Old Man Time

*******************

Johnny Caldwell

After three hours of moving, the fastest I ever have ends, except for that one time I rode the Steam Train to Bent Fortress to reinforce it ten or so years ago, I exit deep water. And from there, my speed jumps yet again. I wouldn't say it reaches Darkstep's or Frederick's level of speed, but I am still proud of it.

The first proper jump in power ever since I got my Absolution. But it is never enough. More is always required from you. More is always needed. And sometimes, you simply don't have more to give. I've felt like that for a long time. Punch at a wall that simply wouldn't break, the Proof.

The Proof of a Wondrous individual simply requires one to prove themselves capable of either going beyond their limits regarding their Metaphors or capable of tossing it all away and restarting.

The Proof of an Angel? It is something far more devious. It is what truly separates those that can touch upon the feet of divinity and those that can only look up in awe. You have to prove to both yourself and the world itself that you are worthy. Worthy of the chance to step on the stairs of Godhood.

The Absolution is what fulfills the proof to the world and why one is needed to move forward. Proof to oneself is far more complicated. You need to believe yourself worthy. And I, frankly, do not see myself as worthy. To become a God, one must be perfect, flawless, and untarnished. Each of the Gods was perfect in their own way until they were corrupted.

I try to surround myself with those I find most perfect, most flawless, and with the most potential to cross that barrier. I do so both in the hopes they can aid me in my goal and so that I can try to emulate their acts. I fear letting them down. I fear someone like Wyatt or Earl not reaching their full potential. Wyatt for the capacity for war he has within him, and Earl for the crystal clear mind within the boy's head. I can feel it; both have the potential to change things should they be allowed to grow.

Which is precisely why I sent Primrose with Earl. That woman might be mischievous and daring, but deep down, there is no one I trust more. Not even Sacate. When the chips are down, and my hand is awful, she has been able to fix it when no one else could. The proof of her fighting with me again and again until she can no longer even open her eyes is enough for me to give her all the responsibility in the world. I know she can keep Earl safe.

But should I mess this up, I will never forgive myself. It will be just as bad as when I let Amelia down. No. It will likely be worse, at least for the world.

My feet only continue to carry me through this swamp at incredible speeds, going straight past any beasts or danger in the way as I head straight for Carnal Hiern. What is about to happen to that place is confirmation of what I've been worrying about. The second a Pillar dies in combat to a single invading demon is when everything goes to hell.

Territories will fall, and thousands, no tens of thousands, will die in simply a matter of weeks. The Nahullo have been wanting warmer territory for hundreds of years, but they are unwilling to fight the demons directly south. The Pygmies want our stores of iron, gunpowder, and other resources to aid their craftsmanship. The demons? They simply want to remove us from the world.

That is their order from the Mother Below, after all. And should this come to happen, we will need every man possible to fight and survive with. The Hunters out east will abandon us in the frontier, most likely. We will need someone like Wyatt, who can inspire bravery with his lack of fear and hold the line with his endurance, just as much as we will need someone like me to lead. No. We will need him more. Leaders can be replaced.

The heart of a people cannot.

And right now, we do not have one. But we need one. A strong, courageous, and limitless heart of the people to band us together. I am beginning to see what Edmund might have seen in him and why the old man refused to aid any kind of rebellion and instead stayed in that cabin in the woods in Tornridge. I know the Resistance in the east approached him, but he refused. I know from Wyatt that Edmund stayed in that forest for years. It's unclear if he stayed for Wyatt, but I reckon he did.

A Graves only comes every generation or two, and this one seems to be special.

Four months, four Sigils. From what I heard, he gained his first Sigil in November. It is now late February. That rate will for sure slow from now on, but it is simply unheard of. He is still lacking in many areas, but time and the books I got from Isaac can fix that.

I have zero doubt he can reach those high and mighty Angels if given the time to mature. An Angel of our own from the frontier? How about that? It's been a long, long time since one of those came to us. Most Pillars, even the ones that come to the frontier Territories of Bonedunes, Vallens, Sinscreak, and the former Tornridge, all come from the east after being given so much care and effort to help rise that far. But Wyatt? All he needs is time.

And I will give it to him. Any means necessary. These eyes of mine can only give him a few seconds. But these hands will give him much more.

