The sunlight cast golden rays gently through the canopy as Leonhart descended the forest path. He moved silently, the Iron Saint trailing behind him in a cloaked, lowered stance-its imposing frame concealed beneath layers of worn fabric and dust-covered leather.
Far ahead, smoke clouds rose upward from the village. As they got closer to the village ringing of bells could be heard once, then again—low and mellow, signalling the start of the morning prayer.
Harthvale.
It was a modest village. Mud-packed roads, wooden houses with moss-covered roofs and a large stone well at the central point of the village where villagers gathered. Wind chimes made of bone and prayer beads swung in the breeze creating a smooth calming hymn. A large statue of Solvane, the sun god, made of stone, stood in the square, arms raised to the heavens.
Leonhart paused at the tree, eyes narrowing.
[Environmental Scan: Complete.]
[Population: 712 | Arcane Practitioners: 5 | Hostile Presence: None]
[Faith Intensity: Moderate | Mechanical Knowledge: 0.1%]
[Suitable for Observation.]
"Keep proper distance," Leonhart said to the Iron Saint. "Observe for now, but don't engage. If they see you-"
"They will panic," the knight finished.
With the massive build of the Iron Saint it was sure to garner attention.
Leonhart nodded once, then stepped onto the road that led towards the village, alone.
Some children playing around were the first to spot him.
A small boy with a stick in his hand mimicking a sword blinked at Leonhart's looking curiously at his long white coat and expressionless gaze. His mechanical arm remained hidden beneath thick cloth wraps. He didn't look like a soldier, nor a traveller. More like a ruined noble who has lost his way towards home.
A few villagers turned to stare surprised by his appearance. Whispers followed.
"Who is that stranger?" "An outsider?" "Might be one of the northern pilgrims."
He reached the well and quietly took a ladle of water. Heads turned following his every action. One woman among the villagers made the sun-marked gesture of warding.
Then, a voice broke the silence.
"You don't look like you are from the temple roads."
Leonhart turned towards the voice.
A man with greying hair and sharp eyes approached, walking with a carved cane, its base making a ticking sound as it tapped the ground underneath. He wore priestly white robes, but unlike the golden ornamentation of the theocracies, his were simple, worn by use and need rather than pride.
"The names Arel Thorne," the man introduced. "I'm the elder of this village. And you are?"
Leonhart's words were calm his expression unchanging. "A traveller on a journey seeking knowledge. Not favour."
Arel studied him. "Strange thing to seek in these lands. Most want either blessings or bread."
"I require neither," Leonhart replied.
The old man's eyes narrowed—but he said nothing. Instead, he gestured with his cane. "Then walk with me. I don't know about what knowledge you seek of but if you are peaceful, you'll find peace here."
They walked towards the village together. Leonhart asked simple questions—about the seasons, the gods and the local crops. With every answer from the village elder, he listened deeper.
[Faith Structure: Identified – Sunborn Cycle]
[Village Worship Model: Generational Passive Devotion]
[Mana Source: Minor convergence node beneath shrine]
[Information Assimilated: +3%]
[Progress: Faith Analysis Engine: 12%]
As they walked together side by side, Arel eventually led him to the shrine, where offerings of sunroot and glass flowers sat beneath the feet of Solvane's statue.
"You don't kneel," Arel said mildly, looking at Leonhart.
"I don't kneel to gods built by men," Leonhart replied.
Arel didn't answer. But he didn't look angry either.
Before more could be said, shouting erupted from the west gate.
"Bandits! From the hills! They've crossed the wards!"
Screams of men and women alike followed the shouts.
Leonhart's eyes sharpened. "How fast can they breach the centre?"
"Ten minutes if the guards hold," Arel replied, a deep sigh followed.
"They won't," Leonhart said with his still expressionless face.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back the way he came—into the woods, leaving Arel stunned by his reply.
Within moments, he reached the Iron Saint.
"Authorisation: Deploy," Leonhart said.
[Command Accepted.]
[Unit Status: Combat Mode.]
[Tactical Interface Engaged.]
"Target: Bandits entering from the western pass. Use of lethal force permitted. Do not harm the villagers. Move."
The Iron Saint gave a short nod, its hulking body strangely vanishing into the trees like a ghost of steel.
Back at the gates, villagers scrambled to hold the broken barricade. Five of the armed raiders had pushed through the barricades, two of them already injured from the scuffle, their face filled with rage.
A young temple guard—Rett Corven—stood protectively in front of a group of children, his hands holding a shield cracked from blocking and blood dripping from his arm. His breath heavy. Still, he prayed in his heart in hopes that some miracle might appear from the gods to save him, to save the people who stood behind him, to save his village.
But his prayers remained unanswered.
He braced for death, fear absent on his face now instead filled with resolve.
Then, suddenly a giant shadow dropped from the trees. A heavy thud sounded and the ground vibrated a little.
A burst of compressed steam howled and whistled-and in an instant the first bandit was bisected clean through the torso, his two halves dropping to the gound with a thud.
The Iron Saint moved like flowing iron, its blade arm cleaving through everything that stood in its way, banner raised high like a war sigil from another age. Its metal feet crushed the stone beneath. Its visor glowed with blue flame.
One after another it cleaved through the remaining bandits like a god of death not giving them even a moment to realise what had just happened.
After instantly clearing the five bandits that had managed to break through the barricades it began scanning for the remaining threats finding some lingering bandits outside the defence line still clamouring.
Its body vibrated and inner mechanisms clinked as once again it moved like a ghost reaping the lives of the remaining bandits, guts and gore spilling behind its wake.
The battle ended in just twelve seconds.
None of the villagers spoke, too stunned to even register what had just happened.
Leonhart arrived moments later.
Finally regaining his bearings, Rett staring at him spoke, his voice shaking. "You sent… that?" pointing towards the Iron Saint, hands trembling.
"Yes," Leonhart said.
The villagers gathered in stunned silence. Arel stared at the Iron Saint in awe.
"What… what is this?"
Leonhart stepped forward, voice steady, but laced with quiet command.
"This is not magic. This is not divinity. This is what comes when people believe in each other instead of gods. When people believe in duty. In logic. In unity."
He turned to the villagers. His voice commanding.
"You've prayed long enough. You've bled alone long enough. The gods watched you suffer never answering your calls. Farming your faith and herding you people like livestock easily discarded after they used you."
He placed his hand on the Iron Saint's shoulder.
"I protected you. Commanded, not begged. If you would serve something real instead of these false gods-stand behind me."
Silence. The villagers hesitated, unsure of what to do. On one hand, they knew his words were true; they had prayed for so long but still their gods never helped them. But still, abandoning the faith they had maintained for so long still brought unease in the hearts of the villagers.
Then, among the uncertainty of the villagers-Rett stepped forward, shocking the rest.
"I will."
[Loyalty Bond Established: 1 Human Follower]
[Servitude Matrix: 1%]
[Faith Conversion: +0.02%]
[Unit Upgrade Available: Human Integration Protocol]
A new sound echoed in Leonhart's mind. The sound of gears turning.
He had given his first command.
And it had been answered.