Men of Bronze
one here. ”
It was a terrifying prospect but there was still a question nagging at me in the back of my head.
”Why are they doing this? ” I asked. ”Like why would they be so hostile to us in the first place? ”
To this there was a long pause before Jarvis spoke.
”The Order of Gilton is the violent wing of the Gilton liberation movement. The people of the east mountains known as the Giltons and the south lands known as the Virgils had fought long for independence from Jamin and its Kings and I guess some of them are tired of waiting. ”
It made somewhat more sense now but the voracity of the attack still did not seem in order. I felt little safely in what was once my mechanical suit of armor. If anything I felt trapped, gasping for air, sealed away from the Earth and sky. Yet I trudged on with Derek and Jarvis as they sallied forth further across the ridge.
Derek signaled to Amelia and Cambry to make their way up towards us by waving his arms on the cliff edge of our level down to theirs. Within a minute they had reached us and it became quite apparent what had happened was not the norm. Apparently it had been the first attack of its kind, using great heat and packed iron armaments to seal a knight in their suit. This was the story at least according to officer Derek who now took a vote. In the end we decided to head back to Dunn and regroup since there seemed little sign of any other Giltons and the daylight had begun to wane.
The trip back across the road was much like the first, only this time our pair of steam-crawlers rode west and with one less bronze-man, replaced now with a large piece of molten metal now cooled. It would soon be sent back north to the Capitol to be buried, I knew I wouldn be there for it though because I would still be stuck here on duty. I felt forsaken, what was once an opportunity to serve the King now truly did feel like servitude.
Upon reaching Dunn we wished him off on a transport crawler headed north before going back to the tavern from which we had been drinking and raised glass after glass to Franke and his service.
”Here here, ” said Derek. ”To a soldier and a friend, a man who died fighting those blasted rebels in the hills. ”
I thought and then spoke of his life before war, having known him quite a time before the others.
”To the son of a tradesman and a loyal friend too, always stopping by to greet me on his travels. ”
To this the others drank again and all throughout the night we told stories of his heroics and life before heading back off to camp. It was a cheery mood which I could not help but join, even as pain of the loss sat heavily within me. I could still remember meeting him for the first time. His father would always pass by the farm whilst my mother was still alive and from as far back as I could remember he would bring Franke with him. Always trading tools and coalatik to us for what water we could spare in that day.
That night I slept with the others, for I could not bear the loneliness and fear which filled me when laying on the crawler.
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