Barty's Cryptic Clues

The air in Barty Cogsworth’s workshop hummed with the low thrum of esoteric machinery, a symphony of whirs and clicks that felt more alive than any of Will’s meticulously crafted mechs. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light piercing the gloom, illuminating shelves crammed with peculiar artifacts: a brass sextant that seemed to point nowhere, a collection of crystalline gears that pulsed with faint internal light, and a stuffed owl with one disconcertingly glass eye. Will shifted his weight, feeling like an intruder in a mad inventor’s fever dream. He’d come seeking answers, or at least a less cryptic form of guidance, after Silas “The Serpent” Vance had unleashed his latest barrage of sabotage.

Barty, a man who appeared to have been assembled from spare parts himself – a tweed waistcoat over a grease-stained shirt, spectacles perched precariously on a bulbous nose, and fingers perpetually smudged with unknown substances – was meticulously polishing a pocket watch that seemed to be ticking backward. He hummed a tuneless melody, oblivious to Will’s growing impatience.

“So,” Will began, trying to inject a casualness he absolutely did not feel, “Silas. Big fan of yours, apparently. Really likes sending goons to… ‘persuade’ people out of their competitive spirit.”