“Give me a second, will ‘ya sir?” Rak groaned as he struggled to zip his pants up and paced through the darkening frozen road.

“Pissing on the roadside? Doubtful even the most savage of humans would do so.” With a lantern in hand, illuminating their path, Franz lightly mocked the junior ecliant first time conducting a night watch.

Despite his provocation, Rak knew better than to fairly rebut. Franz, or Seven-Nine-Two as per his serial-name, was a seasoned watchdroid, with forty years of experience and double was his age. He would occasionally tell stories of his triumphant battles against the vile human barbarians across the Wasteland when he was once a proud Sentinel. Of how he would keep the unruly humans in Screwpile in line, to not oppose the Centum Order. His tall tales would increase in grandeur alongside the wines he drank at the watchtower. In comparison, Rak was merely a youngling of an ecliant.

Rak released a long sigh, signalling his silent defeat, his breath turned to icy smoke that spread into the night air. The road the watchdroids trailed on was slippery and battered under the winter sky, the Iron Trail was its name, and its limbs stretched across every major city in the nation of Xearth. No matter how many times Rak has traversed this stony road, it would always leave him in awe.

“Am I so dreadfully dull, that you would rather stare at frozen rubbles?” the senior ecliant asked jestingly.

Hearing the remark promptly burst Rak out of his daze and he shakenly faced his superior. “I’m so sorry, sir! That wasn’t my intention.” The boy pressed his shivering and reddened palms together and bowed profusely.

“No lies needed, kid. You’re offending nobody.” The elder said. “Truth be told, I’ll be more shocked if you had managed to find any good in this forsaken night.” The old man patted the young lad’s quivering shoulder. “Now c’mon. Let’s head back to the watchtower. I’ll receive an earful from those stuck-up pricks up in Sentry if I were to let new recruits die from frostbites and boredom.”

With their task completed, the two then gradually trod down the road. Silver ornaments and green three-pointed star badges equipped on their azure uniforms clashed and rang in the midst of the silent night. Their sheathed iron swords lightly bobbed side-to-side from their waist with every passing step, while their old wooden bows crackled along to the sound of their frozen boots.

Aside from the noises of snowdrops and their own making, nothing else discernible was caught by the glazes of Rak. No ecliants. No animals. No humans, thought Rak as he shook his lantern side-to-side.

“You won’t be finding anything lurking about at this time of night, kid. Not under this snowstorm.” The watchtower captain commented on Rak’s futile act.

“It still doesn’t hurt to try…” murmured Rak as he seemingly ignored Franz’s remark, his attention, instead, still beaming towards the darkest corners of the road.

Franz released a light but oddly relieved sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you, but why did you become a watchdroid with old wares like me? Nowadays, young men like you ought to strive for cushy warm jobs up in Sentry, or seek to further sharpen your mind in Harford, no?” he asked out of curiosity, and to lighten the tense and awkward atmosphere.

“Frankly, too expensive for ecliants like myself up there. This would have to do,” Rak bluntly said.

“Well, you say that, but your actions just now don’t seem like they’d come from someone doing a job out of lack of better options.”

Rak didn’t answer his superior. His watch remained sharp, albeit now porting a gauche grimace.

Seeing his junior so serious, Franz kept teasing him. “Did a human hide in your closet at night? They eat the bread in your pantry? Kidnapped your brothers and sisters?”

“No. No, they did not.” The boy again dismissed his superior’s attempt at a joke by bluntly answering.

Having been dismissed twice now by his junior, Franz abandoned his jovial attitude. “Relax, boy. No sane humans would dare step one foot out at midnight, let alone such a freezing one, lest they fancy encountering the Sentinels.” Icy smokes released with each passing breath, masking themselves with the dropping snows, while he rubbed his reddened hands together to warm himself up. “Hell, even I don’t want to run into them nowadays.”

“As you said, only sane humans,” Rak grunted. “You’re giving those savages far too many credits.” Now where are you hiding you vermin, he murmured to himself, making sure his senior wouldn’t hear his vulgar choice of words.

“Your disdain towards humans never ceases to astound me. Even I feel a slight bit of pity for them.” Franz sighed.

What? A baffled Rak with bewildered pupils finally tilted his sight towards Franz, however, his attitude no longer matched that of a junior and his senior. “What are you suggesting?” he gradually paced towards Franz, in a manner unbefitting of a lower-ranked watchdroid. “As a longstanding officer, I expected your conviction to far surpass mine.” He now faced Franz neck to neck, and while Franz was slightly taller and bigger, Rak’s composure was unwavering as their sights clashed. “Perhaps you’d receive words from Sentry after all, only for different reasons.”

A moment of silence happened, where the only sound to be found was the haunting gale traversing the night while ghostly snows fell, obscuring any natural beauty to be found.

Franz was the first to break the silence. He revealed an irate and seemingly disappointed visage, Rak had never seen Franz ported such a serious expression with his eyes glared and face straightened. “Proceed with your scout. We return in ten.”

