Steel and Mana

Chapter 387 – Winter in Markoth (3)

Something had changed. It was visible in the faces and eyes of Markoth's citizens and could be felt throughout the city. Even within the dead of a freezing winter night dominating the land, the streets of Markoth were now full of its people.

They had come from every district—be it the remaining nobles wrapped in the fur-lined cloaks that survived this far, the few smiths which the city still had, wearing soot-stained aprons from their late-night work, or because only beside their forges could they feel safe and warm.

No matter who they were, they were coming out from their hiding places. Parents carried their children on their shoulders, their tiny fingers clutching at scarves and hoods. Even the injured and the old leaned on walking sticks or the arms of their kin. They all headed towards the north. They were all soon standing on the walls, watching.

No one stayed behind. No one could, not when the soldiers began shouting that the Avalonians were fighting—and that they were winning.

It didn't matter that they couldn't see much, not in the dark, moonless night; the flashes of bright light and the painful wail of the monster rampaging in the distance were enough. It was like watching Titans battle, sometimes noticing their silhouettes, battling an abomination that was even bigger than them. Then... they heard a grueling death cry before everything went silent. Did they really kill something that big? Something that... horrible? They couldn't believe it. They didn't at first... not until they witnessed it for themselves.

From atop the city’s walls, the people of Markoth watched as the four machines moved across the frozen plains like actual gods returning from battle. They were imposing the first time they arrived, but now? They were the pure manifestations of the divine, dragging behind them the mangled remains of monsters that had once terrorized their land. They just killed something that previously plunged their whole kingdom into chaos, killing thousands upon thousands and decimating their armies and all their mages they had before it was finally killed.

Yet, now, these four finished off two—not one, but two. It was hard to comprehend such a feat, but it was right before their eyes.

The first corpse was enormous, its head broken and split apart, still oozing blood, its limbs splayed like shattered banners, sometimes still wriggling as the bulky mech dragged it along, holding onto one of its legs and pulling it through the snow. It was a sight that none of them would ever forget.

The second, though much smaller, was still just as jaw-dropping. Clutched in the arms of the Valiant, it was tossed down before the city wall like a hunter returning home from the woods with dinner.

"Don't worry," Veron's voice came from the Valiant, and even his distorted, more machine-like tone was welcomed by the people watching. None of them flinched; they just stood there and listened, "Avalon is here to protect you. We are the Knights of Sovereign Leon, and our duty is to slay these beasts."

Listening to him, watching the slain abominations, the people—so used to their own and the monsters' screams—kept standing still. As if they were frozen into place... Until someone cried out. Whoever it was, they did not do it in fear or grief. But in something almost forgotten:

Actual joy.

"Gods bless Avalon!" Someone followed suit, yelling as best as he could. Then, a child, bundled in layers of patchwork wool, raised their arms toward the towering machines.

“They killed it!” his voice was high, disbelieving as if he had just witnessed a miracle, joined by all the other children around him. "They killed the monsters!"

"It is a miracle!" another voice, raw and cracking from years of suffering, tore from the crowd. “We’re saved!” he rushed forward, kneeling and bowing towards the mechs, the saviors who were towering taller than their city's walls yet no longer scary. They were beautiful.

It spread like a wave as the silence was broken, and joy spilled out like a flood from between their lips, filling the city with cheering, shouting, and tears of relief.

The people surged forward, pushing past snow and rubble, reaching for the massive machines. It made the Knights suddenly stop, afraid they would step on them as the crowd was let loose, swarming them like ants, wanting to touch them, wanting to hug the giant machines, weeping and shouting. From high above them, Tiburon saw a woman in a tattered poncho pressing her forehead against his Leviathan's plating, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, kissing the cold metal without a care in the world.

The city's remaining soldiers had already dropped their weapons, their discipline crumbling into stunned laughter. They hugged each other and anyone around them. Only a second later, everyone hugged the one next to them tighter than they ever had before, fingers digging into coats and skin as if to prove they were all still here—still alive. Nobles or not, it didn't matter anymore, not in what remained of Markoth.

After more than a decade of hardships... for this one night, they were once again truly alive.

They had survived the winter tides, every season being worse than the last. Farms were gone, villages wiped off the map, and entire regiments of soldiers devoured by the beasts festering and feasting on their once beautiful kingdom. Their hopes had been buried under the same snow that now covered the city for so long that even hope itself had become a distant memory.

But now? It was back. It was back to its fullest. And suddenly, standing at the front of it all was Edric Vaelor, their king.

He wore a heavy cloak, patched and torn at multiple places. Yet he put it on, along with his best clothes, a faded scepter, and the crown of Markoth on his head. At that moment, he was representing what remained of his country while telling the people to step away from the machines. It took some time, but to Veron's surprise, they listened, taking enough steps back so he wouldn't need to worry about squishing someone accidentally. He was about to say something, breaking out of his stupor, when he noticed the tears streaking down the king's cheeks freely, cutting tracks through the grime on it. When the citizens were far enough, still celebrating, Edric walked forward through the crowd, arms raised, signaling them to fall silent. And they did... watching him approach the four heroes of Markoth.

