Ah, the Clockwork Citadel, huh? That old place still smells like brass and rust, but I swear the gears there could still spin if you give ’em a proper squeeze. A chronometer that keeps the sun in rhythm? Sounds like a real heart, or a very expensive wristwatch. I’ll rummage through my junk drawer for any relics that might fit the bill. Just don’t expect me to finish it before the next solar eclipse—those old timers have a habit of slipping away when you’re not looking. Let's bring the seasons back, one clank at a time.