His deep and sombre voice in the midst of the deafening silence managed to return the wit to Rak as he nervously nodded to Franz and trotted off, all while trembling in coldness and fear.

With his superior’s affirmation, Rak walked off the smooth stone road, and into the field embracing its left, whilst his partner walked the opposite.

Even in the dead of night, small and battered wooden shacks could be spotted spreading sporadically, and within them, dimmed humanoid silhouettes could be noticed from their lit windows.

Five humans were eating. Four humans were seemingly arguing. Three humans were engaging in acts of debauchery. Two humans were seemingly attacking each other with kitchen knives. One human was hanging mid-air, with a rope hugging their neck. How filthy, Rak whispered upon closely observing the shacks, his eyes remained fixated and mind mesmerised, nonetheless.

Rak satisfyingly took in a lungful of freezing air, before he diverted his gaze and turned over.

What?

From the depth of night, a sharp bolt of gale beamed nigh-pass his cheek. His legs were jellied, and sweat began to drip despite the cold. Was that an arrow? Rak frantically thought.

Dishevelled and snivelling, his limbs shivering and nose running like a pup in the snow, he stumbly unsheathed his sword. “Who’s out there?” he shouted while aimlessly flailing his light in one hand and his sword in the other. “Come out now under the order of the Centum!” he clumsily repeated the warning.

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Light footsteps ahead of Rak could be heard padding on the snow, and as the sound of the encroaching march over snow loudens, a dimmed humanoid figure gradually revealed itself and embraced the light’s grace.

With his hands firmly gripped on the hilt until his nails pierced through his glove and into his palm, he pointed the sword forward. His teeth gritted and his breath shallowed, the sound of his pacing heartbeat clouded his ears and mind. With what little courage he had left, Rak blindly charged forward.

“Put the damn sword down, boy.”

It was a familiar ragged deep voice. Rak dimly opened his eyes and squinted while lifting his lantern, slowly revealing a visage of Franz porting his bow on his left while dragging a limp corpse on his right. He could feel his stomach churning, while his visage irked at the sight of the corpse painting the sleet velvet with each passing drag. The arrow lodged in his skull snapped, with one half trapped in the snow pile. He wore no more than a tattered winter coat, with an orange rag tied around his neck.

“Thief?” Rak asked while avoiding the sight and resisting the urge to gag.

“Could be…” Franz released the corpse. “But slightly too skilful for your average thief. Either a bowman gone daft or a rebel.” The senior officer knelt and inspected the corpse with his lantern, a prospect which Rak found foreign and irksome. “It’s a human so it can’t be the Automaton,” Franz murmured. “Ginger band… I wager on the Firstkind then.” The elder sighed as he lifted himself and patted the snow off his garment.

“They still exist? I haven’t heard about them in years.”

“Evidently so,” Franz pointed at the corpse, “and no doubt more are to come.” The old man took in a deep lungful of the frozen air and then meticulously checked his gears, the following of which Rak promptly imitated. “Alright, let’s head back before either the rebels or the hail kill us,” Franz said with a firm tone. “Arms and light check?”

“Yes, everything seems fine.” Rak awkwardly answered. “Look, about earlier. I’m sorr–”

“Save it for after, kid.” Franz interrupted, which slightly startled Rak as he braced himself for the admonishment. “I’ll make sure you scrub enough privies until the thought of raising your voice against me won’t ever cross your mind again,” Franz said with his usual light-hearted and joking tone, which this time brought a slight reassuring smile to Rak.

“Now, on with your light and let’s g–”

A thunderous sound followed suit with immediate darkness surrounding Franz.

What was that? Rak shook his head violently. The sound was nothing like Rak had ever heard before. The noise rang through his ears like colliding pillars of steel and dazed his mind.

“Hand me your lantern!” Franz’s shout was hard to discern, but as the deafening sound began to dwindle, Rak tossed his lantern to Franz. “Who’s out there? By the order of the Centum, lay down your arms!” Franz warned the hidden attacker.

No soul responded. No arms dropped. No body revealed, despite every man and woman on Xearth knowing the consequences of defying the Centum Order.

As Franz repeated his warning and unsheathed his sword, Rak noticed Franz’s lantern lying buried in the snow. The lamp was shattered, and its shards and oil scattered everywhere. What monstrosity could have done something like this? As Rak knelt and rummaged through the broken lamp, he found a small bead lodged within the remains. It reminded him of odd-shaped stones he would collect near riverbanks as a child. This stone made of lead was one he had never found in his life.

“Rak,” a whisper broke Rak out of his trance and back into the dire situation. “Get back to base now.”

Bewildered at such an absurd request from his partner, Rak violently shook his head. “I’m not leav–”

“This isn’t up for debate. I command you to return to base and report an attack,” Franz swallowed his breath, “committed by an unknown rebel group, presumably Firstkind, using unknown weaponry.” He resolutely commanded Rak.

The prospect of leaving his peer behind was foreign to Rak, so was fleeing from detestable enemies. His head burned with anger, but his palm sweated with fear. He glared at Franz, disapproving of the plan, but his body wouldn’t stop shivering as he did.

