Carim
A bright young fox walked through the Grand Palais in Carim City, the industrial and research center of Taris. His bright red face was crossed with concentration, his tail flicked with contentment. Only 26, he was shorter than most, but carried himself with the stability and grace of someone over twice his age. He followed no particular route as he walked through the ornate hallways in the research center, passing by the massive mural depicting the creation of the first forge. If he could only find inspiration for something that he could build to solidify his standing in the house. He was an artificer, a master of the druidic techniques that fused technology with magic. Creating and maintaining these technologies was his stock in trade, as it was for the many of the inhabitants of Taris.
The study of the arcane was commonplace among the Carimites, who fused technology and magic in new and exciting ways. People came from all across the galaxy to buy their wares; a far cry from the mundane chicanery that the other houses produced; technologies that relied on the illusion of magic, rather than true magic itself. House Carim products were known for their power, reliability, and beauty, and there was little exaggeration on the part of the house. While the wealthy would buy the more expensive Janali goods, any buyer worth his salt knew that Carim wares were the best. That was, Eracith supposed, the reason for their being involved in the war. The money was good. Though the rationalization that suited so many others of his house didn't set well with him. There were less objectionable ways to make money.
The war started as a result of unrest within the Kasch'en Empire. The death of the Emperor led to a fiasco at the installation of the Empress Rani Di'naar. Her insanity cast grave doubts on her ability to lead the empire, as was her right. Each thinking they would be better set to rule, leaders of the three largest territories came together to challenge her right to the throne. With troops at the coronation, they intended to kill her right then and there, but such an overt movement could not be written off as an accident. The leader of the territory of Asch'an, predicting great destruction, wisely suggested that they commence negotiations to determine a new ruler. But before they could commence, he was assassinated by one of Di'naar's lieutenants. In light what had just ensued, not even the might of Tannith could stop the impending war. That was almost 100 years ago, the year now was 993 ARD.
Eracith shrugged as he continued down the hallway, his tail swishing lightly behind him. Furtively, he stole a glance to the left and right, before palming a lock on a hidden door. An arch opened smoothly, showing a small hallway that lead directly into one of the Carim manufactories. The familiar smell of ozone wafted through the air; at the back of his mouth, he could taste the tang of magic. These were the sources of the advanced constructs that had become all the rage during the war. They were far from the relatively mundane war robots, who lacked all but the most basic of intelligence. Instead, these new creations were brilliant warriors that soon became necessary to any successful army. The normal robots were next to useless on the battlefield, requiring constant supervision by their commanders. Their communications could easily be jammed, rendering them useless. Or they could be hacked, turning them against their masters. A Val'kov, however, could make decisions. It could come up with tactics and adapt to new situations all on its own, giving them the ability of a living being, without wasting 'real' lives. They were fast learners, and after only a few months of training, they had would be able to compete with the most elite fighters in the war. They were the perfect warriors. They did not need to eat, drink, sleep or breathe. They were not prone to malinger, and yet, along with their intelligence, they maintained the idiosyncrasies of any of the other races in the Hegemony.
As, Eracith continued through the darkened passages, deeper into the bowels of the Carim manufactory, he gazed upon the familiar sight of the creation forge. The monolithic device was the source of Carim's power, and the reason all of the other governments were buying themselves into poverty. The forges built devices in an organic fashion, allowing less material to be wasted, while channeling magic into the matrix, changing the material at the atomic level. The exact method of operation was a closely kept secret, but as a master artificer, Eracith was allowed to operate the machine. Eracith snorted as he watched the device. It was (as with most of the Carim forges) making Val'kov. "Val'kov." he spat. "Beings created for the sole purpose of war." he murmured under his breath. "Sentient beings." he added. He was not a follower of any particular religion, but still he knew that this was wrong. They deserved better than this, deserved better than to be mass produced like so many wagons, and shipped off to fight in a war that they had no stock in. But the money was good, and Carim was always in the business for more.
Bright light gave the arcane device an ominous glow, as a host of beings formed on the plate. A ring of artificers fed the device more energy and materials as man-sized creatures made of xentronium, steel and adamantine appeared. Smoke rose from them, and they sizzled with the powerful magics that gave them life and breath. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Truth was, the Carim lords weren't quite sure just what they'd created. The creations had free will, but no definitive proof of a soul had been seen. Eracith shrugged. In his experience with the construct, they were as alive as anyone else he'd met, some even more. He walked up to the one at the forefront. The one that appeared to have more of that elusive quality called life than the others. "Greetings, unit 415." he said, evenly.
"Greetings, master artificer." came the gravely reply. The val'kov's body gave the illusion of musculature, as it moved its limbs experimentally. It looked in fascination at its three-fingered hands. I am... Alive. It thought, though its immobile face gave no impression of it. Its crystalline eyes glowed with arcane fire, however, giving the faintest glimmering of the thoughts behind them. If one looked into these eyes carefully, they would see that the val'kov were not as stoic as they seemed at first glance. Curling its hands into a fist and unclenching them repeatedly, it checked the backs of them as well. This was... New. This was exciting. Unit 415's eyes sparkled briefly, but he remained reticent. It only had a rudimentary grasp of language, and there was no further need to talk.
Eracith smiled back, wondering at what had been done. How would the end of the war affect these creatures, who were bred specifically for that purpose. They were unique, strong of will. Would they be able to rise above their masters, would they be able to feel the freedom that every citizen of Tarim was able to feel? Eracith certainly hoped so, though he knew others in his house that didn't. "Walk with me." he said, briefly wondering if he had overstepped his bounds, then shook his head. He was a master artificer. One of the highest ranked, despite his age. They would not mind if he were to take a val'kov on as a bodyguard. If he had to, he certainly had enough money to buy the construct, if it came to that.
"Yes, sir." came the reply of the val'kov, as he began to walk for the first time. Watching his new master from new eyes, the val'kov wondered eagerly what would happen next. Eracith, pausing to allow the plodding construct to catch up, looked on and wondered the same thing.