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The Third Hour

  Commoners flooded the streets of Bastion, pushing and shoving as they ran for the evacuation point at the base of the rear wall. A woman fell, her leg caught in debris, and was trampled beneath the panicked mob. Gustav stopped halfway, saw the futility of pushing through, and slipped into a side alley. He thought of the bugs on the other side of the wall, crushing and tearing their fallen as they charged. But these people weren’t driven by bloodlust, just fear, and that made all the difference.

  Most of the bugs were cleared out, though that did little to calm the survivors. He passed the remnants of a brick house, toppled under the weight of an unusually large bug. The wooden beams gave in, collapsing the roof on whoever was inside. The collapse took the bug with it, trapping a couple of its legs under tons of rock. Immobilized, the thing just sat there until crossbowmen finished it off. It meant nothing to those crushed beneath its weight, but the kill triggered the For mankind! Buff and made the survivors feel a little less helpless.

  His impromptu base of operations, a quickly put together recruitment tent, awaited ahead. Taken aback by the large group of civilians waiting in line to enlist, Gustav stepped between the cement block barricades and approached the recruitment table. Two soldiers, a man and a woman in their early thirties, saluted as he entered the tent. On the other side of the table stood a scrawny kid, barely fifteen years old. A scabbarded sword hung from his belt, its weight dragging the boy down. The man cursed as Gustav’s screens flickered into view, locking onto the boy.

  Name: Thomas Mishikowski

  Class: Commoner, level 3 (max level, ready for promotion)

  Strength: 3 Dexterity: 3 Vitality: 2 Intelligence: 3

  “Sir, we can explain,” the woman began, but Gustav’s gaze cut her off.

  “Repeat my direct orders, soldiers.”

  “Recruit any and all able-bodied, sir!” they answered in unison.

  “And is this an able-bodied recruit?” he asked through gritted teeth, forcing himself not to make a scene. “Strength 3, vitality 2… that boy is barely fit to be a corpse, yet you strap a sword to his belt?!” The boy didn’t protest. He just stared at the ground, the scabbard of the useless sword resting on the concrete.

  “Get that thing off him,” Gustav ordered, turning to face the boy. “Son, what is your name?”

  “Thomas,” the boy mumbled, raising the wrong hand in salute. “Sir!”

  “At ease, soldier,” Gustav chuckled, crouching to level with the boy.

  “I will not ask where your parents are, Thomas. Nor will I apologize for saving your life. I can tell you want to help and that is fine, you wouldn’t be here otherwise with the rest of them.” He pointed at the line gathered a few meters away. “But I won’t be the captain whose men send you off to die when they should’ve known better. You understand that?”

  Thomas nodded, and the tears came. His stance softened as the woman removed the sword from his belt, struggling not to meet Gustav’s eyes.

  “If you still want to help, I have a mission for you.” Thomas looked at the two soldiers nodding in encouragement from the other side of the table. “I need someone to help maintain order at the evacuation tunnel. There are a lot of scared people out there, Thomas. Can you do that for me?”

  Thomas saluted. Wrong hand again, but nobody corrected him.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Make sure he gets there,” he ordered the man, handing off Thomas as he stood. “As for the rest of them, unless their stats are above 4 send them away. We gain nothing by throwing the dead at the enemy.”

  Reaching out for a water bottle, Gustav looked to the wall and the beacon of white light shining on top of it. Wishing he was there instead, he returned his eyes to the recruitment table and the lone soldier standing at the ready. His fight against The Fall was over, at least on the only front that mattered.

  “Anything else, soldier?”

  “A messenger passed, sir.”

  “What messenger?”

  “From the House of Nobles,” she explained. “They’re calling for help with the evacuation.” Clearing her throat, she added, “Their evacuation, sir.”

  “When was this?”

  She checked her clock. “Twenty minutes ago. Give or take.”

  Gustav stared at her.

  “Apologies, sir. Twenty minutes ago.”

  The tall towers of the House of Nobles loomed in the distance. It was the city’s political heart, where the ruling class debated tax hikes and budget cuts from behind armored glass. He was half-tempted to leave them. It was their budget cuts that had gutted the training programs and crippled the city’s defense.

  “You save everyone.” Maximilian’s words echoed in his mind. “Then you bury who you couldn’t.”

  “Keep the recruitment going,” he ordered, then ran for the towers.

  *

  He sensed the ground tremble just as the last turn came into view. A small quake, followed by another one, each barely a heartbeat apart.

  [Hostiles detected: none]

  An error. It had to be.

  Gustav unsheathed his sword and ran for cover. It could have been a bug they’d missed. The House did call for help after all. The tremors grew stronger as a colossal form emerged around the bend.

  An Argonaut.

  Covered in entrails and slime, the Argonaut walked ahead of a small group dressed in luxurious, colorful clothing. The House of Nobles found their escort, and the implication of it terrified him. He stepped out of the cover, sword sheathed once more, and approached the group with his arms at his side.

  “I’m Captain Gustav,” he said, eyeing the Argonaut as it paused. “My men received your messenger. I came as fast as I could.”

  “Fast?” snapped one of them, an old, hunched man in the twilight of his years. “We nearly died waiting. Is this what passes for defense in Bastion now?”

  “I defend Bastion, your excellency,” Gustav corrected him, locking eyes with the old man, whose features twitched as he glared back. “Same as that Argonaut should be. Where did you get him?”

  “We don’t need to explain ourselves,” a woman interjected, her blonde hair shaped in a harsh bowl cut. “The Argonauts exist to defend all of Bastion. We have simply acted accordingly.”

  “What do you mean?” Gustav’s stomach twisted. The realization hit all at once. “Where did you get that Argonaut from?!”

  The nobles remained silent, their eyes flicking between the captain and the iron giant.

  “Argonaut, I’m Captain Gustav, second in command to Commander Maximilian,” he said. The woman stepped forward to interrupt, but he pressed on. “What was your previous station, soldier?”

  “This one was deployed to defend the wall, sir,” the Argonaut replied, its voice deep and distorted by helmet filters.

  Gustav felt his knees buckle.

  “How many of you were left?” he asked, leaning against the wall. “How many before you were pulled away?”

  “Six,” the giant replied.

  Fourteen fell already.

  “We don’t have time for this,” the old man snapped. “The engineers are headed to the Summoning Tower. They’ll defend the city just fine. Now move.”

  “Did you know,” Gustav said slowly, emphasizing each word, “that there are six of them left?”

  “Their number hardly matters,” the same woman scoffed, ignoring the warning stares from the others. “The Argonauts are humanity’s best line of defense. They’ll hold. And if they don’t, well, there’s still Project Templar.” She slapped the Argonaut on the back. “Come on, the evacuation tunnel awaits.”

  Gustav wished he didn’t believe what he was hearing. These people didn’t deserve saving, not when better men and women had died on that wall just to buy the civilians seconds.

  “Argonaut.” The giant looked down at him, awaiting orders. “Return to the wall. I’ll take it from here.”

  The Argounaut watched in silence. Then, a metallic sound came from its helmet. “This one recognizes the authority of the House of War,” it said, saluting. Without another word, the Argonaut bolted for the wall.

  “What have you done, you inbred?!” shouted a small, round man, his face red with fury. “You’ve killed us all! Get that giant back here!”

  “The Argonaut belongs at the wall and...”

  Something exploded in the distance, drowning his protest in the thunder of the eruption.

  Red screens flared into existence, sirens blaring.

  Across every one, a single message looped, again and again.

  [WARNNING: THE WALL HAS BEEN BREACHED]

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