Idris hadn't been joking when he talked about building a prison out in the desert.
On the surface, Sumeru looked peaceful now—prosperous, orderly, thriving.
But Sumeru was the nation of wisdom. And as the saying went:
"Wisdom is the enemy of the God of Wisdom."
The more clever people get, the more spectacularly they tend to cause trouble.
There were the petty thieves they'd rounded up lately,
the Eremite mercenaries who refused to accept the new era,
and the scholars who periodically lost their minds and tried something insane.
Perfect labor force for a desert prison zone.
Build a prison with my own hands and then fill it with my own people?
Idris found the idea very reasonable.
Sumeru had never had a proper state prison.
A prison for gods, sure—that was the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
But a place to throw ordinary criminals? Not really.
So when Idris mentioned his "desert prison" idea, Wriothesley gave a polite chuckle.
"Very well. If that interests you, Grand Sage, I can have someone send over the Fortress of Meropide's construction blueprints."
"This place may not be a tourist attraction, and we don't have any 'local specialties' to sell—
but since you've come all this way, we can't let you leave empty-handed."
Idris smiled. "You're too kind."
Talking to a smart man was always effortless.
After that, Wriothesley had asked if Idris wanted a few guards assigned to him. Not to "protect" him—the notion was laughable. Idris could beat a dragon sovereign and Neuvillette into the ground; what help were a few human guards going to be?
The guards would have been guides and… quiet watchers.
Idris waved it off.
"I'm here to relax. I prefer wandering where I like.
A guided tour would just get in the way."
Since Idris refused, Wriothesley didn't press. He simply nodded, wished Idris a pleasant stay in the fortress, mentioned that his own schedule was extremely busy, and left with his men.
Watching them go, Idris stretched lazily, then turned to face the great metal city before him and walked inside.
Nahida followed obediently, her small steps padding along behind him as they wandered the fortress corridors.
"Grand Sage Idris," she said softly, "you didn't come here just to sightsee, did you?"
"Even though I'd like to believe you're here purely for fun… I know that's… unlikely."
Idris nodded.
"Mm. Before we left Sumeru, my information network picked up something interesting:"
"The lower levels of the Fortress of Meropide are actually one enormous factory."
"So aside from the scenery, that's what I'm really curious about. I wanted to come take a look for myself."
"As for the rest of the fortress, I don't care much."
He remembered something else, too.
Beneath the Sanctuary of Surasthana, there was also a vast, unused industrial space—originally designed to build the Primal Machine God. Once the mech was completed, that place had basically become a giant empty warehouse.
If he could "borrow" some technology from Fontaine, he could turn that empty sublevel back home into a full production line for firearms.
Sure, the sanctuary was technically Nahida's home—but she spent most of her time in his office or his room anyway. If there were some clanging and hammering sounds under the floor, she probably wouldn't complain.
Probably.
Since they were here anyway, Idris didn't rush. He spent a few hours strolling the upper areas, taking in the architecture and the oddities of a prison-city under the sea.
Then he and Nahida entered the lowest level.
Down there was exactly what he'd expected: a massive, roaring factory.
Metal rang on metal in a constant rhythm. The air was thick with oil, steam, and the heat of endless labor.
Nahida listened to the relentless clang, clang, clang and nodded thoughtfully.
"This is quite a good design for a prison. By giving the inmates work in the factory, they can drain all that excess energy. Once they're exhausted, there's no strength left for stirring up trouble."
Idris agreed.
"Now, little princess, do a quick estimate."
"With the processing capacity of this factory, and this many workers hammering away day and night… after all these years, how many mechanical parts do you think they've produced?"
"Even without exact numbers, it's obvious, isn't it? The amount of clockwork components they've forged must be terrifying."
"I'm very curious—where did all those parts go?"
Nahida thought for a moment.
"Fontaine does have a huge number of mechanical guards… perhaps those parts all ended up in them."
"But… I don't think that explains everything."
"Exactly."
Idris' eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when a puzzle piece clicked into place.
"If you're curious," he said softly, "why don't we just ask the Duke?"
"We've seen most of what there is to see. Time to approach from a different angle."
Nahida sighed.
"So that 'curiosity' you just mentioned… you had this in mind from the beginning, didn't you?"
"Of course."
"With a facility of this size and that many workers, the number of parts they've produced over the years is staggering. Taking into account their scale, they could easily have built something at least on par with the Primal Machine God—if not larger."
