The savory aroma of stir-fried cured boar and spicy golden mushrooms continued to hang delightfully in the warm cave air. Gu Qingfeng and Tie Shan had polished off their platters to the very last speck of garlic. They leaned back against the dark rock blocks with looks of complete, transcendent satisfaction.
Lin Xiao was wiping down the cutting board and stacking the glazed plates. Just then, he noticed a deep silence settle over the far side of the hearth.
Sitting in a wide, orderly semicircle around the cooking station were Da Shi and the eleven cleansed black glass titan golems. The twelve twenty-foot automatons sat cross-legged on the stone floor, their huge knees drawn up to their chests so as not to crowd the living companions. Their polished black glass armor reflected the warm yellow glow of the magma chimney pipe. Meanwhile, their crystal-clear sapphire eyes watched the small circle of diners with quiet, unblinking fascination.
Because they were beings forged from ancient fiery stone, star-iron armatures. First Epoch spirit-runes, they possessed no mortal stomach organs. They had no throats for wine, no stomachs for cured pork, and no tongues to taste wild mountain ginger. Over ten thousand years of war and underground solitude, they had known only the cold instructions of defensive combat formations and the painful torment of rotting soul-rust.
