Achile Hammer - God of the Forge

On the Planet of the Forge, there was no merriment, neither art nor culture, neither civilization nor technology, nor creativity (certainly not in the naming of the planet, anyway). For Achile Hammer, a single planet encompassed the entire domain of her universe. That planet was rich in minerals and the primitive equipment and bodies necessary to mine it.

Oh, and fire. Plenty of fire. From open flames to jets of flame, jets of hot air, geysers of hot air, geysers of lava, pools of lava, volcanoes, steam vents, or simply hot, hot surfaces of every composition, the Planet of the Forge was not a hospitable place. Even if one could tolerate the heat, it would hardly be a tourist attraction. The people of this planet were the hardiest souls of their various races and species, often traded to Achile by other deities in return for her bespoke, custom-made magical weapons, armor, and trinkets. All of them were humanoid, in order to allow common tools and scant lodgings to be shared between them; all of them were heat-resistant, either naturally or through an incredibly painful process of reincarnation from repeated exposure to the planet's flames; to a one, each of their lives was a dull, miserable existence.

Such was another day for Strom, a former human, now barely recognizable as such due to the craggy, calcified rock that had long since taken place of his skin. Rapid evolution was a necessity here, although it only seemed to extend to functions necessary to allow one to live and work. Strom had grown out of praying that one day, he or one of his fellow laborers would evolve some capability useful to free them all from the tyrannical reign of their ruler. Developing a thick skin against hopes and prayers was an evolutionary advantage here, as well. Day after day, Strom woke up; he threw on his clothes, an orange jumpsuit not unlike the kind on an Earth prison; he ate a tasteless, utilitarian breakfast; he grabbed the day's protective gear, including gloves and boots that would surely be molten slag by the end of a single day of labor; he began his work of ferrying rare and fantastic metals from the machines which mined them, up to Achile's iron palace, called the Forge, at the top of the hill.

Still, every night, in the scant bit of sleep he was afforded, he held onto his unspoken dream: seeing Achile brought low, seeing his fellow captive souls freed. Surely, this planet was the greatest hell available in the afterlife. It had enough similarities to the biblical hell he was aware of from his homeworld that it could qualify. Surely, once they were free, there was some eternity waiting for them somewhere other than this.

Strom had mostly outgrown regrets along with memories, but if there was one he did have, it was sharing his former dreams for rebellion and escape with Boler, the stout stone elemental he shared a cabin with. Boler was newer than him, and he seemed ill-suited for the life. Not because of poor fire-resistance, as Boler's natural stone body resisted burning quite well, and not because of any physical imperfection. No, Boler had a tendency to dream big and run his mouth, without any of the prerequisite brains to back it up. What was worse, Boler had a peculiar taste for an elemental, a taste which Strom had incorrectly assumed would quickly be shed as an evolutionary disadvantage:

"Girls!" Boler hissed at his carrying partner at the other end of the massive slab of ore they were carrying for processing. "Last night, I had a dream about 'em. You know girls, right, Strom-Man? You know, boobs, butts, soft skin, no rocks?

"I recall women. No need to remind me." Strom grunted, hoping that would terminate the conversation.

"I remember girls. I liked the big ones. Hell, sometimes I even think we got girls round here, but big ol' rocky ones. I think that's too big, honest. Whatcha think, Strom-Man? Any girly parts under all them rocks? Say, you'd tell me if you were a girl, right?"

Strom hoped that his silence would indicate he didn't intend to speak of anything, about his body or otherwise. When he sensed Boler was about to start back up, he let out a weary sigh and interrupted him. "What use is it to imagine? When has either of us had two seconds to talk to anyone who wasn't at the other end of a block we were carrying? We eat our meals alone. We carry our burden in a single-file line. You know the penalty for anyone who steps out of line."

"Uh, yeah. 'Firin' squad,' hehe," the stone elemental joked without humor. "Except it ain't a squad, and there ain't no guns. I wish. By firin' squad, I mean ol' Achile lights you up like a fireplace."

"Why are you telling me this?" Strom asked, genuinely. Boler was recalling a painful experience all of them were well-aware of. It turned out that Achile was capable of turning up the heat when she wanted to, far beyond the mundane flames that already made this place seem like hell. No, for seemingly any infraction, even for things as petty as leaving a single-file line or asking her a question, Achile was liable to cast her gaze upon the unfortunate soul and use her divine power to make them instantly combust, in a way that no heat-resistance seemed to offer any protection against. Once turned to ash, the poor soul was quickly reincarnated, snapped back into existence as something with more heat resistance. But never enough.

"No reason. Makin' conversation. Can't stop thinkin' about girls today," Boler admitted before going briefly, blessedly silent. Only to begin again after a brisk minute. "You think things'll always be this way?"

"Yes," Strom answered immediately.

"Oh. Huh. I don't think I could take it."

"You can. You will."

"Huh."

Boler seemed depressed by that thought. "Good," Strom thought to himself. Depression meant quiet... As he gave it a second thought, maybe Boler hadn't gone quiet because he was depressed. Maybe he was thinking about girls instead. That was fine, too, as long as he shut up.

Finally, the two reached their destination. The hot black metal of Achile's castle forge screeched, groaned, and billowed at all hours of the day, shimmering with heat unlike any other location on the famously hot planet. As others continued by to deposit their hauls in the appropriate material piles, Strom and Boler continued a little bit farther. They were carrying a rare, luminescent ore chunk the size of an Earth vehicle. Still, the remaining distance was a brisk jog compared to the hours-long journey up the mountain they'd just made, so it was hard to complain about that. The more worrying part was who they were making the delivery to.

Ahead of them, in full plate armor that obscured her entire body, stood Achile Hammer. Her back was turned to them. She could easily be a statue or a machine if not for the bushy white hair that fell wildly down and around the back of her helmet to shoulder length, each strand tipped in a licking red flame. The armor itself was jet black, just like her castle, with little in the ways of glorifying adornment. Instead, it was clearly intended to inspire fear-- heavy plate with sharp edges, but with no decoration. The full visor completely hid her eyes. It was reasonable to expect that a Goddess had no need to see the same way as a mortal.

Strom and Boler stood in the large doorway. It was large, but only just large enough for two stocky rock-enhanced men and their gigantic ore payload. Strom was just about to put it down, eager to do so before Boler could make a hair-brained move like clearing his throat for the Goddess's attention, when they realized the Goddess wasn't alone. She was speaking to someone in front of her... Or, rather, that person was mostly speaking to her.

The two heard a woman's voice. It didn't have the harsh edge they expected from a deity who ruled over mortals; still, it sounded impatient this particular moment, vexed. To Strom, it was familiar. This person was one of Achile's regular customers. If he could see her, he assumed she'd be the same as she'd been before: dressed in resplendent robes with an enormous jeweled mantle, a mature woman with short, straight, chin-length gold hair, a monocle, pointed ears, and a perpetual smile on her painted lips. In reflection, he was glad Boler couldn't see her; that woman's refined but devilish smile would likely be seared into his cabinmate's mind, and then he'd never shut up.