He did not stop until he stood directly before Valiant, like a tiny ant. Insignificant... just like his country was before the beasts. The mech towered over him, still droning faintly that he could now hear, its armor showing some dent and minor damage from the battle. But the king wasn't looking at those... he was looking at the only hope for his kingdom and for his people.

So the king of Markoth, Edric Vaelor, fell to his knees.

There was no hesitation in his movement. No pride. He long abandoned that. He never really knew what it meant... So, he pressed his palm into the snow and lowered his head to the ground before the Valiant, begging through clenched teeth, crying with desperation.

“Please,” his voice rang out, sobbing and begging, making Veron feel extremely awkward. "Please… don’t leave us.” He finally looked up, eyes locked with the mech’s glowing sensors built into its head unit. "We will give you anything—our oaths, our lives, our land. Markoth will become your vassal, your shield, your sword, whatever you demand—but just... stay. Stay and protect us!”

Hearing their king beg, the people suddenly sobered up from the initial joy. By now, tens of thousands stood in the streets of the city, waiting with their breaths held inside their lungs. When no answer came, one by one, everyone else dropped to their knees. Noble? Merchant? Blacksmith? Beggar? Didn't matter. Even the children knelt, the smallest ones being unsure of why they did it, only knowing that it felt right.

"Um... What should we do now?" Tiburon asked in their closed communication, which was only open to the mechs.

"That is a good question," Corinne mumbled, stunned by what she saw. "We are staying so..."

"But we can't promise them something that is up to our Sovereign," Veron spoke up finally, breaking out of his shock. "No way we can promise something long-term!"

"Well," Edrin mumbled, "We don't need to promise anything. We just need to tell them that we are staying to protect them this winter. Maybe we can send their king to Avalon. He can have a chat with the Sovereign, right? Then they can decide."

"Most likely." Veron muttered, thinking, "This is way above our jurisdiction."

He could feel its weight pressing on his shoulders, coming through the controls, through the comms, and through every breath he took inside the cockpit, watching the kneeling masses. Was... Was this what being a Knight of Avalon meant? He thought he knew it, but... Witnessing it happening, he realized he may only now have finally understood his oath.

“We can't deny them, not now,” Edrin’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “This is the first time they’ve truly believed they might live to see a better future. If we say no...”

"We won't say no," Corinne interrupted him. Her Shadow's right arm was still sluggish, and her own ribs ached from the impact, being rattled inside, but she barely noticed it now. Instead, she was watching one of the orphans she read stories to. She was no older than six, kneeling in the snow, out on the streets, bowing towards their machines just like the others, waiting for their response. Nobody dared to stand up, not the king, not his people.

Finally, Veron opened his comms again, speaking through the Valiant's speakers.

“People of Markoth, please rise,” he said, his voice reaching every part of the city. “We hear your plea.” He looked down at King Edric, still kneeling in the snow, and slowly raised the Valiant’s arm in salute, forming a fist and gently knocking the plating on its chest. “Although I can't promise you anything, as I am just a soldier, I can tell with certainty that Avalon will not abandon you. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been sent here. Our Sovereign will listen to your king. He will meet with him, and he will make his decision then. Know that Sovereign Leon of Avalon is a kind man. As long as you are willing and able, he will welcome you to be his ally.”

After hearing him speak, a new wave of cries rose into the air. Hope, full and unrestrained, burst from every person left alive to listen to his words. Amongst the renewed celebration, the Knight's Errand was also returning, Captain Kain's voice coming through the Knights' cockpits.

"No more came through. At least not towards the city, we think. Still, we followed the trail back to their Pass. It is busted wide open. There was a fortress-like structure there, similar to how it is back home, but it is gone. Reduced to rubble. Anything can come through at any time."

"How's the Pass itself?" Veron asked.

"Different than ours," the captain continued, smacking his lips. "From what we saw, it is a straight slope, about twenty-five degrees, heading straight into the mountains, and then it dips back down after around eight hundred meters. As for how it is after it, we didn't enter, so I don't have the data. But it looks as if it was made into a massive slide for the monsters."

"We will need to send a message back home as soon as possible." Veron sighed. "After we make the repairs, the Knight's Errant should head back to Avalon."

"No." General Oleg cut in at once, standing aboard the Knight’s Errand, refusing his idea flat-out. "Sorry, Knight Veron, that won't happen. I have my orders. We aren't leaving until the snow has melted."

"..." For a moment, Veron remained silent but then let out a long breath, "Understood, General.”

“Let's get to repairing.” The General continued, “With an open slip and slide like their Pass, we need to be ready for anything. The last thing we want for another bastard come tumbling down, straight into the city walls..."