I was stunned, but found my breath in time to see our latest customer facing off with what I had previously considered to be a harmless training automaton. Now it would seem to have fused with the reject and unenchantables pile.
What a mess. How does this even happen? This type of golem isn't supposed to be able to go berserk, of course, it isn't supposed to start gluing weapons to itself either. I can't spot any major changes in the auras of the weapons, nor in the golem. Perhaps something smaller, too small to see while it's moving as much as it is.
It has a piece of a spear I had attempted to lightning enchant, but could only get an incredibly weak amount of power into. A short sword that didn't seem to take to any enchantment at all, but I guess must have something behind it. I can't remember the rest. Oh, there goes the crossbow I had intended to grow its own bolts, but instead decided to fire flower petal bursts. I was actually hoping to find a buyer that would want something of that sort, I think that I will try to duplicate the effect. Surely it would make a great ceremonial weapon, with enough of them firing petals in unison.
While I had intended to run away, my fear gives way to curiosity as I watch the big spender do battle with the thing. It isn't often that I get to see my work wielded in actual combat, by actual trained fighters. His motions are fluid and, except for the occasional stutter or aggressive parry on the construct's part, I would say that he was doing a fair job of holding his own. He has a stern look to him now, not the amused posture I had seen before. For a human his age, he's stayed in shape quite well, I don't think I've seen Anton keep up this level of activity for this long.
Eventually, a hit is scored on the warrior, a small scratch to the shoulder with a sting of electricity from the spear. I don't think I'd be able to bear it if this thing kills anyone. It isn't a golem made by me, but all of those weapons were. I hope he can pull this off. Looking frustrated, he puts his hand against the hilt of his sword.
Everything changes.
It had looked impressive before, I could see several layers of magical enhancement, an ability I had spent many decades honing. As soon as his hand touched the blade, it was like lighting a torch with a candle. The auras of magic not only grew in intensity, but they also enveloped the man. This I can not understand, none of the auras seemed remotely similar to the sort I've seen that increase the wielders physical power, or do something of that school of enchantments.
His expression changes as well. Frustration, fatigue, fear, it all disappears from his face. Leaving what starts as a look of curiosity, examining the mace now in his off hand as though it was his first time seeing such a thing. Quickly this seems to change to anger or, perhaps, contempt. He throws it off to the side while fluidly avoiding a swing directed at his head.
I think I may have just lost a sale...
What happened? Is he really that used to this weapon? He moves with amazing precision, each swing is short, surprisingly fast for such a weapon, and with no wasted motion that I can see. Having discarded the mace, his face seems distant, as though this wasn't anything new to him. He moves as though he had fought this enemy every day, and has brought it down to a routine. Each attack beautifully intercepted, each counter would be crippling if there was actually a person inside of that pile of arms and armor. I haven't seen such a fluid connection with a weapon even in the elven realms, the technique is wonderful in it's simplicity. He removes one arm and than the other. The berserking golem takes no heed and proceeds to attempt to kick the swordsman or hit him with one of the weapons stick to its legs. Does he remember?
“You should take the head off if you want it to stop!”
A sharp glance in my direction makes me feel as though I distracted him at a vital moment. A swift twist of a parry knocks the golem into an awkward spread eagle, followed by thrust with a crackle and bright flash of lightning, and the head is rolling along the ground leaving a small trail of smoke.
The brightness of the aura fades somewhat, and he looks amused as he put the sword back in the harness on his back. His expression quickly changes to confusion or disorientation as he looks around for a short period at his handiwork, spots the mace again, and goes to pick it up. Our latest customer spots me and heads in my direction. Here it comes, he's going to shove the thing into my chest, tell me it's not good enough, and leave fuming.
“Yeah, I'll take it.”
“I'm dreadfully sorr- wait, what?”
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