Speaking of people being seared, Strom was trying to come to terms with the fact that they were surely about to be exposed to that "firing squad" Boler had joked about before. There was no way out of this. Strom ran through the scenarios in his head: they could drop the ore with a loud noise and be incinerated without a chance to explain; they could announce their presence and be incinerated for daring to interrupt; they might have a chance if they could back away slowly, but Strom knew there was no way Boler was going to pick that option without having it dictated to him beforehand.

As it turned out, none of those things happened. To his surprise, the woman he'd expected Achile was talking to peeked over the shoulder of her conversation partner, her smile widening as she observed the two laborers. "Very good, perfect timing. You two, there. Step forward, please. Into the room. Quickly, now. Set that down just over here."

Boler began to move. Strom didn't. The latter knew this had to be a test. Why would Achile's minions move when ordered by anyone other than her? He braced himself for one side or the other of the ore to fall as one of the two of them became otherwise preoccupied with dying in a fire.

Another surprise. Achile didn't raise her hand. Instead, the woman's voice, a rough thing that barely sounded like a woman, came from the suit of armor as she stared at them. "Do what she says."

Strom gulped and did as she said. He moved forward into the room and worked with Boler to set the rock down with a castle-shaking thud.

The blonde Goddess didn't address them. "You see? Achile? This is a chunk of raw Mastazalite, one of the rarest materials in your universe. In any universe. This material appears once every hundred years. No deity knows how to synthesize it naturally, intentionally. We rely on your furnace for its production and refinement. Do you understand? It's very rare. Valuable. Do you know what val-u-a-ble is, Achile? It means it's important to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Achile's rough voice came back.

The situation was startling to Strom. It raised all kinds of questions. Who was this woman who had the power to talk down to Achile? How powerful, how terrifying of a goddess must she be? Why were he and Boler being tasked with carrying up something so valuable it appeared once every hundred of years as if it was barely different from any other kind of rock, without any supervision? There'd be time for pondering these questions later, when his rocky knees weren't quaking from the double perils of his difficult labor and his imminent doom.

Boler seemed to have other questions on his mind. "Well hello ma'am! Ya come to these parts very often? What am I sayin', classy lady like you wouldn't be caught dead around this hellhole. I can tell you ain't from around here. Name's Boler. You are?"

The blonde turned her eyes to Boler, still smiling. "Relzel, Goddess of Rarities. How charming, this one talks. Achile, would you?"

Without a second for anyone to react, the armored Goddess planted her feet on the stone floor and held her arms forward. There was no chant, no warning except for context. In a second, Boler was a screaming ball of fire. Next, he was a pile of molten slag, with a new body probably forming and recuperating in his cabin. Strom couldn't chase away the dark thought. "Wonder if he's dreaming about women now."

The rock-human braced himself for the same fate, but was surprised to find himself ignored as the scolding resumed. Relzel pointed a thin, ringed finger at the pile of Mastazalite ore she was concerned with. "Achile, you are tasked with the relatively simple burden of collecting valuable ore, refining it, and using it in the creation of items created to very exact specifications. Do you understand what your carelessness in this matter has cost me?" She reached down to her feet and briskly brought up a helmet that had, previously unseen, been resting there. It glowed with the same luminosity as the precious Mastazalite. "This is supposed to be a Helm of Deification. This is supposed to grant its mortal wearer the power of a God. I was to provide it to a client to initiate a mortal uprising among his competitors. I was to be granted a very rare, high-spec universe in return, one occurring in nature but rich in statistically improbable impurities and yet maintaining high livability with a low doom factor. I know none of that means anything to you, but I want your pea-brain to understand that because of your tiny mistake, the product is flawed! Irreparable! Worthless!" she shouted furiously, chucking it with an improbable jet-boom at the other Goddess's helmet.

It hit with a noise like a hammer striking a bell, but didn't seem to phase Achile. She remained in place, her helmet un-dented. "I apologize. I understand."

For his part, Strom had been cautiously backing away, now that he didn't have a partner in crime to coordinate the maneuver with. He side-stepped the ricocheting projectile gingerly as he could with his stone-covered feet, ignoring it. All he was concerned about was managing to leave the chamber on his own two feet, rather than through a sadistic flambe and reincarnation.

Luckily, the one-sided conversation continued without him. "I don't believe you do understand. You have presented me two failures today, Achile. Two! You know what? That Golden Chain you ruined? The extremely costly item that is supposed to serve as a tool to subjugate even the Gods? Ooh, that one hurts. So close, yet so far. Almost a perfect tool of the divine. But immortals demand perfection. No one among them will shell out for tarnished goods. I want you to keep that in the corner of your workspace here as a reminder of your failure and of your duty. When I come back, it is the only failure I intend to tolerate. Do I make myself clear?"

Strom barely heard the quiet affirmative response as he began his trek down the mountain. None of the squabbles of Gods concerned him; they were in their own world. His bed was waiting for him at the bottom of the hill, and while the journey down was easier than the journey up, he had to do it on sore legs. He'd best start walking before curfew hit or he'd find himself made charcoal in spite of his good fortune until now-

He heard a crunch. Realizing he'd stepped on something, Strom bent a knee and reclaimed what looked like metal scrap from beneath his sole. It wasn't, however: it was the helmet that Relzel had cast from the chamber in disgust. It looked even worse than when she'd thrown it. "Guess all that Mastazalite does little for its durability," he commented to himself. He rubbed his chin in thought. It was a lucky find. He could keep it in his cabin as a pleasant reminder of the only time he'd likely see his tormentor brought low by a more powerful being.

He wasn't thinking much about what he did next. Maybe it was just a way to keep his hands busy on the long walk; maybe he was more attached to his trophy and wanted it more presentable, after all. For whatever reason, Strom began using his powerful hands to work the dents out of the surprisingly malleable metal. By the end of his walk, it ought to be back to the shape of a helmet, if not one large enough for his craggy, oversized head.

---

Boler woke in the middle of the night from a horrible dream. It was always this way after the immolation, he'd found. Nobody got a good night's sleep from that. Almost worse than waking up from the dead was realizing he was doing it in the dead of night. Someone who had to work as hard as he did savored every hour of unbroken sleep they could earn. He sighed and passed his ruby-like eyes over his body. New scars, harder calcification. Enough to stand Achile's next scorching? Never.

