It's a fine morning in Rephidim. The cool morning air carries with it the scent of the countryside instead of the rotten filth of Darkside. Perhaps it's all a matter of which direction the wind blows in from.

Business has been up and down as of late, but still good. It appears that everyone has something broken or bent these days, and the mouse proprietor's hands have been kept busy enough. It's another day at Kia's Renewal, and the shopowner's doors are just opening up for the morning's business, whatever that may be today.

A neatly dressed white mouse unlatches the door and takes a cautious whiff outside. Smiling at the scent on the air, she pulls the door wide open and positions the jamb to hold it there, then roams the rest of the shop, pulling back curtains and opening windows to let the shop air out.

Outside, the usual morning group of peddlers and early customers can be seen wandering around. A Kavi junk dealer pushes a cart that looks much too large for his small frame down the street, while some Jupani children in Temple Scout uniforms giggle and play-wrestle with one another on their way to morning classes.

A short milkman in a white uniform – an especially frilly one – stops by with the morning milk, setting down a couple of bottles at the front door.

After fussing over a few of her eclectic displays, the mouse proprietor goes to the door to take in the milk bottles, offering a smile to the deliverer. "Hello there! Are you new on this route?" she asks curiously. "I'm Kia," she adds after a moment, in case it wasn't obvious.

Across the street, an Eeee merchant with brightly dyed fur and clothes can be seen, rearranging his wares on the partially open-to-the-air floor of a run-down building across the street.

The fox looks up, adjusting his cap. "Why, yes I am! And just to show how appreciative I am of my new job here, and in the interest of making friends with the folks along this route … I'd like to break the ice by singing a little song for you!"

Catching sight of the bat on the opposite side of the street, Kia smiles and waves to him before returning her attention to the milkfox. "Oh! Mr. Fox. Whyever did you get a job delivering milk – won't it take time away from your playing?"

"Not at all!" says the fox, beaming widely, as he pulls his ever-present lute from where it was leaning against a wall just outside the door. "I'll demonstrate!" He begins strumming … and singing… "Ohhhhhhhh!"

Kia shushes the bard. "Not here! You'll get gremlins all over my store." She glances around at the crowded street, then steps outside, giggling at the fox's song. "Shh! Shh!" She looks more entertained than annoyed, however.

The fox's mouth is wide open, and he starts to sing the next verse … but his lute lets out a plaintive SPRANG, and he droops. "Not here? Oh … well … " He sighs melodramatically, and picks up his empty milk carrier. "All right then… "

Among the familiar faces in the crowd, a poodle that looks quite out-of-place can be seen directing a pudgy raccoon down the street. The raccoon seems quite overburdened with a large wooden box draped across his back.

The mouse looks disappointed, too. "You know how it is with machines, though. … Could you finish it across the street?" She reaches out to take his hand and lead him around the corner, to the largely abandoned buildings along the intersecting street, behind her shop.

As the mouse leads the fox along, she overhears a snippet between Shingle and the overburdened raccoon. "The Renewal? Yeah… ish just up that a ways. Mind th' steps." The poodle taps her foot impatiently.

"Well … I suppose," concedes the fox, letting the mouse lead him along, though he still has his "hurt puppy dog" look on, looking for all the world as if he's intent upon milking any sympathy he possibly can.

"Oh dear," the Skeek says as she catches Shingle's words. "I think I'm about to have a customer." She looks apologetically at the minstrel-turned-milkfox. "Perhaps you can wait?" she asks him hopefully, stepping back to the front of her shop and glancing down the street to see whom the Kavi peddler was talking to.

The fop-fox lets out an obligatory whine and a loud sigh, and does his best to look as if the whole world is rallied against him, poor thing that he is.

Shingle points a hand in the Skeek's direction and the raccoon clumsily whirls himself around and begins marching towards the shop. Behind him, the powdered poodle woman follows. Yes indeed, most definitely a pair of customers.

Kia pats Mr. Fox's hand sympathetically, though she doesn't seem to be taking his put-upon act very seriously. She walks over to the pair and smiles brightly to both of them. "Good morning! I'm Kia. I thought I heard Shingle mention my name to you. May I help you with that?" she asks the Rath'ani.

