SML Ch 70

Chapter 70

10. The Old and Suspicious Clockwork Doll

Despite having so thoroughly shocked Reynald and the others the previous day, the clockwork doll showed an astonishing ability to adapt to life in the domain, beginning from the very next morning.

Thanks to being boiled in lye water, the doll now looked reasonably clean and dry. From a grimy, filthy object, it had been “promoted” to merely an old doll. And as dawn broke, it began prodding Alex, Heide, and the others into motion, bustling about with surprising energy.

At first, it tried to perch atop Heide’s head and drag him around, but once realizing the elder’s legs were impaired, it changed its target immediately. Hopping onto Alex’s shoulder, it began acting exactly like a rider with reins in hand.

Perhaps it considered Alex the easier mark. After all, Reynald stood right beside him, and yet the doll never once dared to treat the knight-lord in such a fashion.

“You’re obviously trying to get us to go somewhere—then why not just say where?!”

[…….]

“What, you’re going to stick to circles and crosses again? Fine then, I’ll ask freely. Do you want to head to Aunt Philen’s fields? Pretty sure that’s where crystal clockwork birds will turn up today.”

[O]

“Oh? Really? I was just joking.”

Surprisingly, the clockwork doll was quite proactive in helping the domain’s people. Riding on Alex’s shoulder, it circled the fields, driving away the crystal birds. And not just them—giant earthworms and beastly springtime pests were no match for it either.

When the doll raised its arms to the heavens, summoning strange white smoke, monsters caught within would tremble and scatter in terror. The precise principle was unclear, but it seemed akin to what Reynald’s group experienced in the labyrinth. According to Serna, the doll expended far less power against monsters than when affecting humans.

“A convenient way to neutralize enemies indeed. Does it work on all monsters?”

[X]

“So then, it doesn’t work on stronger ones?”

[X]

“…Ah, there’s a distinction, then. Wait. This, too, is part of ‘selection,’ isn’t it?”

[O]

“So even monsters can be selected, just as we were? Meaning that instead of crumpling under the smoke, they’d emerge unscathed—acknowledged as guardians of the domain?”

[O]

Reynald gave a hollow laugh. So the white haze wasn’t truly an “attack” at all, but rather the process of selection itself.

If some ratmen, swine-fiends, or frog-beasts were judged suitable protectors, what then? There were certainly enough of them in sheer numbers. The thought held unsettling possibilities.

“…Still, communication is damned troublesome when it can’t speak. Hey, try holding this stick—could you at least write in the dirt?”

Alex thrust a rod into the doll’s hands, proud of his clever idea. But the doll glared at him, then flicked the stick away like a cat disdainfully batting something it disliked.

“Hey! Why throw it?!”

[…….]

“Let’s be clear: is it that you won’t write, or that you can’t?”

[X]

“Truly can’t? Or are you lying to avoid being pestered with endless questions by someone like Prince Serna, should you show you can?”

With a resounding smack, the doll thumped Alex on the head, then picked the discarded stick back up—only to press a huge X into the dirt. Strong or weak, its “expressions” would always amount to drawing a bigger O or X.

“So it seems you can only answer yes-or-no, no other form of exchange. Ah—perhaps because you’re an artificially created minion, placed here by another entity, your capabilities are limited?”

[O]

Though reluctant, the doll admitted it. That being true, the restriction was significant—how they framed questions would completely determine how much information they could learn.

Yet for all Reynald’s concern, the villagers greeted this newcomer with enthusiasm.

“So those mossy statues owned such a treasure before? If we’ve got this doll, does it mean this year we’ll all but stop worrying about monsters?”

“We can’t overuse it—the number of times it can be wound per day is fixed.”

“Still, to have help every single day! Ah, my lord… Is there any chance those statues will try to reclaim it?”

“Not for now, I’d wager. Its purpose now seems to be remaining at our side, observing how we live. And while it does so, it lends aid as well.”

The doll’s prowess at quickly dispatching pests that plagued their fields filled the farmers with delight. Compared to previous years of grim struggle just to protect crops, the assistance was revolutionary. With fewer battles in the very season most suited to sowing, yields would inevitably rise.

And, curiously, the doll gained even more popularity in a wholly unexpected way—

“Mr. Doll, say—today’s lunch should be roast bear, or a spring-vegetable sandwich?”

[X]

“…Sandwiches, eh? That better? Well, the bear meat won’t keep another day, you know. Vegetables could wait till tomorrow.”

[…….]

“I think roast bear after all. Thanks for your input!”

[……!!!!]

From casual meal decisions to earnest questions about love or personal troubles, the villagers delighted in consulting the doll. They were less interested in obeying its answers than in the act of asking. And if, enraged, it smacked them a bit for asking too much—well, they laughed that off as part of the fun.

“Maybe its charm is in giving only the vaguest answers? Even if you ignore them, it doesn’t retaliate beyond a slap or two.”

“When you put it that way, yes. Provided you don’t call it shabby or dirty, it bears most things calmly enough.”

So bantered Heide and Reynald. Indeed, an old proverb held that people do not ask questions because they lack answers, but because they already know the truth and need reassurance. Perhaps the villagers sought just that from it.

And so time passed in peace. Reynald noted, with some unease, how his vigilance toward the doll weakened. Since being brought back to the castle, it had acted as though it had forgotten all about “selection,” simply aiding the villagers day to day. Oddly, that very forgetfulness troubled him more.

It said incidents would occur… but told us not when. Still, peace is a welcome thing, even if worrisome.

According to Serna, the king had dispatched a royal magician to investigate the events foretold for the domain. Considering how reluctant the monarch was to send any help, even troops, this was a bold step. The mage’s journey would likely take a week or ten days.

Reynald was genuinely grateful, but worried as well. Might the mage too be dragged into the cycle of “selection”? Would they, in coming to save, be dragged down into the deep with him?

No… Remember what Arun asked: once all “incidents” are resolved, we need no longer fret over selection.

Perhaps it would prove better to muster more people, not fewer, to ensure that outcome. Yet the more men he gathered, the further he drifted from his dream of a quiet, retired life.

Hah. Even the simple plan of aging in peace requires hardship.

Either way, once the mage arrived, they would learn more of the doll. Until then, Reynald chose to watch it closely, even though his incessant questions only left him more confused instead of enlightened. He at last gave up.

So passed several more days—

One night, restless and unable to sleep, Reynald wandered to his window. There in the castle courtyard, by moonlight bright as day, he caught sight of a familiar back seated beside the doll.

Volant?

Rare enough to see him at the castle by night. Volant had his own home and field, so he only visited the keep at dawn and dusk before returning. For him to be here at such an hour—

Did he come to ask questions in secret?

Why else steal a nighttime meeting, unless it was something he dared not voice publicly? Even as lord of the land, Reynald felt it poor manners to eavesdrop on private troubles. Better to leave him be, and later inquire gently, face to face. Reynald turned back toward bed—then froze.

“…Wait.”

On the far side of the yard, half-hidden beside a tree, another tall figure floundered, clearly unsure whether to approach or retreat. Reynald immediately recognized him: there was no other in the domain so tall, with such long hair.

“Prince Arun?”

That rigid, principled man was no eavesdropper by nature. Yet here he was, skulking awkwardly. Curiosity got the better of Reynald. He stepped out of his chamber without hesitation.