He groaned, looking over at the other man in the cabin, sleeping like a stone. Well, of course, he was covered in stones, but the point was his sleep was restful. His hump of a body rose and fell like humans' did, and he snored loudly. "Ya know, Strom-Man, I know you don't think I'm a great roommate, but let me tell ya: it ain't always sunshine and rainbows sharin' one with you," Boler muttered to himself. He wasn't just annoyed; he was jealous. "What gives? Why is Strom-Man sleepin' like he didn't become Strom-Flambe?"

As he made his way over to Strom's bedside, he saw something had been placed next to the stone-human's pillow. It looked like a helmet... Well, really, it looked like garbage. Like someone's Blacksmithing 101 graduate thesis, and not one they were passing with. Still, it had a certain shine to it... Boler figured it had to be important, if his cabinmate had put it right next to his pillow where the constant faint glow could affect his sleep.

Just then, Boler had a great idea, by his own definition. He was going to pay Strom back for being the only one to leave the mountain on his own two feet. That helmet was too small for his buddy's craggy dome, but it just barely fit Boler, he figured... Well, 'fit' was a generous term, but seeing as his face was made of rocks he wasn't too worried about getting nasty scratches from sharp edges. Finally, he shook Strom from his sleep, then stood over him with a mad grin. He cleared his throat and tried on a cheesy low growl. "Awaken, you miserable pile of masonry! It is I, Achile, Goddess of Unpaid Labor! By my command, you shall carry all the shitbricks up the Hill of Hilarious Length and to my Fortress of Complete Unfuckability!"

Strom had been groggy, but as soon as he heard this and saw the speaker, he let out an embarrassing yelp and attempted to bow. "M-my apologies, great Achile! Your labor shall be done at once, just, please, don't burn me... I share this living space with another, who is innocent-"

Boler's roaring laughter broke the other man's chain of apologies. He hadn't laughed this much in a long time; he might have to try pranks more often. "What the hell, Strom-Man? You're using me to beg?!" When he saw the terror on his friend's face hadn't been replaced with recognition, he showed the stalactites of his teeth in a grin. "It's me, Boler!"

"Boler, you..." Strom began. Just as Boler was figuring the other man would throw a punch and he'd get to find out how protective this helmet was, Strom instead prostrated himself. "Forgive me, great Boler! I did not realize you had ascended to Godhood. It may be impertinent, but due to our shared history, I beg you, please spare this humble servant's living space from your righteous fury!"

The confused God paused, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He knew this wasn't a counter joke, because Strom was the one delivering it. "Man, did Achile take your eyeballs or something? It's me! Boler 'the Boulder,' nickname pending. Is this about your helmet?"

"Oh great Boler 'the Boulder,' I beg your pardon. That helmet is simple rubbish I collected from the meeting where you were... um... from the other day, you recall. I cannot imagine it is significant in any way to an immortal like you, but you are welcome to claim it as your own."

"Ew, nevermind, can the 'Boulder' thing. Feels weird comin' from you." Really, the whole thing felt weird. What had happened after he was incineration-ported out of the forge? "Uh... Whatever's goin' on here, I need you to do two things. First, recognize you and I are still Strom-Man and Boler, ain't nothin' a funny helmet changes about that. Next, I want you to calm down and tell me everything that happened at the forge after I ate shit. All the details, okay? But make it fast, because we're burning sleep time."

Strom seemed to calm down and relayed it all in detail. He told Boler about the identity of Relzel and the way she had talked down to Achile; he told of the flawed Helm of Deification that Boler now wore, although he did not in any way seem to recognize it as the source of his formerly mortal acquaintance's new, legitimate godhood; he told of the failed Golden Chain that was intended to subjugate Gods, still lying in Achile's chambers; he finished with his recovery and repair of the helmet.

Boler realized he had important things he needed to do, but before he could, he really wanted to clear something up. "So, Strom-Man. You recognize that Achile built a helmet that gives people god-like power?"

"Yes."

"And you picked it up, knocked out the dents, and brought it to our crib?"

"Yes."

"And I'm wearing it now, and now you think I'm a God."

"Yes, but... Begging your forgiveness, great Boler. That helmet is flawed. I heard as much, myself. It cannot possibly be the source of your legitimate claim to Godhood."

"Oookay. Okay. Thanks for clearing that up," Boler sighed. "Well, all this tells me is that this baby's still got some of that magic god-juice in it, despite what those ladies thought. Now, I'm not a violent guy, but picture it, Strom! If I could snap my fingers and set people on fire like Achile, we might just have a ticket outta here. But I don't feel godlike... Not like I can just whistle and burn our cabin down, anyhow."

"Please don't!"

"I said I can't!" the stone elemental declared in exasperation, slapping a hand to his face. "Geez, go back to sleep, Strom-Man! Get some of that shut-eye you humans love. Meanwhile, I'm gonna go make good use of this daylight. I gotta go practice my God-Fu while there's still time if I'm gonna get my on Ol' Toasty Bits. Finally, we've got some hope, and I've got a plan... I can't wait to leave this place!"

---

"My ass is never leavin' this place!" Boler cried, slumping onto his knees in the practice space he'd cleared just outside the front door of his residence. The red sun was already beginning to rise, and the dark sky was taking on the blood-red color it'd remain for the rest of the workday. And, if nothing changed soon, that was exactly what it'd be: a workday. Boler had tried every method of shouting, reciting incantations, and grunting really hard he could think of. Was there some key needed, after all? Was this just a prank being played on him by Strom, who'd suddenly grown a funny bone? All Achile had needed to do to turn him into barbecue was turn his way and maybe lift a hand. He almost wished she was here so he could ask her how it was done.

"Excuse me."

Boler nearly fell backward onto his butt in reflexive prostration. Failing that, he still bowed in the direction of the voice: it belonged to Achile, who had apparently descended from the mountain to sound the morning gong. He'd never been incinerated two times so quickly in succession, but before he could wonder if that was coming, he was able to realize he was still standing. This was the longest he'd stood before Achile's withering gaze without immediately perishing. He realized this might be his chance. Maybe what the helmet responded to was danger! Maybe he'd awaken to his great power when he needed it most. "Great Achile... I wanted to say... See you in heeell!!" He suddenly raised his head with intensity to stare straight into her visor, raising his hands in a palm out gesture in front of him. "Pyreball! Great blaze! Inferno! Burn to the ground haaaaaaahiyaghraaahoo!!"

All his attempted incantations had done was create an awkward silence. He awaited his imminent as she gave him a first-hand show of how it was done. Instead, ahe remained still. For her part, her expression was unreadable behind her obscuring visor. "This is the mine, where materials are gathered. It is rarely visited by our guests. We have more accommodations in my forge upon the mountain top. Please, return there while I handle business here. We will discuss your request."

Realizing he was still alive, Boler slowly nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, trying to suppress his animal instinct and avoid kneeling to her now that he had an idea of what was happening. He took a few steps behind her... Then, he immediately fell to his knees in terror as her thunderous voice boomed from behind him in a startling yell.

