Irkith had been working for countless solar revolutions, alone, collecting and refining raw resources, while he considered the burden of responsibility the Life Giver had laid on his back. He wished to continue working without ceasing, but constructing life receptacles was a task that required a great deal of time and attention, for they would begin life as empty vessels, with little more than a simple pattern for thoughts to follow, upon which learning would establish a greater pattern. Each would have to be taught and cared for until mature. If he imposed his will on the formation of the new life stone, to impart his knowledge, then there would be no freedom or choice; they would all be Irkith, rather than the Kingdom of Ulkun and that was clearly not what the Life Giver intended.

  As he considered the conundrum, Irkith also considered materials for his people’s life receptacles. Based on what he’d learned from the Life Giver, any material could be fashioned into a vessel to hold life energy, with varying properties.

  Wood was easy to shape and required very little energy to imbue, but was unsuitable, due to a tendency to weather and decay after very few solar revolutions, which wasn’t even close to enough time; by his own recollections, it had taken thousands of revolutions for Irkith to mature.

  Clay fired as a stone was the next obvious choice, but Irkith knew how brittle this was, knowing that someday, the clay his own life stone had been fashioned from would be the cause of his death.

  Metal was extremely durable, but it resisted the infusion of life energy more than most materials and would require the Ulkun made from it to feed prohibitively often.

  The transmuted metals were an interesting option that Irkith considered for a long time. Initially imparting life to those metals would be just as difficult as giving life to any other metal, but once the work was complete, the living metal would never have to feed, for all transmuted metals drew in a measure of such energy at all times. However, based on his calculations, it would require the life from every tree of the forest to create such a life.

  In the end, he decided that would be a waste of resources, since populating the city with only a few hundred Ulkun would require irreparably harming the world and the image that naturally came to mind when he considered what Kurg should be was a city of thousands, all working toward a common goal of enhancing the city with the work of their hands. At most, such a life receptacle could be used as a one-off.

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  Upon further consideration, Irkith settled on carved stone, which was a good compromise between various advantages and drawbacks. The strongest stones would last for countless solar revolutions. Such Ulkun would require a steady supply of life to devour, but the impact would surely be manageable, since the forest seemed able to quickly replace the trees Irkith drained for sustenance.

  Finally, after having decided on how to construct the Ulkun, Irkith was left with the bothersome choice of working to build the City of Kurg or working to build the Kingdom of Ulkun, for he couldn’t do both at the same time.

  In the end, Irkith decided to divide himself in two, at least metaphorically, by making a second life receptacle, into which he would impart all of his knowledge.

  He started by shaping clay into a small column, about the same size as his own life stone, with a face in one side that resembled the face of the Life Giver in general form, but with different features. Once it looked the way he liked, he fired the clay, to make it a stone. Next, he created a mold of the stone, by filling a fired-clay bowl with a molten metal that was rather brittle when solid. While it was still molten, he plunged the stone column into it and waited for the metal to cool. When it had, he carefully smashed the fired-clay column to pieces, while carefully avoiding cracking the metal, leaving a mold he could use for pouring another metal into.

  He worked to combine the four base metals used in the alloy Kurg was constructed from, then infused the melted mixture with a small measure of life, to transmute the metals into their final form, just before pouring into the mold. He had to move quickly, because once it cooled, it would never melt again, at least not at temperatures available to him. He waited for just the right temperature, then smashed the outer, brittle mold to pieces, leaving a metal column of the transmuted alloy he desired, which he quickly worked to smooth and polish while it was still soft enough to allow shaping it.

  The end result was a gleaming, gold-hued column with a face, which he took to the forest. Moving from tree to tree, he drew the life from each and every one, pressing it into the column, while focusing to impart all of his knowledge as the base pattern for the life to follow. The back-biting trees screamed in terror, but he heeded them not, just the same as every time he fed on them.

  When the work was done and the forest was no more, Irkith addressed the column, “Who are you?”

  “I am the Architect of Kurg.” The column answered, speaking in a slightly higher tone than he did, “Who are you?”

  With a sigh of relief, feeling as though he had delegated half his responsibilities to his metal twin, Irkith answered in a deep, regal tone, “I am Irkith, King of Ulkun.”

  As soon as Irkith had constructed a husk to house the Architect, the two of them got to work on their own tasks. Irkith worked to build the kingdom, while the Architect worked to build the structure they would live in. Together, they worked to build the living City of Kurg.