The Unyielding Wall thrusts himself between the two, glaring at them both as he orders them to stop. The man holds a muscular arm against each of them as he addresses the now-still crowd. All the raucous ardor is gone, the soldiers staring at their General quietly. I can't even hear a breath before the older man opens his mouth. Every single figure is silent to the General's presence.
Marshall takes a moment, a deep gully of air filly his extensive chest, the gas filling that which gives him power. The first word that comes from Marshall as he speaks to his men fills me with awe simply due to its solemnity, its acceptance. And as he continues, more soldiers fill the square before the wall with silent obedience.
"No man can point to my riches—only the things I harbor in belief for you all. I eat what you eat. I gain no more rest than you all. I often spend the night fighting so you can sleep soundly, trading my flesh, bone, and years for your comfort."
Marshall pauses for a split second, his voice booming outward with some application of Ether. Meanwhile, I try to fathom where he is going with his words. What point does this have?
"If you have scars, strip and show them to me. My body is covered in scars from every weapon you can imagine, every monster you have heard of, and every kind of Sigil known. All for the sake of your lives, your family, and your credit. And here I stand alongside you."
The Unyielding Wall's eyes glance at each and every soldier, including me, the gravity in his gaze unmistakable. He doesn't even pause while focusing on me. Something big must be happening that I don't understand.
"If you came here with bonds, I paid your debts without asking how you got them. I ripped apart the chains that any held onto you the moment you entered these walls. Many of you wear medals, honors, and badges by me. Anyone killed is buried with full privileges, and their families are given their remaining pensions, paid from my own unused coffers. Many now stand immortalized within the depths of Bent, some even within the headquarters in Onyx Gate."
Again, Marshall pauses, the air hushed yet tenser than any knot I've ever felt. Then, the man bellows out an accusation, one that cuts through the tension and makes people gasp in horror.
"And yet, now, many of you are being manipulated, losing your faith in me. Whether it is from outside, inside, or below the Territories, or even simply your own insecurities, I do not care. Even if it is from she who brings eclipses, I care not. I only ask for one thing before you allow yourself to be pulled in any way."
I hold onto Bonfire's now-cooled unconscious body as Marshall's words spur the fortress into a frenzy. Men, women, and even the unliving are appalled at his words as they stare at each other in suspicion.
"I ask for only one month. But if you cannot give that to me. That is fine. Go home."
The next order, one with apparent sincerity, calms the soldiers, the provoking ones surprised by the General's lack of care. Then, the man continues, and I see hundreds of soldiers gape at the floor in shame.
"Go home and tell them all that Marshall, Marshall Travis, the man who gave you a home when no one else would, a place to grow strong and improve yourself. Who defended your families for years, your homes for decades, and your people for all his life. Who never once asked for any more than your duty. Who gave you any opportunity to improve. Who allowed you all to refuse to enter the Wilds for a counter-attack many a time while I went alone. Who transformed you from boys to men. Who fed you, housed you, and offered his own blood for you."
I can't move my eyes from him, his words forcing attention and focus as he takes a short breath, the old man's shoulders sagging as if to enunciate his point.
"Tell them all that when he needed you all most, you abandoned him, leaving him under the protection and aid of Outlaws and inhumans alike, those very same people you speak ill of. Perhaps… this tale will seem worthy in the eyes of our people and the Devil. Perhaps… Perhaps those that bribe you, compel you, or force you will treat you better than I. Perhaps. Perhaps not."
Then, Marshall waves his hand, the General's head nodding to Tomas.
"Begone. I have no want for traitors or cowards. Bent will remain all the same. Whether it is I alone who defends these walls for the innocents behind or I have the world at my back. I will fight all the same. Kill him."
Sitting frozen in the trampled and ruined grass, I watch Tomas move with such alacrity that no one can react, his hand ripping the throat out of Ash's neck, using his fingers as claws sharper than any blade. Then, Tomas throws the body to the ground, moving to face Marshall as he kneels.
As he does so, dark, silvery shimmers of light float from the throat of Ash as his flesh bubbles and shimmers. Marshall glares at it before slamming his boot into the man's head, the upper portion of his head vanishing into a fog of blood as the bubbling calms. A Two-Face. Oh my...