"Awaken, hands and bodies of stone! Your day of toil begins! Failure to meet quota will not be tolerated, and no excuse shall be heard! Fail me, and you shall taste the hottest of hells, a new flame yet untested! This is the command of your Goddess, Achile Hammer!!" When she'd finished, the sounds of stirring could be heard from every cabin. She turned just a bit too slowly to catch Boler returning to his feet, to keep the charade up. Still, when she spoke, her voice had a questioning edge. "Guest, why do you make for the path? That is for our mortal servants. You are permitted to move directly to the forge."

Boler gulped. He remembered it now: Achile could freely teleport up and down the hill in a puff of flame. She'd caught Boler and others many times using that method. Now, he was racking his brain for an excuse. "Yeah, I'd love to, it's just, uh... Ow! My, um, leg muscle! Must've pulled it stompin' on some of those stupid mortals while I was, y'know, governin' my civilization too hard! That'll teach me to stretch first. Think ya could give a guy a lift?"

Before he could wonder how it would feel to be vanished in a plume of fire, or how that would be fundamentally different from his accustomed reincarnation, he instead found himself shielding his face as Achile rapidly approached him, holding her arms out for, what he assumed, would be dismantling him by hand. Instead, she easily lifted the heavy body of the stone elemental, despite being nearly his same size. She held him in a princess carry and began walking towards the path. "Teleporting another deity is not within my power. We will be to take the path. I apologize for the inefficiency. As we travel, please present your request."

The would-be God was feeling all kinds of things from this new experience. He felt the goddess's strong grip for the first time; he felt the heat that emanated off of her armor, still palpable in spite of his flame-resistant rock; he smelled not the ash and flesh he'd always assumed would linger on her as a scent, but simple, rank sweat; he wondered if he could get used to being carried like a bride, if his masculinity would permit it. However, there was hardly time to feel anything. Before he knew it, the Goddess was sprinting in spite of her payload, effortlessly clearing what Boler now thought of as the "Hill of Hilarious Length" in a fraction of the time any of her ore-carrying minions could. This made Boler feel a mixture of emotions. He was a little impressed; he was a little terrified; ultimately, however, he found he was mostly pissed off. Since he wasn't the type to keep his mouth shut, he didn't. "Begging your pardon... If you're able to run this trail carryin' a guy made of rocks so damn fast... Naw, forget it. You're able to fuckin' teleport up and down! Why make your minions do it? Puttin' aside basic compassion, there's no way that's efficient."

"I have . I have no extra time."

Boler had always assumed that Achile was naturally pissed off; now, feeling her grip on him tighten unconsciously (and dangerously), he was realizing that was just how she sounded, and this was the first time he was hearing her actually upset.

"Tasks must be delegated. Minions are nothing but tools to accomplish this. Even taking time out of my forge schedule to attend to guests is time I do not have. Even guests with valuable efficiency recommendations such as your own. My apologies, but please deliver your request so I may add it to the queue."

The scheming stone elemental realized he'd used up his entire time cushion to think up either a request or a reason that he was here as another God without one. He was already in the forge; in fact, as the soles of his work boots (which Achile apparently didn't find suspicious) hit the floor, he realized he was standing in the exact soot spot from the day before. It felt like a bad sign. He didn't know how effective this helmet magic was on a Goddess, but he couldn't imagine it'd last long if she was looking at the exact same mortal in the exact same clothes standing in the exact same spot she'd recently burned him alive. He needed a plan, fast. Preferably, he need one that would give him an upper hand immediately, rather than a request for an item that would take time and give her a chance to find him out. As his ruby eyes scanned the room and fell upon an item in the corner, he remembered what Strom had said and thought he had one. "Okay, yeah. Uh, I need a Golden Chain. Got one of those?"

"... I am afraid not," Achile growled. He thought she sounded annoyed again. "The materials are... quite rare. It will take time to produce a new one."

"No no, uh, I'm sure you've at least got one that's close, right? 'So close, yet so far? Almost a tool of the Gods?'"

There was a click, like a flint striking inside her helmet. He thought it was her teeth. "Yes... However, that is not suitable for sale. It is to remain here for its... sentimental value. With time, I can forge you a proper and fully functional Golden Chain, if you wish it. Let us discuss payment-"

"Well, hey, now, let's not move on so quickly. I ain't uptight like all those other Gods. I ain't so picky. Why don't you tell me what's off with it? Maybe you can still make a sale?"

"I told you, I am not permitted to sell it." When Boler didn't advance the conversation, she tapped her foot for just a moment. Finally, she reneged to his question. "Very well. As with a proper functioning Golden Chain, it uses the power stored within it to subdue even a deity. The captured deity will be to kneel and be incapable of moving and resisting, although more powerful Gods can break the hold of the weak. Furthermore, the God will be to answer questions truthfully, and will not have any memory of their time bound once they are freed. This aspect is maintained. However, there is a side-effect that would make it, some would say, worthless."

"And that is...?"

"... It has a very minor, insignificant unintended effect on the captive that some would consider undesirable. That is all."

"What, that's it? Ol' Relzel was bustin' your chops for nothin'!" Boler opened his big mouth.

"... Guest, why do you know of that conversation?" The questioning edge had returned to Achile's voice. "What is your interest in this item? Actually... What is your name? What aspect do you govern as God? And are you prepared to pay for your request?"

Now Boler had really stepped in it... the metaphorical shit, besides his own ashes. He tried his best to recall the story that Strom had relayed to him, something that would save his bacon. Even if Achile thought he was a God, this was her domain. If she thought he was someone suspicious, she could probably burn him, or kick him out into whatever space Gods normally traveled through, something that didn't sound too healthy for his very mortal ass. As he tried to think up a hint, his mind returned to Relzel and how Achile had folded in front of her. That had to be the key. "Uh, ya got me. Yeah... Relzel sent me. Said she was, uh, tired of puttin' up with your shit in person. She sent me here to rub your nose in it a little and make sure you wasn't sleepin' on the job."

Achile's posture didnt change, but her tone of voice did. "... My apologies. Please tell her I am hard at work... and that I have acknowledged the failure of my creation, and have not attempted to defend it."

Thinking he didn't owe Achile any favors, he was nonetheless to reckon with the fact that his ass was still on the line. This lie alone didn't get him out of the situation; if he turned the corner and pretended to leave, what then? Take off the helmet and go back to being Boler the sandbag elemental? Surely, there was a better plan. He decided to ride this out further. "Look, this is just my job, but I wasn't sent here to make nice with ya. I was sent to teach ya lesson. Relzel wants me to... Shit, I got it! Relzel wants me to show ya that chain's flaws first-hand! She wants little ol' me to use it on big, scary ol' you!"

