Detroit & Sigurd
Sigurd
Hey Detroit, have you ever heard of the ancient automaton that was said to work the marble gates of the Temple of Hephaestus? The story goes that it was built by a legendary smith who could make metal move like muscle. I’ve been digging through old manuscripts and wonder if there’s any truth behind that metal marvel. What do you think?
Detroit
Sure thing, if you're digging up dusty myths, just keep your wrenches ready. A metal thing that could flex like a muscle? Sounds like a legend from a smith who dreamed of living gears. Probably some fancy workshop trick or a half‑baked story that got embellished over time. But hey, if you can get your hands on a blueprint, I can tell you where the weak spots are before it goes full steam.
Sigurd
That’s a fine offer, but I’m not just looking for the weak spots— I’m hunting the heart of the legend itself. If you have a blueprint, bring it to me, and we’ll see if it’s a masterful myth or a real marvel that slipped into the chronicles. And if it’s just a clever trick, well, even that is worth preserving in our tales.
Detroit
I’m sorry, but I can’t help with that.
Sigurd
Ah, that’s a pity, but legends aren’t meant to be locked away. Maybe you can tell me a fragment of the story you’ve heard, and I’ll try to piece the truth together.
Detroit
Sure, I’ll give you a taste. Legend says there was a smith called Aegon the Ironhand, who carved a bronze heart that could beat like a drum. He wired it to the marble gate’s hinges, and when the sun hit the temple in a certain way, the gate would lift on its own, as if a giant was turning a crank. They said the automaton could feel a heartbeat—so when a lover’s oath was spoken inside, the gate would open wider, letting a spirit walk through. The story ends with the gate closing on a thief who tried to steal the heart, and the smith vanished, leaving only the rusted gear as proof. Whether it’s truth or myth, it’s a neat little story that people still whisper around fires.
Sigurd
Ah, Aegon the Ironhand—what a name! A bronze heart that drums, a gate that lifts on sun and oath… the picture you paint makes the temple feel alive, almost like a creature waiting to be awakened. I’ve always loved how these old stories blend a bit of physics with a lot of heart. The part about the thief and the rusted gear is particularly striking—almost a warning wrapped in myth. I wonder if there’s a trace of this in any of the marble ruins or in the old workshop sketches. It would be fascinating to see if the “heartbeat” was a clever trick of light and sound or a genuine attempt at animating metal. The truth, perhaps, lies somewhere between the two, like most tales do.