"Wargs…undead…bandit raids…'rodents of unusual size'–wait a minute." Shiloh squinted at the parchment she was holding as she stopped shuffling between the papers in a stack of bounties taken from several taverns and local noticeboards around Revaliir. Frowning, she stuffed the last one beneath the entire pile. "I bet it's probably some accident involving a mage and his experiments in his cellar." The last time she took a request as ridiculous as this one, it nearly got her killed and left her with a strong distaste for kestrels. It was another slow day at the Machinarium, and there wasn't much to do with the workers testing the hydraulic lifts. The basic mechanics were already done, but the tricky part was controlling the amount of force used to raise the moving platform so it didn't fling those standing on it into the ceiling. Thankfully her staff members were made of metal, or else she would be paying Angela an emergency visit. Nerine was in Canelux and her friend was busy with work, so there were no healers in Antikythera at the moment. All of these bells and whistles were for a new transport system she planned on implementing which would allow visitors and workers to travel between floors without having to climb an endless spiral of steps. It would also streamline the movement of materials and parts between the workshops, making things more efficient.

The Keeper of Tar Eisalae had a similar system working on magic platforms and teleportation, which was where she had drawn inspiration from. But using magic to transport tons of ore seemed too wasteful, and unnecessary. This project was taking longer to perfect due to how finicky steam pressure and translated force were interrelated, and there had been more than enough setbacks as is. Every now and then Shiloh would take odd jobs in between large-scale deliveries to relieve her boredom and to blow off some steam. Spending hours of racking her brain on blueprints and designs had its fun, but being cooped up inside for too long made her want to leave. 

While working in Serenitas, she had been thinking about many things. Assessment of her relations with her current staff was overall satisfactory, save for one individual. There wasn't much to do for someone like a battle-hardened fighter in the Machinarium's halls, even with the other deities stirring up disaster on the other continent. She was pretty sure the lord hated her guts, and it was completely understandable. After all she did basically strong-arm him into signing away the rest of his eternal existence…after breaking in and kidnapping him from his house. Most people would fail to see why she was so insistent on keeping Lord Albaret in her service with him being so uncooperative. The reason went beyond plain curiosity towards more of a clinical study. Through her observations she learned the bare minimum of blood a vampire could subsist on to stay coherent, how blood affected their physical and mental faculties, and most importantly–what happened if they abstained from it. 

Sifting through the request pile again, she found a parchment which had gotten stuck behind another. It was an unusual one, and the details caught her eye. It was a request from a small township in Koschei, a distance away from Kurayo and on the fringes of the cursed forest. They posted about a wight that was terrorizing the outskirts at nightfall. When the descendants of the men who tore down Parvpora's world tree were preparing to hold a candlelight vigil to commemorate their loss, it attacked them and made the rocky winding road leading to the memorial impassable. A quick check with Euripides informed her that a wight was a very particular form of undead, with a tendency to hole up in gloomy places like graveyards and cemeteries. It didn't take much for the deity to come up with an idea on how to relax tensions between her and the vampire lord. 

Milling about in the Marble Corridor, she was waiting for him to cross her path so she could 'accidentally' bump into him. If she approached him first he'd likely turn on his heel, and she had quickly learned chasing him down made things worse.

Serci opened the large doors of the mechanical temple barging in, almost stumbling on his own feet as he tried to escape the storm outside. Thunder still rung in his ears, the lighting still burned his eyes. His clothes dripped with the onslaught of the rain as he threw down his hood and let his tucked hair out. He straitend out his hair, twisting it as he squeezed the rain out. His body shivered as he adjusted to the quite and warm atmosphere.

Quite was a relative term compared to the storm that raged outside. Inside, there was a constant soft hum, tinkering, and hammering off in the distance. Even the thunder could still be heard, although dulled. When he was sure he would drag half of the storm through Shiloh's temple, he walked forward as he tried to navigate his way to the throne room. 

He owed Shiloh a congrulations on her accession. It seemed like only yesterday when they were running side by side through a horde of mummies. He softly chortled, remembering fondly of the desert. He and Shiloh had started off on the wrong foot, but he valued her friendship, thinking of her as a close ally.

 He was sure he was on his way to throne room, as he walked down a spacious hallway with elaborately decorated pillars. He passed by one, politely waving to Shiloh as he made his way to the throne room. About four or five pillars past, he stopped walking and back peddled, peaking around the pillar.
"Shiloh?" He asked, curiously. "I came to wish you congrulations, it is good to see you again, old friend." He said, kindly. "May I ask, what exactely are you doing?"

A familiar voice caught her attention, and to the divine champion he saw the same woman from Aysut, in the same clothes walking down the hall with the posture of someone stalking their prey. There was a steely look in her eyes when she realized that this man had somehow managed to miss running into the attendants. Reaching into her knapsack, she pulled out a freshly dried towel and threw it at his face. She timed her throw so the slightly warm cloth would spread out like a net right before it made contact. "Here, dry yourself off. Never thought somebody would've made it past the attendants before they could get them rain-free." There was that tell-tale 'soaked person' smell that she knew well. It was obvious they were new, as they tried going into the Marble Corridor first. Maybe it was their good luck showing up, as they bumped right into her instead of spending hours wandering in circles.

"I came to wish you congratulations, it is good to see you again, old friend." That made her pause, and she realized who this soggy mess was. "May I ask, what exactly are you doing?" "Hey wait…you're from that time, in the sand, with the broken pots and things." That was right, of course. He still had long blond hair, and hadn't changed much since she last saw him too. Then he asked her what she was doing. Looking away like when a child is caught doing something suspicious, she leaned against the marble wall. "Oh, great timing. You know, I was just looking for someone. He's around here somewhere but I feel like he's been avoiding me lately… A man kind of like you, but taller, with black hair, and scowls when he sees me. You can't miss him. He's the only one in here that fits the description." Yes, the only one. Everybody else in here right now was made of metal, and machine-like in some shape or form. Galatea and Coppelia still had ball-joined limbs even with their skin-tone colored shells and almost life-like human appearance. You'd never know unless they exposed their joints, though.

The mention of congratulations on becoming a deity made her sigh with exasperation. Sure it had its perks, but really she had a job shoved into her hands without her permission. She didn't feel much different than before really. Shiloh tactfully left out the detail that the person she was searching for was a vampire, just for safety. There weren't any healers in the place, and she wasn't ready to test the myth of vampires turning to ash upon their final death.