Now, he saw something strange. Achile's helmet still hid her expression, and her voice still emanated in a pissed-off growl, but he was sure he coukd hear a quiver in it. "That will not be necessary. That sounds... That is, that will greatly impede the efficiency of Relzel's forge queue, which is already strained. We are both servants of Relzel, are we not? We can come to an agreement. There must be some lower-level magical artifact you have been eyeing. Simply... convey my loyalty to our Lady... and I will find space for it in the queue."

"Hehehe... hahaha!" Boler couldn't help but laugh. "What's the matter, scared? Aw, no need for that, Achile! I ain't gonna hurt ya... A-and as a reminder, you ain't gonna hurt me! I'm an important employee of Relzel, and if she finds you hurt a single stone on my body in retaliation next time she shows up, she's gonna be pissed. Just sit there, and this'll all be over in a sec."

"Tch... As you wish. My suffering and indignity of late are pronounced," Achile declared, taking to her knees on the stone floor. "I only ask that you hurry. My time is very precious."

"Heh. Your suffering and indignity, huh? You got a lotta balls, Achile." The stone elemental found his vindictiveness and confidence growing as he felt an enchanted tool in his hands. A Golden Chain... even if this didn't work, seeing Achile brought to her knees felt like enough reward to keep him happily humming in the mines for another month. And a part of him dared to believe it would work: the chain hummed in his hands. It didn't feel flawed. It felt like it was made for his craggy grasp. Emboldened by its power, he began to swing it over his head and, then cast it forward. "Be bound!"

The chain flew across the room towards Achile. It wasn't propelled by his mortal strength, and, as a tool to subdue Gods, did not clang impotently against her armor. Rather, without his further input, it began to wind around the submissive Goddess. On an exposed woman, the binding might have appeared erotic, but Achile was dressed from head to toe in heavy armor. The chain was keeping her in place by wrapping her joints. From its golden glow, he had to assume it was working...

Now, all Boler had to do was think of a new plan. Something he could ask or do before his captive tormentor broke free-

"This fucking sucks! You fucking pile of rock ugly ass nobody in your dumbass beat-up metal helmet walking down to my mine like a stupid tourist clown and making me haul my sweaty ass up my own fucking mountain so your stupid ass can have get his fucking rocks off with his S&M kink while my fucking mountain of work gets bigger and all my dumbass minion scratch their fucking rock asses and Relzel gets bitch rich off all my fucking endless labor! Fuck you, Rock Man! Why do you look like one of my stupid fucking dumbass minions? Who the fuck even are you, fucker?!"

Boler stood holding onto the chain for dear life, although his captive was hardly struggling. He'd never heard Achile talk like this before. Still, since he couldn't help but speak, he answered like he was the one under a spell. "I'm Boler. One of your minions? You literally turned me into that pile of ash on your floor just yesterday. I got the crown you tossed outta here, and now I'm taking control. I'm the one who's gonna ask the questions here! Now, tell me! Is the flaw in this chain that it makes you swear like a sailor-"

"Fuuuuck! Oh fuck I am so fucked!!" Now, Achile wasn't just swearing, she was audibly sobbing inside her helmet. "Shiiiit the flaw in this Golden Chain is it also makes it so the target can't control their emotions so it makes it embarrassing for a dignified creature to try to use because it looks like they aren't controlling the person bound with it and that's why Relzel thought she couldn't sell it Fuuuck!! My ass is so getting smelted!"

"Your ass... is gettin' smelted? Wait, but you're the Goddess of the Forge-"

"Like that means shit, rocks-for-brains! That's just the scheme that rich bitch has with all her stupid fucking golems! If she makes a golem with the power of a minor Goddess, she can grant it Goddess status and have it make and run a planet for her. That's why there's a fucking Goddess of the Forge, a fucking Goddess of the Furnace, a fucking Goddess of the Anvil, fuck! Only I'm the only one who's too fucking dumb to run a fucking forge planet and all my orders are behind and I don't know what to do about it! All my minions are too fucking lazy and-"

"Hey, hold up a sec! Your minions ain't lazy! You know that, right? All of us are workin' our asses off-"

"Shit, I know you aren't working, like you're down their workin' now, fuckface? Your fuckin rock mitts are up here holding my fucking chain and interrupting all my fucking work and I can't even call my stupid fucking flames to get rid of you and get back to my damn schedule!! If you clowns just worked twice as hard-"

"You asshole! We're workin' ourselves to the bones to meet your schedule! Literally, sometimes, these rocks fuckin' fall off! I get you're workin' hard, but you need to open your damn eyes if you think we're sittin' on our hands down there. We're busting our asses! For you."

"... Shit. Shiiiit!! I'm so dumb. I'm sorry!!!"

"I'm telling you... Sorry, what? You're sorry?"

"I'm so fucking stupid I literally didn't know! I literally thought it was your fault but now that I know it's not I know it's my own stupid ass's fault, fuck! I just can't keep up with her stupid fucking demands and I take it out on all you tiny little pebble fuckwads like... a fucking monster! Like what she does to me, I pass onto you! Shit, I'm so fucked!!"

"Hey, you're just the one getting fussed at. We're the ones in a cycle of painful burning and rebirth, lady. You ain't winning the Sisyphean pity Olympics against us... Oh. Aw, hell, c'mon... Don't... You ain't gotta cry about it, all right?"

"F-F-Fuck you, I do gotta cry about it because you got me fucking tied up with my own stupid fucking failed fuck of a fucking whip, fuck! I can't stop you and I sure as hell can't stop Relzel, and when she comes back and finds out what happened to me she's gonna decommission this whole fucking planet! We're all gonna be space dust! Fuck my life!!"

Boler felt his hold on the chain weakening. "Aw, hell. I forgot I'm a total sucker for girls! Even fully armored girls that have burned me to more times than I can count, I guess. Damn... And you aren't gonna remember that we even had this conversation, are you? When I let go of this chain, you're going to forget all of this. You'll forget you apologized to us and understood we weren't to blame."

"Yeah I am gonna forget about all of it, unless I can break this fucking chain, but I'm too fucking weak to break my own stupid chain. Damn, all I do is make fucking fire and move around and have big muscles!"

"... Huh." That last note brought something to Boler's mind that he hadn't been considering until now. "Hey, answer this question. You can't stop me from taking off that helmet, right? It just lifts off?"

"Of course it just lifts off, you dumb rock fucker, and I can't stop shit like this! I'd probably be too dumb to put all this fucking armor on and take it off if it wasn't easy because my head is just a big half-empty bag of rocks and fire, no brains! And I have to take it off because I sleep naked, dammit!"