*****************************************

Marshall "Unyielding Wall" Travis

I stand from my bed early in the morning and get ready within a single minute before leaving the small room that is mine. Unfurnished and unfinished is the way it's been for six decades, and it will never be any other way. Too much time and effort would be wasted to simply make it look pretty. I need none of that.

My bones creak as I move, however, which tells me that I am truly aging. For years I have fought in this fort and loved it as a child of mine. But it seems it may outlive me. As a lad, I built it with my own two hands, and I will be proud to see my child outgrow me.

After I get ready, fully suited just as for every war. Every day is a war for me, however. This year, it is both the Pygmies and demons who knock on my door and threaten me and mine. I tighten the cuffs on my suit and step out of the room, where my aide, Tomas, is already standing. His back is straight, and his face is young despite the strength hidden within those muscles of his. I allow none but the most powerful near me. Tomas is the best of his generation here at Bent. 6th Sigil at twenty-five. Remarkable.

I just hope he lives long enough to take my place. These weary bones only have a few more years left. I am unlike the others who can live beyond a hundred with the boon of life from their Sigils. My scars take away much of that additional time. Old wounds plague me every day. Yet I am the wall. The name I have built for myself gives me just as much strength as my own will does.

I nod at Tomas as I walk past, a small limp in my leg that is omnipresent when I'm not using Ether. That one came from an elder Urayuli that Corminu brought from deep within the wilds a decade ago. Both the giant and the demon are buried beneath the walls of Bent.

"Good morning, sir!"

Tomas follows me as I walk my usual rounds. I investigate all those that are working before slowly making my way to the high walls of Bent to overlook the surroundings. The whole while, Tomas speaks to me, relaying information from the rest of the Territories that have just now reached us. He always tells me the stuff that leans toward the Resistance first. I might not be able to help much, if at all, but I still want to know how it's going.

"The Bloodbeast escaped capture just barely after reportedly losing every limb save for his head. It is said he is now leading the Resistance within Onyx Gate, currently vying with Myriad for the direction it should go. Darkstep has returned from her hunt of the Gunfighter unsuccessful and now seems to be on some kind of search. The Blight Raven has been challenged by the Council to a battle in a month."

Each of the points is a shock, things that do not normally occur all at once. Edward Dudley escaping execution? I am glad for it. The man does not deserve it. I know that they framed him, but there is nothing I can do all the way out here. I can only watch from the frontier as the heartlands fall apart to depravity. The Watchmen have almost disappeared entirely over the past three decades, their duties being taken by the Hunters more and more as the former Watchmen are removed from power.

Somedays, I think it might be better to just let the fortress fall and go to fix everything myself. But that is a naive thought. I am strong, yes, but Vincent Harvey is a man of supreme strength. He could put me down in a matter of minutes. The Prime holds no punches, even if he refuses to fix anything besides his own aging. That's not to even mention the untold death that would occur in Vallens should I leave my post. This whole Territory exists simply because I, the Unyielding Wall, refuse to fall, retreat, or surrender regardless of the odds.

The news about Darkstep is also a shock. That old lady is skilled, yet a mystery to even me. I am confident I could defeat her, but the fact the Gunfighter got away from her is surprising. As far as I know, that man isn't too special in any category except for the fact he is from the frontier and willing to fight for it.

I hope he is doing well.

The last piece of news, however, is the most layered. The Nahullo Council challenging Howard in Starkbluffs? That's bad news. Are the Nahullo finally making a move? They've been quiet since Ed Summers fought them out of Green Hallows. But it is odd for them to move first… Something must be up. But what? A month away is the challenge, and the Council never takes no for an answer.

Should Howard Strafe not show up, feathers of blight and all, they will come to him in his city upon the cliffs, Palecrag. Depending on how many council members show up, Howard might even fall from the sky. I think he can handle two, maybe three; he is the best escape artist in the frontier, after all. But if four of the two dozen show up, especially the Warmaster, the man is as good as dead. Each council member is a 7th Sigil, with the Warmaster an 8th, near 9th, that wields a passed down 9th Sigil Arca, the Pale Cavity. And I doubt the Bados will step in to help, the thunderbirdmen preferring to stay neutral ever since they've been brought from a main race capable of fighting humans toe-to-toe to hiding within those spires of Starkbluffs for safety.

I can smell it. A change is coming. A big one.