Tomas salutes Marshall as he doesn't even react to the grisly killing of a long-time comrade.
"Anything, General. Are there any more?"
Marshall nods his head but refuses any more action. Meanwhile, the army sits hushed, the display of power and pull of hearts keeping them from rebelling any further. Marshall seems to have managed to pull the rug out before it even began.
"There are more. But they hide like conniving rats. Be careful, Cub. She guides the darkest of the chaotic disruptors."
Tomas nods silently, taking the advice as if it came from the most wizened soldier to ever live. It just might have. The General of the frontier then turns back to his men, delivering another speech, along with an order.
"You all are relieved of your duties. Should you wish to leave, you may do so. I will stay here for another month to guarantee the safety of the innocent behind our walls. More perhaps will be needed, but beyond that, you may all leave. Otherwise, none are allowed to move in anything less than groups of three. Whether you are pissing, drinking, or fighting, none are allowed to be alone or in duos. Should you be caught, you will be put to death. No questions asked. A blight exists in our walls, brought by the God from below."
Shouts return his declarations, primarily men and women who think he is going too far, but he immediately clamps down on them. Again, he stops the rebellions before they start.
"I do not care if I am tyrannical. I can only hope my kindness has bought me respect over the years, yet now, it is time you repay me. For this month, I can promise nothing other than agony, mayhem, and death. Should you die, there will be no grave. The Pygmies and demons are no longer playing around. Today, I got intel from Florence that two more Angels are coming from the demons and that Azra, the Stone Spear, will come to remove our resistance."
Gasps of horror fly from many of the soldiers. Even the hardened ones seem shocked to hear that Azra, a Virtued Pygmy, is coming to put Marshall down. They High Architect is leaving the war down south to come north. My heart sinks at the news. I don't think Marshall will get the months he has left. He's killed a Virtue before, but that was in a one-on-one. And I highly doubt he'll get that chance again.
But the bad news does not stop.
"Not just that, but there will be no more intel. Florence was discovered among the Pygmies as a spy by Azra. Our very own Fleshwalker now lies dead, his final message delivered as a warning. A month of hell is to come. Stay only if you have the grit. Bent has never had a place for cowards or cravens. I sent those away who could not handle it and recruited worthy ones. I thought you were all better. 'Spose I was wrong."
The moment Marshall finishes speaking, Tomas yells into the air, planting his head on the ground as if he is a peasant welcoming a king. The man minds little of the dripping flood from the dead soldier beside him.
"I am with you, sir! To Hell!"
Once he shouts his allegiance, another person does so, this one the woman from his office. Millie, the only other Colonel now other than Tomas, kneels on the other side of Marshall.
"To Hell!"
My chest trembles as another soldier joins them. Then another and another and another, until scores of men and women are shouting for the only General worth serving. The only Pillar worth dying for.
"To Hell!"
"To Hell!"
"To Hell!"
I can't help but join the calls, and Earl does so as well. And as the square begins to fall silent, even those who are likely traitors quieting, another figure joins in his declaration.
A fellow with a broad hat, an overcoat, and a shining Colt on his hip steps up to Marshall before bowing his hat down with his hand. The Iron Consul's eyes radiate their golden glow as he declares who he follows.
"To Hell."
I can see a slight smile brandish itself onto Marshall's lips before he forces it away, the man walking away from his men with only a few parting words.
"Get back to work. Handle the dead, Tomas."
His steps carry him away, and only after he leaves entirely does anyone move, Tomas, being the first. The Wolf's voice threatens every living thing in the square, including Millie, Earl, and me, as the Cub guards his father.
"If I see another hint of question against Marshall, I will kill you. I do not care how long you have served. Say nothing and leave. That is the only kindness I will deliver. If you see anyone acting weirdly, inform me. They may be a Two-Face, Manipulator, or Groundswalker."
Tension reappears as Tomas leans down and picks up the body of Ash, his gun left on the ground. I can already see Earl staring at it as Tomas departs.
"I will kill you all if I have to."
Then, I look to the side for Heath, who was coughing on the ground just a moment ago while attempting to recover from Bonfire's heat.
Now, he's gone, the grass where he was kneeling empty and barren.