The fox slips off, disappearing with a swish of his red-furred tail.

The raccoon opens his mouth to say something, but the poodle interjects before he can make a sound. "Good mooooooning!" she yaps. "I'm Madame Belissa St. Caros. Don't worry about the weight of my music box; that's what porters are for after all!" She holds out her hand as though offering it to the mouse to shake but whips it away before she has a moment to touch it. "I've been told that you have a knack at fixing things? I've been having a horrible time with the family music box. It makes the most dreadful noises when we try to play it."

Through a few startled blinks, the mouse keeps her smile in place, dropping a polite curtsey to the noblewoman. "A pleasure to have you grace my shop, Madame," she says, shifting her hand from the move that would have shaken St. Caros's to help the porter with the box instead. "I would be delighted to attempt to repair your music box. Please, do come into my shop." She helps the raccoon get the unwieldy package up the steps and into the store.

The raccoon porter obligingly follows the mouse's lead and manages to climb the steps without incident, while the poodle follows behind, yammering on. "We haven't played the thing in years, but then I remembered my childhood when mummy couldn't hire musicians to play me a lullaby so late at night, so she purchased the box for me instead. But when I tried using it again recently, it made the most horrific racket! I'm afraid to let those dreadful Technopriests touch the thing, since they might make it do something like bite my arm off or play some booooring Temple anthem, and the Titanian music boxes just aren't the type of thing a lady can go to sleep with – all that dreadful hammering and banging."

As the group enters the store, there's a sound of scratching on one of the windows – shuttered, despite Kia's earlier routine of opening up all the windows in the morning.

The raccoon just grunts as he sets the box down. Apparently he's happy to let the poodle do most of the talking.

The mouse nods in silent sympathy with the Madame's plight, her smile unwavering until she notes the scratching on the shutter. I thought I just opened all of those. She erases her frown after a moment, turning back to the box and opening it up to take a look.

As the lid opens, a small sculpture of a poodle in a tutu pops up and begins twirling around. A few notes of music start to play, followed by a shrill screeching noise and some odd scrabbling sounds in the mechanism.

Kia's smile broadens a little at the tutu-clad statuette, and then she grimaces at the screech. She looks for the trigger that senses when the lid is opened or closed, testing the sculpted poodle first, carefully, to see if that's it.

The raccoon porter, now relieved of his burden, begins to poke around the shop.

The ballerina appears to be in fine condition, although it has some odd marks on its paint. It looks chipped, or perhaps chewed on by something.

The button that holds the mechanism off – and releases it when the lid opens – appears to be in fine shape as well. When depressed, the box is quiet as always, and when released the music plays for a few moments and then the racket begins.

When depressed, the button also feels like it's vibrating ever so slightly.

"Porter, do open that window. It feels so stuffy and musty in here." Lady Belissa yawns.

Kia nods thoughtfully to herself, and keeps the button held down as she examines the interior of the box, studying the marks on the ballerina for a moment, then frowning as she examines the button, noticing its vibration. "Where did you say you had kept the box, Madame St. Caros?"

"In my basement, I believe. But we had to move it out after that dreadful sewage leak." The poodle wrinkles her nose and appears to be about to swoon.

Obligingly, the raccoon starts to crack open the window, picking up a piece of wood from the ground that had been knocked loose somehow and sticking it back under the shutter to brace it open again.

The tinker closes the lid gently, and examines the sides of the box for any sign of a removable panel or other way to open the device. "Sewage leak?" she echoes. She sniffs at the music box.

Hanging upside down just outside the window is a foppish fox. He smiles (upside-down), and begins to play…

The porter promptly slams the window shut again.

The mouse glances up at the fox's singing, and lifts one hand to hide her giggles from the poodle, then returns her attention to the device.

The poodle daubs at her chin with a handkerchief. "Ahem. Yes, a pipe broke, or something like that. Daddy had to drink up his wine collection before the sewers spoiled it all. It was a lovely party though. The box was moved to my room before it could be damaged, thank the First Ones!"

