From the time the clan moved into the silent city, the scholar's loft had been called as much more by anachronistic habit than by description. The Bruma clanhome barely had a few spaces in the upper levels, while the city provided an entire compound of conjoined buildings. The increased population of scholars over the years had only spread the use of the compound further.

Sabine was sobered by the plan they were to undertake just as much as Ahnasha. She discussed the details with Fendros and Ahnasha for some time the previous day before she was satisfied to join in. She was not mistrusting of her packmates, rather she was afraid of some unforeseen trap.

Ahnasha and Fendros had thankfully not continued their outing for more than one day. Without the time for recovery, they might have looked worse than Darahil.

The four of them entered Darahil's laboratory to find him not alone. Three other people were tinkering with dwemer machinery and soul gems on various parts of the central table of the room. Two worked on their own, while two others murmured to each other over one piece. Additionally, a robed figure was sitting cross-armed on a chair with his cowl over his head and eye, clearly napping. None of them gave Meesei and her pack any more than a passing glance before absorbing themselves back into their tasks.

From a darker part of the room, Darahil himself appeared out from behind a Dwemer sphere well lit from three orbiting magelights. As usual, he was straight as a board, lightly frowning, and stoic. However, his usually slicked and orderly hair had sprung several frizzy bangs and his sunken, dark-ringed eyes were wide and intense, as if in deep, stimulating focus.

"Champion, thank you for arriving swiftly," Darahil said. He was just as eloquent, but speaking at a faster pace than usual. "Apart from a few possible avenues of testing that would not be appropriate for the scope of time required, I believe I have found a method of muffling the automata."

Fendros raised his brow in surprise.

Darahil's nose twitched. "Unfortunately," he continued. "The enchantment not only frays via any violent movement, the working enchantment only lasts exactly two hundred and fifty-seven seconds after activation, thereafter requiring two common souls to recharge. Any longer and the power required would interfere with the enchantments already laid into the apparatus. The Dwemer were unparalleled engineers and enchanters, but that unfortunately means that every enchantment they inlaid has an elemental and intertwined role in the automaton as a whole. Fray one, and you compromise upwards of a quarter of the functionality. They would not fight."