*******************
I walk back toward the Pit after the soldiers leave the gathering, returning to their duties. As I do so, though, I notice several people slip out from the gates, leaving forever. I can't blame them. Most probably have families to return to or simply don't want to die here. It's fair.
My steps are slow and unhurried after I said goodbye to Earl. He took Bonfire to another doctor. Abraham went off to find Heath as he was downright livid after what happened. I don't know what transpired, still. Was it a misunderstanding? Or something more sinister? I don't know. Pain wracks my form as I step, the medicine Earl gave me only doing so much for Bonfire's burns left upon me.
What I do know is that Marshall has Scott, the best doctor at Bent waiting for me. Still, I don't hurry. My body is sore, and after that business with Bonfire, I'm quite crippled to be honest. Earl did preliminary care, but the rest will be done by Scott, even if he's not expecting it.
Thunks of my boots against the steps echo dimly through the stairs down into the Pit, and it feels quiet. Really quiet.
Way too quiet.
Even when no one is in the Pit, I can pick up on echoing sounds coming from it, the wind and distant noise entering it and flowing into the prep room. But right now, I hear nothing. It's almost as if... something is hiding their presence.
Carefully, I move down the steps, preparing myself for what may lie at the bottom. It should be safe, we are in Bent, after all, but things always slip through. It could also be Virgil waiting for me, or perhaps Scott has a guard hiding his existence.
I flow a tiny stream of Ether into my feet, gathering enough for an Arbalest after several stairs down. It's ready to shunt me backward if there is any danger.
And so, I step into the prep room, and what I find is the opposite of what I'm expecting.
Virgil, one of my possibilities, sits at a table, his hood removed and a smile on his face. Beside him is Dakota, who he's been caring for since I began training with Marshall. Yet what surprises me the most is what's on the table.
On the table sits a short, multilayered food with an apparent softness—a sweet marvel I've never seen before. It's a masterpiece of layers, frosted to perfection. Colors dance on its surface, adorned with delicate decorations. Fresh fruits crown the top, enticing and fragrant.
My mouth waters simply seeing it, the food reminding me of some of the sweets Ma used to cook for my birthday, something I tossed off as a forlorn possibility. I can't help but draw a broad grin on my face as I glance at Virgil, and the Darkstalker returns the grin.
"All for you, buddy. Had I known your birthday was the 18th... I would have prepared something, but I hope this makes up for it. The chef was unwilling to make a cake, so Elizabeth and I stayed up late, er, she did as I don't really sleep. Luckily, we had most of what was needed, and she learned how to make one long ago. Though, I'm unsure if you'll like the taste."
I shamble forward, barely listening to him as my stomach growls, the Bloody Palm urging me to eat it. I take the chair beside Virgil as he cuts me a piece, icing falling before he shifts it to me.
My hands go to eat it, but he forces me back with a chuckle.
"You're not an animal, Wyatt. Eat it with a fork."
With an embarrassed laugh, I abide by his command, taking a bite of my piece with the utensil.
It's... amazing. It's fluffy, sweet, and... cherry-like. I almost cry as I dig in, eating more and more, the first pastry I've had since Ma got sick. Seconds pass into only a single minute before the cake is entirely gone, as my arm, egged on by my artifact, forces me to devour it all.
I scrape the plate for leftovers as I see Virgil sitting back in his chair, a soft gaze upon his scarred face. He didn't use to have scars on his head. I...
"I'm proud of you, Wyatt. You might have made my life ten times more complicated, but I'm happy I met you. Now Heath, come in. Heal him up."
Another man steps into the room from the Pit, flanked by two 5th Sigiled guards as he sits opposite me and holds a hand out.
"Here, child. Your burns are quite bad, but it will only take a few moments. Fortunately, it seems most of the heat was deflected by your Bulwark."
A cool sensation runs through my whole from as Scott cuts a thin line on his hand and places it against mine. Then, I can visually see my skin remold back into normal as the Bloody Palm joins Scott. The burns completely fade in less time than it took me to eat that cake.
"Good. I'll be on my way now."
Once Scott finishes, he promptly leaves, heading up and out of the Pit. That leaves Virgil and me sitting quietly at the table. That is until he speaks.