"Yelp!" says the fox, followed by a sound of a crash and a sprang.

"Oh!" The mouse looks worried at the sound, and steps around to open the window again. "Mr. Fox, are you all right?" she calls out, looking around.

The fox pops up from some clutter outside the window, and sings some more…

The fox, having finally finished his song, beams happily, and bows several times. "Thank you! Thank you! You're a wonderful audience!" He waggles his eyebrows. "What do you think?"

Laughing, the mouse applauds for a few moments, and blows the minstrel a kiss before making shooing motions. "Thank you, Mr. Fox! It was lovely." She smiles sweetly. "I've got to go now, though; I've got a customer." She returns to her countertop and the music box.

The fox nearly swoons at Kia's praise … and slips off.

The box has the slightest hint of sewer odor, something fairly bad smelling at least. A small black pellet falls out from a seam under the box as the mouse examines it.

Kia wrinkles her nose at the pellet on the counter, poking at it with the end of a narrow-tipped screwdriver to verify its identity.

"I do hope my box can be repaired soon, if this is what music has fallen to these days. It must be the war." The poodle appears to be ready to swoon again.

Briefly, the fop-fox can be heard murmuring to himself, outside the front door, "Waitaminute … the sign's all wrong. It says … 'Kia's Renewal'?" He whines to himself, then slips off down the street.

The pellet smashes easily under the weight of the screwdriver. It's probably exactly what the mouse suspects it is. And what her eyes don't confirm, her nose does.

"Yes, Madame," the mouse says in reflexive agreement. "Is it all right if I take this upstairs to work on it, my lady? I keep most of my tools up there." She glances to the poodle. "If you like, I can have it delivered to your residence once I've gotten it fixed, rather than Madame having to wait here for it."

The raccoon takes a position behind the poodle and she promptly swoons against him. He shrugs and begins to fan her. At the news, the poodle's eyes shoot open and she hops up from the raccoon's arms. "Oh! So you can fix it! How delightful! Delivery will be fine, quite fine!"

Kia nods to the noblewoman. "I believe I'll be able to, although I'll need to open it up first to be certain."

"My manor is just outside the scholar's quarter, the St. Caros Estate. Anyone can show you the way, or I can send my porter to fetch it tomorrow if that would be easier." The poodle lady's tail wags excitedly, while the raccoon just rolls his eyes.

Flashing a quick understanding smile to the Rath'ani, the mouse answers, "That's fine. I can deliver it as soon as I've got it put back together – or bring it back if it turns out I can't fix it," she adds carefully. "If you'd like to wait – or have your porter wait – until I've opened it up to check, then I can give you a better estimate on the situation."

"Perhaps I could stop by later? I did so want to do some shopping today, and I couldn't possibly carry everything on my own." Belissa tries to look contemplative, but it comes of as more of a pout. "Could I return in the morning?"

Smiling brightly at the lady, the mouse nods. "Of course! I simply wasn't sure how eager you were to determine what the trouble was with it. Anytime you wish to check in during store hours, I'll be happy to give you an update then – otherwise, I'll deliver it back to your estate when I'm finished with it."

"Wooon-der-ful!" the poodle trills, bouncing on her toes. "Porter and I will pop out for a bit of shopping then, and see how you're doing a bit later in the day." She daubs at her cheek with her handkerchief, smearing a little black "birthmark" there.

The raccoon looks to be mouthing "won-der-ful" behind the poodle's back, but he apparently lacks the enthusiasm of his employer.

The mouse nods. "That's very considerate of you, my lady." She tries not to notice the smeared birthmark, and bites her lip to avoid giggling at the 'coon.

After seeing Madame St. Caros and her porter out with a cheery wave, the proprietor closes the door and makes sure the bells are in place, so that if someone enters the shop, they'll alert her to the arrival of new customers. She then wraps her arms around the closed music box and carries it, very carefully, up the spiral staircase at the back of her shop and places it on a mostly clear table, then gets a few tools handy and looks for a panel that's designed to be opened on its sides, or underneath it.