My knees creak as I walk up the steps to the wall. I've barely paid attention during my inspection, but I trust my men. They know what to do to keep the cannons ready, the guns loaded, and the weapons prepared. They know to keep the bricks repaired and the foundation stable. It is only routine that keeps me checking on them.

Tomas has kept talking, but I've zoned him out, only paying partial attention to the miscellaneous news. Breathing slightly heavily, I reach the top of the great Bent Fortress wall. A thing made of steel, brick, wood, and concrete that spans a half mile and is almost twenty feet thick. Several parts are damaged from yesterday, but repairs are being made.

As I look out from atop the fortress walls, I can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer size and strength of the structure beneath me every time I view it. The walls are made of massive stone blocks, towering high above the ground and reinforced with sturdy wooden beams. The battlements are lined with marksmen, ready to defend the fortress against any attackers. Ropes for our melee combatants line the battlements. When one gets injured or tired, they are pulled back up by a team of Unsigiled. Unsigiled are disallowed to fight and can only help until they have been here a year.

The fortress itself is a maze of corridors, staircases, and chambers, all designed to be as defensible as possible. The walls are thick, the doors heavy and reinforced with iron, and the windows small and narrow to make them difficult to climb through. The courtyard below is spacious enough to accommodate an entire army, and I can see soldiers milling about, preparing themselves for the coming battle.

I stand atop the fortress wall, gazing out at the enemy army below. As far as the eye can see, the stone structures of the Pygmies and their Architects, of which they brought six to meet little old me, have come to reflect the light of the early morning sun, their buildings glinting in the sunlight. The sound of their stone machinery moved entirely by Ether echoes across the valley, a constant reminder of the coming battle.

The Pygmies excel in creation, but only with Ether. They cannot hold a candle to humanity's ingenuity with the natural world, and they do their best to take any of our advancements like gunpowder or firearms. They commonly improve on what we make, like their Armaments, Colts, and Claymores put into a suit of armor or large constructs of stone, but without us, they would never have such things.

Despite the overwhelming odds, I feel a sense of duty and pride welling up inside me. Tomas and the other soldiers have always looked to me for guidance, and I cannot let them down. I know that the enemy is strong, but we are stronger. I have held this place for all my life, and that fact will not change.

There is just one thing. These Pygmies have only stayed at a distance for the past week, never actually attacking Bent, just sending small parties to harass us. I do not know what they are doing, but my instincts tell me it has something to do with the challenge against Howard. Is something similar happening to Clarence in the Bondunes? It's possible, but I know Bonedunes repelled a recent large demonic attack. Kai maybe? Hmm. That's possible too.

The youngest Pillar is a bit inexperienced compared to the rest of us, but by no means is he weak. Kai grew up dissimilar to most Estate children. Instead of being fed a vast amount of knowledge and experience by teachers so that he was powerful, his father, Horace Vinson, sent the young man here to fight. I would never refuse aid, and the little Kai spent his teenage years here until he matured enough to gain a Sigil. There is a reason why he is in possession of Sinscreak, the Territory closest to the Bent fortress inside Vallens.

I find it unlikely for him to be attacked or challenged. If anything, he would be the last to be attacked for his combat strength. But perhaps that could be the point. Kai has the potential to become a Virtue. Maybe… that is the goal. To stop humanity from gaining a fourth Virtue.

But to do that, a very powerful agent would have to be deployed. One strong enough to be both undetected while traversing the frontier and capable of felling the Rougarou Hunter. No demons in the Borderlands come to mind that could achieve that. In the Badlands, sure, at least a dozen exist, but surely Eli would have sensed them if they were coming. Unless… No. If that were to happen, it wouldn't matter.

Don't consider it, Marshall. Focus on your duty. Watch the Pygmies. Bent is the wall to the Wilds. Should you fall, hundreds of thousands will die. Bent and the greater Vallens are a hinge. Should we crumple, it all will.

My attention goes outward as I watch as the Pygmy army shuffles in movement, raising more and more structures. I can see up to five miles away as if it was in front of me with 10000 Yard Stare. My body is aging, but my Ether only continues to reach a peak. Another Dzil seems to be approaching. I wonder if I will reach it before my death.