"Great. That was only meant to treat your exhaustion, but I heard of the shot down rebellion a little bit ago. Now, come, let's have you meet everyone else."
Huh?
"What?"
Again, he laughs as he stands and pushes his chair into the table. Virgil then ambles over toward the gate that enters the Pit's proper fighting arena. His arm flies out as he speaks, the other sliding his mask into place.
"You think only I'm here for your birthday? It might be late, but we got everyone who could spare their time. Bonfire was supposed to come, Abraham too, but... anyway. I had you eat in here because I knew you wouldn't want to share. And... you eat like an animal."
My heart trembles in excitement as I hastily stand up and follow him. Everyone? For my birthday? Really? My feet feel light and fragile as I step into the Pit, finding a dozen people waiting for me on shabbily set up chairs and tables.
Skyswain, several Bados, Elizabeth, Earl, Johnny, Lennox, Silas, Frank, Blake, Autumn, Primrose, Virgil's family, and even two other figures appear. Shouts of joy and 'Happy birthday' ring out as I appear. Primrose even breaks open a bottle of wine, downing it as she kicks up her legs with a sigh.
But despite all that, the focus of my attention is the two massive splotches of dark fur that are Rou and Ka. How did they get here? When? They stay a bit away from everyone else, only close to Johnny and Lennox, but still. How?
Virgil shoves me forward, whispering as he does so.
"Go on. Primrose and I found them yesterday, wandering the nearby forests. And they followed us back, Ka saying something close to Johnny's name. Don't be embarrassed. We're all here for you."
My whole face breaks into a smile as I quickly stride to the group of people, even as tension simmers undertow. I can't help but think about Bonfire, Cigar, and Woody. The latter two are dead, forever gone, and Bonfire is hurt. He will recover physically, but that rage... it worries me.
Shouts and yells ring out as Silas sets up a poker table, waving at me to join. It only partially pulls me from my thoughts. Virgil ambles over to his family, joining Nora, Aron, and Victor as they watch the youngest brother paint something that Aron shouts out is for me.
Meanwhile, Primrose and Autumn start an argument over something stupid, the two women already drunk. Johnny stands beside them, waiting to see if he needs to stop it. Rou and Ka stand awkwardly, Johnny positioned in between them as Lennox stares up at the two massive Rougarous, the short Stoneclad beginning his million questions.
But as everything turns raucous, I find my first friends and join them at a table. Esther, Earl, and Elizabeth are seated with a smile, Earl holding something up for me.
"I made you something---well, I'm still working on it. But... I should be done soon. I hope you like what it looks like without a Sigil."
My eyes move to the object in his hands as Earl's arms tremble to hold it up for me. It is an arm or at least it looks like one made of dark bronze steel with lines of running divots that give it a sleek design.
Gasping, I take it from him, realizing that it is a right arm, the one I am missing. I marvel at the wondrous creation, a mechanical arm crafted with precision and artistry. Gleaming gears, wires, intricate machinery, and even a rotating magnet at the shoulder intertwine, forming a symphony of metallic beauty far beyond my understanding. The arm's brass and copper exterior is adorned with weapons, a scythe-like blade that runs outside the forearm, and a short dagger that nestles itself within the wrist.
I can only stare at it as Earl speaks a loud.
"Uhm... it's not ready yet if you don't like it. I still have looong way to go I've been working on it since we got back together. I'm hoping to take a Craftsman later this month and get the arm ready in a month or so after that. The original plan was to put a Coil inside of it too, but that's unrealistic for right now. So, instead, it has a spinning magnet in the shoulder that should slow bullets heading for your body. Not enough to stop them, but the plan is to eventually put a Coil inside it, which you would fire from your wrist. Then, there is a blade on the forearm that extends out and one on the wrist for close quarters. It's not even functional yet, only a prototype at most, but I wanted to show you my progress. Oh, and the hand should work fully, though, unless I put in the right Sigil, I doubt you'll be able to feel from it. Barely slept recently to get it all together along with my other duti--"
I shut up the man as I yank him into a hug, my eyes watering despite his words that I hardly understand. But I do know one thing. He’s creating the impossible to make up for a past mistake. My arm is scorched shut and never to be healed naturally, yet he found a way around it for me.
"Thank you."