A few more little pellets fall from the box as it is carried, and it vibrates strangely in the mouse's hands. but both her and the box make it to the workshop intact.

As the mouse studies the box, she frowns in concentration, looking a little alarmed by the vibrations it's continuing to give off. "Oh dear… ," she says softly, at a sudden thought.

The bottom of the box looks like it can be pulled open further with a screwdriver, and the side panels look like they can be removed fairly easily as well by removing the screws holding them into place.

Considering the way the box is vibrating – unevenly – it strikes Kia that whatever left the droppings is still inside. "Oh dear. Poor thing."

A few idle scratching noises can be heard from the box, and then it quiets down.

Kia taps her screwdriver against her lower lip while she studies the box, and then she starts looking around her workroom, thinking over what she has to work with.

Something skitters to the opposite side of the box.

The mouse rummages around, and produces a trunk. She takes a few moments to empty it out, then drags it over to the table holding the music box. She opens the trunk, then studies the music player again. The screwdriver tinks lightly against the side that the sound within had scurried to.

The thing inside scurries to the other side of the box this time.

Nodding to herself, Kia starts loosening the screws, one by one, getting them almost, but not quite, all the way out of one side. She keeps one hand in place over the panel, just to be especially sure that it doesn't drop off.

Thankfully the box, although sturdy, isn't so firmly constructed as to make opening it impossible. In no time the screws are loosened and the mouse can feel the panel give slightly in her hand.

The tinker twitches her whiskers to and fro, then takes the box firmly in both hands, one palm against the loosened panel, fingers curled on the underside so she can be sure not to drop it, and she lowers the music box into the opened trunk beside her.

Movement from inside can be felt through the wood as the music box is gently lowered into the trunk. Kia feels something push against the panel for a moment, but she manages to keep it closed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the tinker positions herself so that she'll be able to see into the music box if she removes the loose panel. She taps on that side once more, to scare the animal within into backing away again.

Obligingly, the creature scurries to the side away from the loose panel.

This accomplished, Kia moves one hand to the lid of the trunk, then quickly uses the other hand to pop the almost-free bolts off, making little tapping noises to ensure that the animal doesn't come closer while she's doing that. Finally, she gently removes the panel.

Once the panel is free, nothing happens for a moment. Then a little gray furry nose pokes out through the opening, followed by a pair of quizzical antennae, and one spindly bug-leg. A vermite.

The vermite eases itself out of the music box. It appears to be missing a leg, and looks sickly thin. Its black eyes squint and blink at the light in the room.

"You don't look very dangerous," the shopkeeper tells the emerging critter. Just the same, she withdraws her hand and closes the lid to the trunk gently.

A surprised squeak issues from the trunk as the lid closes and some scrabbling can be heard inside. Seconds later, a bell rings from downstairs.

"Oh, dear." Kia makes a brief face, then calls out, "Just a moment!" She hurries to the far side of the room and opens the door to a cabinet which serves as her pantry. She breaks off a piece from a loaf of bread, then goes back to the trunk and cracks the lid just wide enough to let her shove the piece of bread in.

The scrabbling abruptly stops once the brad is dropped in, replaced by frantic chewing and crunching noises instead.

"Quite all right!" a voice downstairs shouts. It doesn't sound like the poodle. "I just wanted to drop a bag off with you. Just some junk I found and I've no use for it. I'll see my own way out."

Closing the trunk again, she heads downstairs. "Hmm?" she says to the visitor, ducking down quickly to see who it is.

A raccoon in garishly colored mage's robes can be seen adjusting a burlap sack. A bluish gear has sawed its way loose in one spot while something that resembles a long metal pole pokes out from the top of the bag like some sort of marker flag. "Good morning, Madam!" The raccoon waves cheerily. "They told me you were good at fixing things, so I decided just to drop this off here and see what you could do with it before I went to do my morning rounds."

Kia tilts her head curiously at the burlap bag. "What is it? Oh, I'm Kia, by the way," she adds with a smile for the 'coon.