Painsforge is something I have spent years accomplishing, and I am still perfecting it even now. Many call it the pinnacle of bodily Ether, but I do not think so. There is always room for improvement. Though, I cannot say I am not proud of the skill I made. It is more me than my Power, Steelworks, is. The former gives me strength, speed, and endurance for the more pain I endure, while the latter turns my whole body into cold steel.

The image of a badly wounded man standing to fight some more is the Unyielding Wall to a tee, and I refuse to ever let that image down. As such, I spend most of my time perfecting that skill and Cannonball, the method I use to throw cannonballs as fast as they can be shot out from a cannon.

I take a deep breath as pain spikes from my hip, forcing me to steady myself on the battlement. Age is tearing into me like a ravenous beast, my wounds coming up nonstop. Tomas, concerned, speaks to me.

"Are you okay, sir? Do you need a break? I can go get you a seat or something."

The respect and care in his voice are obvious, but I do not need it. I turn to exhale a fragile breath as I look him in the eyes.

"I am fine. Just a bit tired, is all. I will stand here until these Pygmies attack or leave. We cannot afford for me to be anywhere else but right here. I can handle some pain. My Ether must be conserved for fighting and fighting only."

Tomas hesitates for a moment as he looks away at my gaze, but his pupils turn back and meet mine after he gathers his will. The Cub, no, he is a wolf now. The Wolf is baring his teeth. I smile at the courage he has. Only other Pillars are willing to look me in the eye. Tomas the Wolf will not let me down. I have taught him well if he is willing to challenge me.

"That may be the case, sir. But you are getting old. Today you woke up at 7:45 A.M. A year ago, you woke up at 7:30. A year before that, 7:15. Five years ago, you woke up at 5 every morning. Ten was 3. You simply can't keep it up as you used to. You are sleeping longer and fighting less and less. Taking longer to recover for less power."

I nod to him. I know. I know better than anyone. There is not a man in the world more in tune with their body than I am with mine. Not a single muscle or tendon works without me being acutely aware. Not a single scar exists without my encyclopedic knowledge of it.

I step away from him and place my hands on the cold battlements, the rough stone meeting my far harsher hands. I watch the Pygmies moving in their encampments just out of sight of a telescope.

"That is true. But I do not need to, Cub. My time waned long ago. It will soon be your time. I merely have to hold on a bit longer. This war will be my last. I can feel it in my bones."

A tremble comes from the Wolf's voice as he replies to me and steps a bit closer, him ignoring the nickname he oh so hates.

"Sir, what do you mean? I know there is chaos in the east and that people are unsatisfied, but—"

I cut him off. He is in denial. It's understandable. He might have spent most of his life fighting, but the Wolf has always lived in order. My order. He does not know how to embrace chaos. And that is exactly what is coming.

"Architects are building. The Council is scheming. The Lords are left wanting. Even the beasts are ravenous. Normally they war against each other in some fashion, leaving us only having to fight one at a time and able to pick up the scraps. But this time, it is different, Tomas. We've aged, our bodies weakening, and too few have risen to replace us. They are coming for our heads. Mine, Clarence, and Howard's. Probably Ed's too. Possibly Kai's. I'd even say they'd be after Maddox, but you'd have to be braindead to invade that man on his waters. Chaos is coming, and as we are now, we are too weak to face it. One does not need to be Eli Wiess to see that there likely will be half as many Territories in just a year or so."

I turn and look him in the eyes. The tall man shrinks a bit before my severity. Not quite there yet, it seems. But he will be.

"From here on out, you are no longer my aide. Your only orders are to grow. Fight, learn, and evolve, my Cub. Show me what your teeth and claws can do in this war. Let me die knowing the future is in good hands."

Tomas stands straight against my words and bares his teeth to try and prove himself to me. They are sharp and show just how powerful they are, capable of ripping out flesh and bone just as his claws are. I hand-picked the Sigils for him to take to fit his personality, and he did not let me down one bit. The child I found years ago among wolves has grown into a fine young man, one both proud enough and strong enough to lead a pack.

The Adamant Amarok.

But there are more than just a few he needs to protect. I can see him rising to meet Vincent's eyes; so young and so powerful he is. All he needs is time. I will give it to him. No matter what comes, I will hold this fort. It is what I have always done, and it is what I will always do. Even if the Pygmy's Creator comes, I will send him home upon their stone coffins. None will take me from this world except time. He is the only thing I will ever relent to, for all do. Even Gods.