left us…" The Xelor noticed the markings on the mount's rump: Dragoturkeys could rest on the straw in the paddocks around her. "I already saw you walking in the slush before, but never in such lovely boots!"Īgent Skelet was unrecognizable she'd tied her hair into a bun and was wearing a dark-gray overall, work gloves and sailor boots. Inside, a dark-coated Dragoturkey was being brushed by its owner while pecking at some seeds.

NOXIMILIAN THE CLOCKMAKER DRIVER

An adventurer, covered in a strips of cloth, got out of the carriage, gave the cart driver his regards, and headed straight for the hayloft. It stopped in front of a charming stone shack. A carriage pulled by two horses was advancing silently in this vast expanse. There were a few trees here and there, timeless, their wide, swinging leaves exposed to capture all the sunlight. At the foot of the mountain, there was a green meadow that offered majestic pastures to herds of Dragoturkeys.