"And yet, nothing of that sort has appeared in public."
"That means whatever they've built is being hidden."
"And I'd very much like to know… what exactly Fontaine and this underwater prison have been secretly developing all these years."
He couldn't help but recall the original "storyline" of Fontaine.
That floating ark—
The colossal, sky-sailing battleship inspired by Remuria's ancient warships.
It had only appeared briefly, a fleeting miracle, and then vanished from public view.
A tragedy, in Idris' opinion.
A flying battleship, and they only showed it once?
As a man, that was unacceptable.
This was the greatest treasure Fontaine had ever produced, and he had every intention of peeling back its armor and seeing the gears inside.
So Idris went straight to the source.
He arrived at the Duke's office and rapped politely on the door.
A voice came from inside as the handle turned, half amused and half teasing:
"Oh? This is surprising. I never imagined the man who marched into our country and beat Neuvillette senseless would knock this politely."
Idris smiled.
"Duke Wriothesley, your words sound like a jab, but your tone feels playful, so I'll treat that as a joke."
"In that case, I'll thank you for your generous forgiveness," Wriothesley replied dryly. "Come in, have a seat. The tea is from Liyue—top quality. I'm sure it'll suit Grand Sage Idris' taste."
Idris chose a seat and sat down. Wriothesley poured tea for him and for Nahida, then asked:
"So, Grand Sage, you've spent a few hours wandering the Fortress of Meropide. I trust you've gotten a decent impression of our humble institution?"
"Decent enough," Idris replied with a faint smile. "But I do have a question."
"It's about your lower-level factory."
"I saw it forging parts constantly. Judging by the tempo, they must be producing dozens, if not hundreds of components per day."
"My question is—are all those parts really going toward manufacturing mechanical guards?"
Wriothesley's hand paused just slightly atop the teapot.
He recovered almost instantly, feigning nonchalance as he shook his head.
"Of course. The mechanical components in that factory are primarily meant for Fontaine's automatons."
Idris chuckled.
"Is that so?"
"From what I saw, many of the machines are heavy industrial assemblies—for large-scale constructs. After all these years, the total number of parts produced must be in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions."
"I don't believe for a second that all of that was used just to build clockwork meka."
"Otherwise, Fontaine would be crawling with automaton legions. You'd have tens of thousands—maybe hundreds of thousands—of mechanical soldiers patrolling the land."
"So let me guess—at least half of those parts went into… something else, correct?"
"And that 'something else' is nowhere to be seen on the surface, which suggests it's still being kept strictly secret."
Since Idris had already laid it bare so bluntly, Wriothesley could only sigh and raise his hands a little in mock surrender.
"As expected of a Grand Sage. Your mind really does run frighteningly fast."
"You're right. Over the years, a substantial portion of those parts has gone into building a very large project…"
"But as for what that project is—I'm afraid I can't tell you, Grand Sage."
"Unless you're planning to beat me up too."
His tone was darkly humorous. After all, if Idris truly decided to cause trouble here, Wriothesley knew perfectly well he couldn't stop him.
Idris waved the notion away.
"Please don't paint me as some brute."
"I am a sage, after all—and a sage of the God of Wisdom."
"Resorting to violence is never my first option."
"I'm simply very interested in the secret technology you've been hiding down here."
Nahida, sitting quietly by Idris' side, couldn't help but smile.
Every time Idris openly declared he was her sage, she felt a warm flutter in her chest.
Their relationship had long since gone far beyond "archon and follower"—
but the title still made her happy.
Wriothesley took a sip of tea, steadying his expression.
"So, Grand Sage—are you planning to pry into this project of ours?"
"'Pry' is such an ugly word." Idris smiled. "I prefer to call it… a mutual exchange of technology."
"I wonder—would you be interested, Duke, in the research Sumeru has conducted on the Primal Machine God over this past month?"
"Oh? That giant mech of yours?"
For the first time, a true flicker of fascination appeared in Wriothesley's eyes.
After all, from a certain angle, he and Idris were the same type of person.
One had a giant walking war machine.
The other had a massive flying ark in the works.
Men like them…
How could they not be interested in each other's toys?
Idris leaned back slightly.
"Here's my proposal."
"If the thing you're secretly building is impressive enough to satisfy my curiosity…"
"Then in return, I can share with you some of Sumeru's research data on the Primal Machine God."
"How does that sound?"
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