The Unyielding Wall thrusts himself between the two, glaring at them both as he orders them to stop. The man holds a muscular arm against each of them as he addresses the now-still crowd. All the raucous ardor is gone, the soldiers staring at their General quietly. I can't even hear a breath before the older man opens his mouth. Every single figure is silent to the General's presence.
Marshall takes a moment, a deep gully of air filly his extensive chest, the gas filling that which gives him power. The first word that comes from Marshall as he speaks to his men fills me with awe simply due to its solemnity, its acceptance. And as he continues, more soldiers fill the square before the wall with silent obedience.
"No man can point to my riches—only the things I harbor in belief for you all. I eat what you eat. I gain no more rest than you all. I often spend the night fighting so you can sleep soundly, trading my flesh, bone, and years for your comfort."
Marshall pauses for a split second, his voice booming outward with some application of Ether. Meanwhile, I try to fathom where he is going with his words. What point does this have?
"If you have scars, strip and show them to me. My body is covered in scars from every weapon you can imagine, every monster you have heard of, and every kind of Sigil known. All for the sake of your lives, your family, and your credit. And here I stand alongside you."
The Unyielding Wall's eyes glance at each and every soldier, including me, the gravity in his gaze unmistakable. He doesn't even pause while focusing on me. Something big must be happening that I don't understand.
"If you came here with bonds, I paid your debts without asking how you got them. I ripped apart the chains that any held onto you the moment you entered these walls. Many of you wear medals, honors, and badges by me. Anyone killed is buried with full privileges, and their families are given their remaining pensions, paid from my own unused coffers. Many now stand immortalized within the depths of Bent, some even within the headquarters in Onyx Gate."
Again, Marshall pauses, the air hushed yet tenser than any knot I've ever felt. Then, the man bellows out an accusation, one that cuts through the tension and makes people gasp in horror.
"And yet, now, many of you are being manipulated, losing your faith in me. Whether it is from outside, inside, or below the Territories, or even simply your own insecurities, I do not care. Even if it is from she who brings eclipses, I care not. I only ask for one thing before you allow yourself to be pulled in any way."
I hold onto Bonfire's now-cooled unconscious body as Marshall's words spur the fortress into a frenzy. Men, women, and even the unliving are appalled at his words as they stare at each other in suspicion.
"I ask for only one month. But if you cannot give that to me. That is fine. Go home."
The next order, one with apparent sincerity, calms the soldiers, the provoking ones surprised by the General's lack of care. Then, the man continues, and I see hundreds of soldiers gape at the floor in shame.
"Go home and tell them all that Marshall, Marshall Travis, the man who gave you a home when no one else would, a place to grow strong and improve yourself. Who defended your families for years, your homes for decades, and your people for all his life. Who never once asked for any more than your duty. Who gave you any opportunity to improve. Who allowed you all to refuse to enter the Wilds for a counter-attack many a time while I went alone. Who transformed you from boys to men. Who fed you, housed you, and offered his own blood for you."
I can't move my eyes from him, his words forcing attention and focus as he takes a short breath, the old man's shoulders sagging as if to enunciate his point.
"Tell them all that when he needed you all most, you abandoned him, leaving him under the protection and aid of Outlaws and inhumans alike, those very same people you speak ill of. Perhaps… this tale will seem worthy in the eyes of our people and the Devil. Perhaps… Perhaps those that bribe you, compel you, or force you will treat you better than I. Perhaps. Perhaps not."
Then, Marshall waves his hand, the General's head nodding to Tomas.
"Begone. I have no want for traitors or cowards. Bent will remain all the same. Whether it is I alone who defends these walls for the innocents behind or I have the world at my back. I will fight all the same. Kill him."
Sitting frozen in the trampled and ruined grass, I watch Tomas move with such alacrity that no one can react, his hand ripping the throat out of Ash's neck, using his fingers as claws sharper than any blade. Then, Tomas throws the body to the ground, moving to face Marshall as he kneels.
As he does so, dark, silvery shimmers of light float from the throat of Ash as his flesh bubbles and shimmers. Marshall glares at it before slamming his boot into the man's head, the upper portion of his head vanishing into a fog of blood as the bubbling calms. A Two-Face. Oh my...