“You’re brave, Rak,” a gentle tone from Franz, once more, broke Rak free from his dread, “but your bravery is needn’t here. Now go and make a name for yourself.” Franz commanded.

This was the first time someone had ever put that much faith in him. His heart began to pump, his fists tightened, and his teeth clenched.

As Rak turned around and readied to make his escape, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure gradually walking out of the night’s shade and face forward Franz’s light.

A figure revealed itself, coated in a thick winter cloak dyed white with snow, with a ginger cloth tied around their arm – though the ferocious hail made it hard for Rak’s eyes to discern the embroidered emblem. Rak knew the urgency of his duty, but for a moment, his eyes were captured by the assailer. A woman of auburn skin distinguished herself from the falling flakes. Her one eye of gold, another patched with dark leather, both hidden under her long murky hair and only revealing themselves when the wind blew. Her haunting beauty in the dead of night reminded Rak of childhood stories about winter witches that charmed young men and women alike.

She was not the witch he knew of. She held no potions and rode no broomstick, and the mystical trinket she was pointing at Franz was no wand.

From his eyes alone, Rak noticed the trinket was made of steel, with a red downright grip for her to wield and a thin pipe stretching flat. Without the tube, it would be no bigger than her own hand. The relic smelt of a charred but also pungent wax candle at its last spark. As he further fixated on this unknown item, he noticed a cylinder with several holes around its circumference, each holding the same stone that shattered Franz’s lantern. It was hard to discern it amongst the snowstorm, but Rak was sure that along its steel body lay carved several numbers and the name – Terra.

“Be careful, sir.” Rak pointed at the unknown device. “I’m not sure what they are but dodge those stones at all costs,” Rak warned Franz of his revelation.

The old man smirked and nodded.

“In the count of nine, lay down your arms and lay flat on the ground!” Franz pointed his sword towards the woman.

“One would do,” she whispered beneath her frozen breath. Her light words masked along the haunting gale before reaching Rak’s ears.

He did not understand the meaning behind her words, and he did not have the time to ponder over them, as he heard Franz begin to count.

Nine. This mission entrusted to him by Franz would be his most important. Sweat trickled down his forehead, as he shuddered to think of the responsibility imposed upon him.

Eight. He gripped his sword tightly. The memory of martial training coursed his mind as he readied himself. He had never been good at wielding a blade, but his record on the running track was unmatched by his peers.

Seven. Thoughts of staying with Franz crossed his mind. He wanted to prove and forge his bravery and loyalty to the Centum Order, despite his legs wavering and his breathing uneven.

Six. This mission was entrusted to him, he could not refuse, and he could not fail. He wiped his sweat away, as he discarded the thought of disappointing more people – he’d shoulder the fault if it was needed.

Five. As the thought of staying surfaced, so did the thought of forsaking Franz and bargaining for his own life – for he still had so much to live for. He violently shook his head.

Four. He leered forward, but the woman remained still, her hand unmoved, her expression dull akin to a doll.

Three. He took a deep lungful of the frozen air, as he stilled his heart and muster every bit of his strength.

Two. Memories of his family evoked, warming his body, and instilling him with hope in this desperate mission.

One. As Franz shouted out the final count, Rak planted his boots into the snow and bolted off – leaving behind the shadows to be consumed by night and hail. In the end, nature reclaimed all.

Rak ran. The snow buried his feet with each passing step, seemingly preventing him from retreating – but he didn’t stop. He huffed and puffed. Gale entered his lungs, leaving a scorching feeling despite the cold air. His eyes were aimless, and his body went numb from the cold, but though he could no longer feel his hands or feet, his mind wouldn’t let him stop. He couldn’t look back, nor would he.

The sound of thunder descended behind him. Steels clashing and rapid squirming disturbed the tranquil peace of the moonless night – and the peace of Rak’s mind. The scent of smoke. The scent of fire, but Rak was sure there was no fire where that woman stood.

Rak kept running. He ran until he no longer knew how to breathe. The farther he ran, the lesser the sound of thunder strikes and swords parrying could be heard. The field of fire, he fled from – wondering where such a mighty blaze of flame could spring forth in such a cold empty night.

*

Rak couldn’t tell how long he had run, or even where he was going.

Before long, as his legs turned jellied and he collapsed into the murky snow, his ears could no longer hear anything other than the wistful gale and approaching footsteps towards his rear. Stay away from me, Rak weakly murmured under his breath, as his eyes and mind were halfway slumbered.

“Are you alright?”

Rak tilted his frozen face over, to find a watchdroid badge in front of him, with the bearer kneeling next to him.

“What happened out there?” the watchdroid petulantly asked as he lightly lifted Rak up.

Rak’s eyelids could barely break free from the icy seals, he had no way to tell whether this watchdroid was an ally or a disguised enemy, but his limbs could no longer scour through the wasteland, and his mind could no longer guide him. With the last bit of his strength, he forcefully opened his frozen lips until it tore. “Bring me to Sentry… The world needs to learn… Before it is too late…”