The forge didn't explode overnight.
That was the first sign things were getting out of hand.
By the time I limped over to check if anyone had accidentally invented pyromancy again, there were elves.
Not a lot of them. Just enough to count as a problem. Five in total, which is the exact number of engineers you need to make a kobold extremely nervous. Two were sketching the frame. One was peering underneath with a magnifying crystal. One was asking questions at a speed no one could answer. And the last one just stood there, watching Tinker like he was about to sprout wings.
Tinker looked like he was dying.
Not in a dramatic way. In the slow, quiet way someone does when they realize everyone is taking them seriously and there's no way out.