Tomas salutes Marshall as he doesn't even react to the grisly killing of a long-time comrade.
"Anything, General. Are there any more?"
Marshall nods his head but refuses any more action. Meanwhile, the army sits hushed, the display of power and pull of hearts keeping them from rebelling any further. Marshall seems to have managed to pull the rug out before it even began.
"There are more. But they hide like conniving rats. Be careful, Cub. She guides the darkest of the chaotic disruptors."
Tomas nods silently, taking the advice as if it came from the most wizened soldier to ever live. It just might have. The General of the frontier then turns back to his men, delivering another speech, along with an order.
"You all are relieved of your duties. Should you wish to leave, you may do so. I will stay here for another month to guarantee the safety of the innocent behind our walls. More perhaps will be needed, but beyond that, you may all leave. Otherwise, none are allowed to move in anything less than groups of three. Whether you are pissing, drinking, or fighting, none are allowed to be alone or in duos. Should you be caught, you will be put to death. No questions asked. A blight exists in our walls, brought by the God from below."
Shouts return his declarations, primarily men and women who think he is going too far, but he immediately clamps down on them. Again, he stops the rebellions before they start.
"I do not care if I am tyrannical. I can only hope my kindness has bought me respect over the years, yet now, it is time you repay me. For this month, I can promise nothing other than agony, mayhem, and death. Should you die, there will be no grave. The Pygmies and demons are no longer playing around. Today, I got intel from Florence that two more Angels are coming from the demons and that Azra, the Stone Spear, will come to remove our resistance."
Gasps of horror fly from many of the soldiers. Even the hardened ones seem shocked to hear that Azra, a Virtued Pygmy, is coming to put Marshall down. They High Architect is leaving the war down south to come north. My heart sinks at the news. I don't think Marshall will get the months he has left. He's killed a Virtue before, but that was in a one-on-one. And I highly doubt he'll get that chance again.
But the bad news does not stop.
"Not just that, but there will be no more intel. Florence was discovered among the Pygmies as a spy by Azra. Our very own Fleshwalker now lies dead, his final message delivered as a warning. A month of hell is to come. Stay only if you have the grit. Bent has never had a place for cowards or cravens. I sent those away who could not handle it and recruited worthy ones. I thought you were all better. 'Spose I was wrong."
The moment Marshall finishes speaking, Tomas yells into the air, planting his head on the ground as if he is a peasant welcoming a king. The man minds little of the dripping flood from the dead soldier beside him.
"I am with you, sir! To Hell!"
Once he shouts his allegiance, another person does so, this one the woman from his office. Millie, the only other Colonel now other than Tomas, kneels on the other side of Marshall.
"To Hell!"
My chest trembles as another soldier joins them. Then another and another and another, until scores of men and women are shouting for the only General worth serving. The only Pillar worth dying for.
"To Hell!"
"To Hell!"
"To Hell!"
I can't help but join the calls, and Earl does so as well. And as the square begins to fall silent, even those who are likely traitors quieting, another figure joins in his declaration.
A fellow with a broad hat, an overcoat, and a shining Colt on his hip steps up to Marshall before bowing his hat down with his hand. The Iron Consul's eyes radiate their golden glow as he declares who he follows.
"To Hell."
I can see a slight smile brandish itself onto Marshall's lips before he forces it away, the man walking away from his men with only a few parting words.
"Get back to work. Handle the dead, Tomas."
His steps carry him away, and only after he leaves entirely does anyone move, Tomas, being the first. The Wolf's voice threatens every living thing in the square, including Millie, Earl, and me, as the Cub guards his father.
"If I see another hint of question against Marshall, I will kill you. I do not care how long you have served. Say nothing and leave. That is the only kindness I will deliver. If you see anyone acting weirdly, inform me. They may be a Two-Face, Manipulator, or Groundswalker."
Tension reappears as Tomas leans down and picks up the body of Ash, his gun left on the ground. I can already see Earl staring at it as Tomas departs.
"I will kill you all if I have to."
Then, I look to the side for Heath, who was coughing on the ground just a moment ago while attempting to recover from Bonfire's heat.
Now, he's gone, the grass where he was kneeling empty and barren.