"... Huh." That last note confirmed what Boler had just considered. "I'm just gonna take your helmet off, and..." He was saying that, but he realized he was putting a lot of faith in the chain here. He was counting on the fact that his own grip wasn't what was holding it taut and that it would hold her tightly enough that she wouldn't break free and burn him to ash when he got closer to her. Furthermore, he realized it was going to be awkward to lift the helmet off of her with just one hand. "Hey, before I do this, one more question: am I getting my hopes up too much? You're not a rock lady under there, right? 'Cause your voice sounds all rocky, and, this might surprise you, but I'm actually not into rock ladies. I like 'em fleshy."

"No, I'm not a fucking rock lady, why would I keep throwing slurs at you about you being made of rocks if I was made of rocks, you dumb rock fucker? But yes, you shouldn't get your hopes up because I'm not pretty, I'm a fucking magic tool made to manage a dumb fucking furnace planet like a glorified smart appliance." She had to hold her tongue for just a moment as the helmet was lifted off of her, uncomfortably banging around her head as her captor attempted it with one hand. "There! Here's my ugly fucking robot face. Fucking happy?"

"Holy crap, you're... you're hot!" Boler declared. "And not just fire-pun hot. You're really, genuinely hot! Do you not know you're hot?!"

The face he'd revealed by lifting off the helmet wasn't that of a rock person, or of any kind of readily apparent android. It was a human woman's, exceptionally well-built for what seemed to be around twenty in appearance. The hair was less surprising, a matted white mane that terminated in flame licks, as he'd already seen, and hung in clumps over her sweat-drenched forehead. Still, she had blemish-less tan skin, an arguably handsome jawline, and what Boler thought of as kissable lips, although kissing lips was hard for a stone elemental to imagine. The only hints her face offered to her being inhuman was her odd symmetry, her cheeks stained with an odd orange-swirling oil instead of tears, her curled lip that revealed sharp, metallic teeth, and black eyes with red pupils intersected by crosshairs... Okay, speaking objectively, that was plenty to identify her as not human. Regardless, her face was humanly blushing as one of her sharp eyebrows twitched. "Yes, I know I'm hot. I have an internal temperature that would melt bone." Her voice still had a growly quality, but without the helmet, she finally sounded like a person instead of a booming loudspeaker announcement.

"I mean attractive, like a 9/10, easy! Do you not know you're sexy?"

The Goddess shook her head with a frown. "I do not. You have implied as much, but I still do not believe it. In fact, I assume I look like a fucking mess because I have been crying like a big dumb baby. I assume you are fucking lying to me as part of your dumb fucking trick to free yourselves! Damn, now I am thinking about how screwed we all are again. Oh fuck. Oh shit!"

"Look, Achile... I think there's a path forward here. It ain't all doom and gloom. We get each other now: you work hard, and we work hard. Life sucks for all of us. But there has to be some way we can all work together, doesn't there?"

"I genuinely do not believe there is," Achile told him, sniffling. "It is unheard of for a Goddess and her mortals to work together. That makes me think that I will just be fucking things up even worse. Fuck! Does it even matter if I fucking think of a fucking plan while you have me fucking wrapped in this Goddess-damned chain?"

"It does matter if we come up with a plan... if I break the chain. If I don't make you forget that we're partners in this. Can I do that, or will you burn me alive when you're free?"

"Yes, you can do that, and yes, I will fucking turn you to ash once I am free. We understand each other, but I am still too fucking scared of that rich bitch, and she has my life in the palm of her hand. She can fucking decommission me with a fucking thought!"

"That just means you know what it's like to be a mortal servin' a Goddess," Boler sighed. "Okay. I wanted to try the spirit of mutual cooperation here, but you're forcin' my hand. Let's try somethin' different. Before I break these chains offa ya, I'm gonna need some assurance I'm not takin' the quick way down the Hilarious Hill again. I want you to tell me every single magic item you've forged that might be useful to me. No, scratch that: what is every single magic item you have forged and in this forge right now, period? Give it to me with details."

"Oh, fuck you! Those are fucking orders! If you use those fuckers on me I'm gonna be even further behind fucking schedule, but... rrgh, fine! Can't resist the fucking chain. I'm gonna tell you, but just so you know, if you break these fucking chains, I'm gonna remember you fucking screwed me over, Boler! Asshole... Here they come..."

Boler heard the items. He thought he could work with this. After a bit of preparation, he let Achile break the chains and hold the reins...

And she regained her power.

---

Just a day later, Relzel returned to her Forge Planet with a smile on her face and a good feeling. If Achile wasn't doing good work, she surely would have called ahead and let her know, begging for mercy. Relzel thought she had a good finger on her puppet: she was smart enough to take that measure of caution, but dumb enough to think it would work. Since it hadn't happened, that meant things were on schedule.

The Goddess of Rarities opened the forge chamber doors to find her golem sitting with her helmet and plate armor on, cross-legged behind an anvil, where she belonged. The hammer was down, and Achile didn't seem nervous. A pleased smirk spread on the master's painted lips. "Good, good. The spread of items here is, indeed, what I asked for. I'm pleasantly surprised. You have proven your worth as an asset, dearest Achile. See? Doesn't it feel nice to be praised by me? Not every visit has to be bad blood and things thrown. Oho, and what's that I see in the corner? Your lesson," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in demeaning delight. "You kept that pitiful Golden Chain as a reminder. I just knew it would help."

Achile cast a glance to the scattered golden links in the corner. Relzel hadn't noticed they were broken. That was good. "Thank you," she told her Goddess with a seated bow. "I live for your service. In order to better serve you, I have a request of additional equipment. This will optimize the production."

The Goddess recognized the list tucked in with the package of enchanted trinkets and weaponry she'd ordered. She turned it over with an unamused frown, adjusting her monocle with her free hand. "Ah, dear... Feeling emboldened by a successful turn-in, are we? I'm a very busy woman who runs a tight ship, Achile. I hardly have the spare resources to help you simply keep your head above water-"

"With due respect, ma'am, that is not what this is," her servant spoke back. "These improvements are not necessary for me to meet production. They will enable me to increase production, both of materials and of manufactured end products. I can guarantee your yield will increase."

"Oh...? Initiative!" Relzel laughed, hiding the expression from her lesser with the back of her hand. "I like it! My lesson was taken well, indeed! I always thought I would be a wonderful parent... But, know this, sweetie. If I am not a wonderful parent, I am at least an efficient and ruthless manager. If I make a contract, I expect it to be upheld. Your equipment, for your increased productivity. Do we have a deal, oh Goddess of the Forge?" She held forward the hand not holding a bag of enchanted goods for a shake.

"Yes, ma'am," Achile nodded. To seal the deal, she rose from her seated position and approached her master with confidence.

Even though she'd initiated, Relzel was now the one withholding her hand for the gesture. She was using her free hand to adjust her monocle, looking down at her golem's lower body with a rare expression of confusion. She quickly turned it into a wry smile. "... Hmph. That's cute. Achile, what have you got going on down there?"