"Fenter Nuttenboltschen, Chaos Mage Adept. A pleasure, Miss Kia." He tips his floppy hat to the mouse. "I've no idea what it is, really. Only that I tripped over it this morning when I went to go check up on a commotion in the storage rooms on the old Collegia grounds. I didn't remember this pile of junk being there and the guard told me to do something with it, so here I am!"

She opens her mouth in a silent "oh" and goes to take the sack, offering the mage another friendly smile. "Well, thank you! It looks like very interesting odds and ends. And I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, as well."

"Likewise, ma'am. Let me know if you manage to figure out what the thing is." The raccoon mage tips his hat again and moves to leave.

"I will." The mouse waves cheerfully to the raccoon. "I'd better get back to checking on my new five-legged vermite anyway," she adds with a whimsical grin, and turns to go back upstairs.

Back upstairs, the noises in the box have quieted down considerably. The only sounds now are the occasional chewing noise followed by a small vermite belch.

Remembering something, she goes back downstairs after dropping the burlap bag down to one side, and retrieves her bottles of milk. She next fetches the loaf of bread out of the pantry again, and breaks off another chunk. This one she trickles milk over as she returns to the trunk.

While the mouse feeds the vermite, the gear bag starts to make some tearing noises and the pole sticking inside of it falls out, smacking against the floor. An instant later, and an umbrella top suddenly pops out through the top of the pole.

Kia attempts to retrieve the music box while the vermite is distracted with the milk-soaked bread. She keeps half an eye on the five-legged animal, but takes more care with the box, lest she drop it, or loose pieces of machinery fall out. She squeaks at the sudden noises from the bag, blinking and wincing. She sets the music box down on the table before turning to stare at the burlap container. "What, are you alive, too?" she asks it.

Thankfully the vermite is more interested in ravenously stuffing its face than to react to having the music box removed and neatly placed on a table. There are a few chewed gears inside and a vermite leg stuck in a spring, but nothing that looks beyond repair. As for the bag and its contents, they remain on the ground. A bluish gear rolls out and spins on the floor. The sunlight glints off of symbols etched into its surface.

The "umbrella" pole is made of the same bluish material and looks to have some stones set in its neck.

The mouse rubs her forehead as she looks at the umbrella pole. "You do not look like junk to me," she tells it firmly. She closes the lid to the trunk again, this time checking it to make sure that there will be some ventilation through it so the vermite doesn't suffocate accidentally, then goes to investigate the contents of the sack.

The bag contains a mess of gears made from metal, chitin, and even stone. They all have the same odd symbols etched onto their surface. The umbrella pole is about four feet long with a chunk of crystal on one end and six stones set into the other end where the brightly colored umbrella currently protrudes from. Even more odd, something that looks like a small mechanical torso can be seen amidst the gears, complete with two four-fingered hands. The torso is segmented and looks almost like it were some comically proportioned type of blue armor, except there's no room to actually fit a person inside all of those gears and springs.

Whiskers twitch from side to side as the mouse studies first the symbols on the gears, then starts sorting them out by habit, stacking them to one side, out of the way so that she can get to the mechanical torso. "My," she murmurs. "You do look like you might be alive," she tells it.

Luckily the mouse does know enough about gears and mechanics to probably get this assembled with some work. Unfortunately, although there is a torso, there don't appear to be any legs or a head inside of the bag. The cut of the odd bluish metal covering the outer covering was supposed to resemble clothing – some sort of fine suit with a jacket and bow-tie. The metal on the hands is a paler blue, hinting at 'gloves'.

"A mechanical butler?" She lifts the torso out and sets it on another table. "I wonder where the rest of you is?" She tilts her head at it, then twitches her whiskers again. "But no one's paying me to fix you, so I'd better get back to the Madame's music box." She settles the umbrella, as well, making sure everything is in a stable position and unlikely to move under the influence of mere gravity.

Kia makes herself comfortable on a chair before the table with the music player, and settles in to the task of carefully cleaning and rearranging the pieces within, humming the fox's tune under her breath while she works. Light glints off the crystal pieces on the umbrella, where it's been propped in the dusty workroom. "Come on down to Kia's Res-tor-a-tion… "
"She knows the art of sim-pli-fi-cation… "