*******************
I walk back toward the Pit after the soldiers leave the gathering, returning to their duties. As I do so, though, I notice several people slip out from the gates, leaving forever. I can't blame them. Most probably have families to return to or simply don't want to die here. It's fair.
My steps are slow and unhurried after I said goodbye to Earl. He took Bonfire to another doctor. Abraham went off to find Heath as he was downright livid after what happened. I don't know what transpired, still. Was it a misunderstanding? Or something more sinister? I don't know. Pain wracks my form as I step, the medicine Earl gave me only doing so much for Bonfire's burns left upon me.
What I do know is that Marshall has Scott, the best doctor at Bent waiting for me. Still, I don't hurry. My body is sore, and after that business with Bonfire, I'm quite crippled to be honest. Earl did preliminary care, but the rest will be done by Scott, even if he's not expecting it.
Thunks of my boots against the steps echo dimly through the stairs down into the Pit, and it feels quiet. Really quiet.
Way too quiet.
Even when no one is in the Pit, I can pick up on echoing sounds coming from it, the wind and distant noise entering it and flowing into the prep room. But right now, I hear nothing. It's almost as if... something is hiding their presence.
Carefully, I move down the steps, preparing myself for what may lie at the bottom. It should be safe, we are in Bent, after all, but things always slip through. It could also be Virgil waiting for me, or perhaps Scott has a guard hiding his existence.
I flow a tiny stream of Ether into my feet, gathering enough for an Arbalest after several stairs down. It's ready to shunt me backward if there is any danger.
And so, I step into the prep room, and what I find is the opposite of what I'm expecting.
Virgil, one of my possibilities, sits at a table, his hood removed and a smile on his face. Beside him is Dakota, who he's been caring for since I began training with Marshall. Yet what surprises me the most is what's on the table.
On the table sits a short, multilayered food with an apparent softness—a sweet marvel I've never seen before. It's a masterpiece of layers, frosted to perfection. Colors dance on its surface, adorned with delicate decorations. Fresh fruits crown the top, enticing and fragrant.
My mouth waters simply seeing it, the food reminding me of some of the sweets Ma used to cook for my birthday, something I tossed off as a forlorn possibility. I can't help but draw a broad grin on my face as I glance at Virgil, and the Darkstalker returns the grin.
"All for you, buddy. Had I known your birthday was the 18th... I would have prepared something, but I hope this makes up for it. The chef was unwilling to make a cake, so Elizabeth and I stayed up late, er, she did as I don't really sleep. Luckily, we had most of what was needed, and she learned how to make one long ago. Though, I'm unsure if you'll like the taste."
I shamble forward, barely listening to him as my stomach growls, the Bloody Palm urging me to eat it. I take the chair beside Virgil as he cuts me a piece, icing falling before he shifts it to me.
My hands go to eat it, but he forces me back with a chuckle.
"You're not an animal, Wyatt. Eat it with a fork."
With an embarrassed laugh, I abide by his command, taking a bite of my piece with the utensil.
It's... amazing. It's fluffy, sweet, and... cherry-like. I almost cry as I dig in, eating more and more, the first pastry I've had since Ma got sick. Seconds pass into only a single minute before the cake is entirely gone, as my arm, egged on by my artifact, forces me to devour it all.
I scrape the plate for leftovers as I see Virgil sitting back in his chair, a soft gaze upon his scarred face. He didn't use to have scars on his head. I...
"I'm proud of you, Wyatt. You might have made my life ten times more complicated, but I'm happy I met you. Now Heath, come in. Heal him up."
Another man steps into the room from the Pit, flanked by two 5th Sigiled guards as he sits opposite me and holds a hand out.
"Here, child. Your burns are quite bad, but it will only take a few moments. Fortunately, it seems most of the heat was deflected by your Bulwark."
A cool sensation runs through my whole from as Scott cuts a thin line on his hand and places it against mine. Then, I can visually see my skin remold back into normal as the Bloody Palm joins Scott. The burns completely fade in less time than it took me to eat that cake.
"Good. I'll be on my way now."
Once Scott finishes, he promptly leaves, heading up and out of the Pit. That leaves Virgil and me sitting quietly at the table. That is until he speaks.