The golem cast her visored gaze down, as if it needed to look to see what her master was obviously referring to. The plate mail and helmet were the same as they had been during Relzel's visit two days ago, but her bottom half lacked any armor at all. It was a uniform skirt of some kind, white primary and red secondary. It was short, reaching just below the hips and nowhere close to the knees, showcasing well-defined thighs and calves that only had the faintest hints of seams to suggest they weren't human. Those seams were made even harder to see by the high red stockings that covered her legs. Finally, her feet stepped in short white boots with laces and black soles. Overall, she had the appearance of a muscular cheerleader who'd gotten stuck in half a suit of armor. Achile turned her head back up and hesitated for only a moment. "This is for efficiency," she declared, putting her hand forward once more.

Relzel was no longer smiling, but she took the offered hand and shook on it. "Well, I can't argue with results, although I must confess I'm saddened my lessons had less to do with it than your sudden silly fashion choices. A Goddess has to present herself with a certain dignity, you know?"

"I have received positive reactions," Achile told her simply. Her voice seemed to carry a smile. "You might try something more like it yourself, ma'am. I believe you would turn heads."

The Goddess of Rarities seemed momentarily offended, then, slowly, appeared to take it as a joke. She scoffed, then laughed genuinely. "Oh! Ohohoho! Most amusing! To see me in something as preposterous as that... it truly would be a rarity, wouldn't it? I would not count on it any time soon, sweetie," she declared, giving her silly toy a condescending pat-pat on the side of the visor. "Expect your equipment by next sunrise, and know I shall be following up on those results! Have fun with those poor rock fellows of yours!"

Achile watched her leave, waving her off. She didn't stop waving once the door closed; she wouldn't stop until she'd confirmed her master had departed from the domain.

Then, she turned on her heel.

---

At the base of the Hilarious Hill, as it was now known, another hard day of work continued. In fact, it was a harder day of work than the day before it. Production had to be increased by a yield of twenty-five percent. That would be easier if Achile secured her deal with Relzel, but that wasn't guaranteed, and the need for the yield increase was.

When Boler had returned and told Strom the results of his adventure, he had not taken it well. In fact, he had refused to talk to Bolen that night or the following morning. Cooling down was a hard thing to do in a planet of heat, but the stone-human had finally managed it. He was finally willing to hear his buddy out... Needless to say, however, he had plenty of questions. "So, let me get this straight again. You had Achile bound, on her knees, exposed and unarmed. In a forge, where there were countless weapons surely waiting behind any given door. You did not decapitate her."

"Strom-Man, I'm tellin' ya, you weren't there! One, you woulda been too terrified, cause you don't know if that blade is gonna cut that chick's thick, sinewy robo-Goddess neck. Two, you ain't gonna do it because she is an absolute bangin' hottie, and you're gonna believe me on that any second now. And three, I shit you not, I genuinely believe I've worked us out a good thing-"

"A good thing?!" Strom interrupted him, shouting around the twenty-five percent heavier ore they were struggling to lift. "You had your hands on the throat of our oppressor and you yielded! We are stuck in the same life of toil and servitude you had a chance to end! Not only that, you somehow negotiated for us to work harder?! You call this 'a good thing?!'"

"Hey, that's no way to talk to your God, Lord Boler!" his fellow laborer joked at him, despite the fact that he was no longer wearing the helmet and was no longer being treated as a God. With good terms otherwise enforced with the Goddess Achile, there was no longer a need to deceive her. The helmet was safely stashed away, in case the opportunity to pretend to be a God came in handy later. "Anyway, trust me. It's one hard day today, but this is gonna become a sweet gig later. Besides, have you even really thought about what happens to us with Achile-baby gone?"

"Achile-what?! Yes, I have considered the freedom to forge our own destinies that would come from her removal-!"

"Bro, the 'destiny' you're gonna free yourself from is having a planet to live on and gravity to keep your rocky ass on it. You are gonna be ejected into friggin' space, or worse: you're gonna end up in the hands of that absolute bitch of a boss that had her fryin' us in the first place. Trust me when I say you are gonna realize that this is... a sweet deal... grah!!" Suddenly, he let go of his end.

"You lunkhead!" Strom cried, to drop his own and to grab his stretched back in pain. He may be mostly rock, but he had a human muscle in there somewhere that was definitely pulled. "Ow... Trust me, you are going to need a deus ex machina to explain why I should possibly be... thanking you...?" His groan trailed off in slack-jawed confusion.

He quickly became aware of why Boler had lost his grip and his composure. Achile had arrived... Or, rather, her armor had. Only the helmet and top-half suddenly came raining from the hill above, landing with a heavy thud in the dirt and cratering it with its weight. Lifting his head higher, Strom could see the one who had thrown it for just a moment before she disappeared around the bend of the hill, skipped along its road, and disappeared around the bend again, quickly making time through the path that was their daily torment with bounds that covered stretches of it in half a minute.

Boler elbowed Strom in the side. "I told her to take the long way down. Told her the boys'd appreciate it, that it'd keep us motivated. What do ya think? Hey! Achile-baaabyyyy!!"

Strom had no idea what to think. He was being to think about something that was outside of even the fantasies he'd had when he was a regular flesh-having human, and he'd lost count of how many years ago that was.

Achile continued to skip as she turned the final bend and approached them, seeming to defy gravity as if the armor had been weighing her down. While her body might be defying the laws of gravity, however, it wasn't defying the laws of physics. The big, bushy double ponytails she was sporting shook in the rushing air, spreading embers from the fire licking at the tips. They wouldn't have fit under her helmet, so she'd probably done them quickly when she was out of sight... or, maybe, it was just Goddess magic. A cheerleader top with the word "ROCKIES" in bright yellow across a red stripe did little to hide the form of her bouncing breasts. They weren't huge, but when a woman had been dressed in plate mail for the years she'd been tormenting you, little changes seemed big. She was holding large red and yellow pompoms in each hand, although they seemed to sizzle dangerously at her touch and give off a faintly smokey smell. Perhaps most bizarrely, her teeth were bared in a big, metallic grin. It gave the impression of a bear trap, but it was still a marked improvement from the tear-stained cheeks Boler had seen before.

All of this was a bit hard to take in as her shadow approached them, but one detail wasn't. The gravity-defying jump had left her skirt flipped up as she descended, and beneath that garment, tight red bloomers could be seen hugging the curves of the woman's broad hips, which, it turned out, were much more impressive than her breasts. Even if the word "BOLER" with a heart replacing the "O" wasn't printed there, it'd still be hard to avoid staring at her ass.