"Great. That was only meant to treat your exhaustion, but I heard of the shot down rebellion a little bit ago. Now, come, let's have you meet everyone else."
Huh?
"What?"
Again, he laughs as he stands and pushes his chair into the table. Virgil then ambles over toward the gate that enters the Pit's proper fighting arena. His arm flies out as he speaks, the other sliding his mask into place.
"You think only I'm here for your birthday? It might be late, but we got everyone who could spare their time. Bonfire was supposed to come, Abraham too, but... anyway. I had you eat in here because I knew you wouldn't want to share. And... you eat like an animal."
My heart trembles in excitement as I hastily stand up and follow him. Everyone? For my birthday? Really? My feet feel light and fragile as I step into the Pit, finding a dozen people waiting for me on shabbily set up chairs and tables.
Skyswain, several Bados, Elizabeth, Earl, Johnny, Lennox, Silas, Frank, Blake, Autumn, Primrose, Virgil's family, and even two other figures appear. Shouts of joy and 'Happy birthday' ring out as I appear. Primrose even breaks open a bottle of wine, downing it as she kicks up her legs with a sigh.
But despite all that, the focus of my attention is the two massive splotches of dark fur that are Rou and Ka. How did they get here? When? They stay a bit away from everyone else, only close to Johnny and Lennox, but still. How?
Virgil shoves me forward, whispering as he does so.
"Go on. Primrose and I found them yesterday, wandering the nearby forests. And they followed us back, Ka saying something close to Johnny's name. Don't be embarrassed. We're all here for you."
My whole face breaks into a smile as I quickly stride to the group of people, even as tension simmers undertow. I can't help but think about Bonfire, Cigar, and Woody. The latter two are dead, forever gone, and Bonfire is hurt. He will recover physically, but that rage... it worries me.
Shouts and yells ring out as Silas sets up a poker table, waving at me to join. It only partially pulls me from my thoughts. Virgil ambles over to his family, joining Nora, Aron, and Victor as they watch the youngest brother paint something that Aron shouts out is for me.
Meanwhile, Primrose and Autumn start an argument over something stupid, the two women already drunk. Johnny stands beside them, waiting to see if he needs to stop it. Rou and Ka stand awkwardly, Johnny positioned in between them as Lennox stares up at the two massive Rougarous, the short Stoneclad beginning his million questions.
But as everything turns raucous, I find my first friends and join them at a table. Esther, Earl, and Elizabeth are seated with a smile, Earl holding something up for me.
"I made you something---well, I'm still working on it. But... I should be done soon. I hope you like what it looks like without a Sigil."
My eyes move to the object in his hands as Earl's arms tremble to hold it up for me. It is an arm or at least it looks like one made of dark bronze steel with lines of running divots that give it a sleek design.
Gasping, I take it from him, realizing that it is a right arm, the one I am missing. I marvel at the wondrous creation, a mechanical arm crafted with precision and artistry. Gleaming gears, wires, intricate machinery, and even a rotating magnet at the shoulder intertwine, forming a symphony of metallic beauty far beyond my understanding. The arm's brass and copper exterior is adorned with weapons, a scythe-like blade that runs outside the forearm, and a short dagger that nestles itself within the wrist.
I can only stare at it as Earl speaks a loud.
"Uhm... it's not ready yet if you don't like it. I still have looong way to go I've been working on it since we got back together. I'm hoping to take a Craftsman later this month and get the arm ready in a month or so after that. The original plan was to put a Coil inside of it too, but that's unrealistic for right now. So, instead, it has a spinning magnet in the shoulder that should slow bullets heading for your body. Not enough to stop them, but the plan is to eventually put a Coil inside it, which you would fire from your wrist. Then, there is a blade on the forearm that extends out and one on the wrist for close quarters. It's not even functional yet, only a prototype at most, but I wanted to show you my progress. Oh, and the hand should work fully, though, unless I put in the right Sigil, I doubt you'll be able to feel from it. Barely slept recently to get it all together along with my other duti--"
I shut up the man as I yank him into a hug, my eyes watering despite his words that I hardly understand. But I do know one thing. He’s creating the impossible to make up for a past mistake. My arm is scorched shut and never to be healed naturally, yet he found a way around it for me.
"Thank you."