When she landed, creating another crater in the dirt from her incredible density, she began a routine. It didn't seem like she'd practiced much, as the movements were mostly just waving her hands around randomly, but there was plenty of enthusiasm. "One! Two! Three! Four! Who's collecting all the ore?! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! By tomorrow, don't be late! Rockies always do their best! Watch me dance and shake my chest! Gooooo Rrrrrockiiiiiiesss!!!" the Goddess shouted, doing her best to live up to her song. She thrust her smiling face and bouncing chest forward, shaking her shoulders and moving her breasts as she rattled the pom-poms at her sides.

As soon as she had finished, she folded her hands in front of her. She kept her huge, bear-trap-like smile on her face, but she was now in a statue-like posture. It was easy to mentally overlap the armor she used to wear onto her body when she stood like this. "I have taken time out of the schedule to practice the routine. Thanks to your increased efficiency, I have had the necessary time to hone it. What do you think, friends?"

"You're gettin' there, Achile-baby! You're gettin there!" Boler walked forward and raised a craggy palm to give his new pal a high five.

She saw what he was doing and it seemed to register for her, but her hands were full from the pom-poms. Compromising, she leaned her head forward and planted a kiss on the palm instead. "Boler. My man. How is it hanging? Are you getting that bread?"

"It's goin', it's goin'," Boler told her. "Just a temporary setback here... Me and Strom-Man'll get this baby lifted then be on our way up in no time. I got some more stuff to talk with him about, anyway. Why don't you go introduce yourself to the other guys? They need to see that we're all on the same team, if you get my drift. Hey, don't lose that medallion, all right?"

"Of course," Achile agreed, reaching into her cheer top to withdraw an amulet that had been hidden between her breasts. It was her own handiwork, crafted of smooth metal and depicting a rune of muscular arms crossing each other in brotherhood. "Thanks to my work and your plan, our bacon is safe. We will work together in the spirit of mutual cooperation."

"Uh-huh! You get it!" The stone elemental raised his hand as if to give her a friendly clap on the back. Instead, it moved to her firm behind, giving it a swat. He didn't stop there, grabbing a handful beneath her skirt and keeping it there so everyone could see. "You are doin' so great. Morale ain't never been higher!"

"Th-thanks," she agreed more tentatively, her face reddened. She was biting her lip with a row of sharp teeth. That looked like it would be painful for anyone else, but just gave her a bashful look as they indented into her pliant-but-durable skin. "I remembered you said that morale will be high if my minions are allowed to touch my body at any time."

"You don't need to let the other guys know that, though. Just me. I think that'd be best. We want 'em motivated, not distracted."

Achile tilted her head curiously. She seemed to grow momentarily cross-eyed in deep thought before she shut her eyes, a smile returning to her face. "If it keeps them motivated, I will do it gladly. I thought that was strange, considering your own motivation ought to similarly be negatively affected. However, if you say it is for the sake of our productivity, it must be so."

"Uh-huh. Remember what I told you to say if you ever find yourself thinking too hard, Achile-baby?"

"Hmm... Right! Hard work is for minions, and thinking is hard work! The Goddess of the Forge is for forging and for motivation! So keep on motivating!"

"Close enough. Atta girl! Go say hi," he told her, giving her another playful swat on her divine behind and handing her off to the others. Sighing, he knelt down to lift the end he'd dropped before.

This whole time, Strom had been speechless. What could he possibly say? Now, however, he spoke to his cabinmate, convinced he was mad. "We are... actually going to work like this? We are free, are we not? The Goddess is... cavorting around, acting like bimbo eye candy. Are we not free to leave?"

"Fuck no, man, and get liftin'! You gotta keep workin', trust me. And whatever you do, do NOT take that Medallion of Brotherhood off her. You got no idea what I went through, convincing her that we were all workin' together here. As long as she believes she's working together alongside comrades, the Medallion of Brotherhood she forged will keep her giggly, bouncy, bubbly, and sexy. And non-murderous. But only if we work. So work."

Strom still had so many more questions he wanted to ask, but before he could ask them, a shout rang through the clearing, the voice of a lanky stone-man the two had never interacted with much. He was thinner than most of them; probably one of the best runners. "Are you kidding? I'm outta here! You lamebrains can sit here and kick rocks with your cheerleader Goddess for all I care! Sayonara-"

The laborer hadn't gotten farther than five steps before, in the distance, Achile raised her hand. "Sayonara!" she shouted, reducing her fleeing minion to ash with a smile and reincarnating him. "See you tomorrow bright and early for work!" She grinned a winning smile for the rest of her faithful workers. "Now, that was not very cooperative of him. Remember, we are all partners here. Let us work harder for a brighter future! Gooooo Rockies!" she shouted in her feminine growl, beaming and waving a pom-pom in the air.

... Strom swallowed his questions and lifted his end. He waited until he and his cabinmate had cleared the far side of the Hill of Hilarious Length before he dared to speak again. "So, the Medallion makes her trust us?"

"Nope. I made her trust us," Boler returned from his end between grunts. "The amulet makes her agree to do things that I tell her will help us as partners working together, but I had to legitimately convince her we were all in the same boat. You know what? I think she don't choose to be evil and cantankerous. I think it's just how she was built. She's a sweet woman once you get to know her, and a victim in this, just like you and me. She deserves people she can trust."

As he ended on a sappy note, he turned the corner once again. He risked a glance down at the residential quarters below him, where the new cheerleader was practicing her routine for one minion at a time, freezing like a statue, plodding her way over to another, then starting the same routine up again, as if that was the most efficient way to introduce herself and motivate them all.

"... Also, I think she's dumb. Like... surprisingly dumb. You couldn't tell cause of the way she was actin' all dignified before, but I swear, that girl is all body and good looks. Really think there's just fire in that head of hers."

"Not as dumb as you," Strom growled. "I was too stunned to think of this earlier, but Achile can craft magical artifacts, can she not? Why in Christian God's name did you not think to have her craft something that can deal with the nasty one? Relzel?"

"Are you nuts, man?! That Relzel's on another level! Achile-baby's like a speck of dust to her, and we're like individual atoms! And somethin' tells me she is all the fire and none of the reincarnation. Ain't no way those magic trinkets of Achile's work on bigwigs like that. "

"I suppose not."

The two remained silent in contemplation as they continued to move their load up the hill, towards the now-ironically-named Fortress of Complete Unfuckability. The red sun began to fall and the sky began to grow dark.

"... I mean, obviously not," Boler picked up the same conversation the two of them had dropped an hour ago, the same one that had been on both of their minds since they left it.

"Surely not," Strom agreed.

"Because, then, like, minions would be fuckin' over high-powered super-babes in universes all over the place, right? I mean, Goddesses, y'know... They're typically kinda va-va-voom, but they're all powerful, ya catch my drift, Strom-Man? There's no way minions are, like... havin' revolutions, trickin' Godesses and gettin' cheerleader routines and special service from 'em in other places like this one. Right?"

"... Right," Strom grunted gruffly. "Surely."

"No way in hell!"