A young man stood atop a wall stretching from past his view on either side, looking out across the dark lands beyond. The storm, buffeting him with wild winds and rough rain, did little to discourage him as the occasional bolt of lightning illuminated the land. He slightly snuggled back into his hood, feeling the rain pelt off of it and splatter to the black stone wall. Leaning forward slightly and resting his hands on the wall, he inspected the darkness.

A small hand pulled at the hem of his shirt, drawing his attention to a girl at his side. She was far younger than him, barely into her seventh year, and yet had similar facial features peeking out from her hood. “B-big brother, can we go back now?”

The man sighed, feeling the coolness of the air one last time before turning around with a playful smile. He was taken aback for a moment, the blinding light of the city behind the wall destroying his eyesight in mere seconds. Eventually, he adjusted to the lights of the countless lanterns and focused on her. “Of course, sis.” He smiled at her and then held his hand out to her.

She took it, and the two began to walk down the wide wall to the nearest lift landing. He could just take the stairs, but his sister wouldn’t be able to make the twenty flights of stairs to get down to the ground floor. He could barely manage that much after all and he moved his body for a living. They walked along the walls, him occasionally nodding at patroling legionary as she ducked behind him.

All of them were in uniform, simple black clothing reminiscent of trench coats with metal armor covering all the important bits. The standard uniform of the legion, the primary military force of the Empire of Dawn. Each of the guards held rifles loosely as they moved about their stations. Most were the same kind of rifle he had back at home, a bolt rifle called the Kar98, though there were others he didn't recognize in the darkness of the storm. Several of the soldiers nodded back upon seeing the yellow cross dangling from his neck.

It took no time at all before they entered a watchtower that stood out from the others. It was several times larger and reached further into the sky. Inside was the usual affairs of a small resting space and armory under the watchful eye of the tower keeper. The tower keeper himself was a familiar face. He was a man with a full black beard and a kindly smile etched into his stoney face. Muscles, far more than normal legionnaires, stretched his uniform to the point it might tear.

His uniform was similar to the rest of the legionnaires, and yet it was far nicer with bits of silver accenting it. His armor was also different, made from a slightly lighter material than the others. By far the largest difference sat atop his arms. He wore two golden gauntlets that had been polished to a sheen. Although a normal civilian might not notice, the young man felt a slight disturbance, almost like a faint pressure on his skin, from the gauntlets as if they radiated with power. The young man wasn’t too surprised to see the relics, as it was only to be expected of an officer to bear at least one.

“Ah, Verlon! Finished sightseeing with the little miss?” The decanus asked with a warm smile, contrasting the cool breeze cutting through the tower.

The young man felt his arm tug slightly as his sister hid behind him once more. “It would seem so, sir. Though I see it up close often, I am still astounded each time I mount the stalwart walls of the empire. Their scale truly is impressive.”

The muscle-bound man nodded, his bushy beard compressing into his chest plate with each motion in a way that caused the little girl to giggle. A smile came to his lips as he spoke, “That it is. I’m impressed every day by the ingenuity of our ancestors. To think, they made the wall around the entire empire while under constant threat of the miasmic abominations.”

Verlon glanced down at his sister, a smile coming to his face as she peaked her head around him to look at the gruff legionnaire. “Well, it's best we get going. It is getting quite late, after all, and we still haven't eaten.”

“Right.” The decanus walked with the duo towards a giant pit on the far side of the tower. A metal staircase wrapped all the way around the pit, going twenty floors down. The middle was covered by a cargo lift and two smaller personnel lifts. “I’m not on gate duty, kid. If I miss you heading out into Endenheim, good luck.”

Verlong led his sister to one of the smaller platforms and made sure she didn’t get too close to the edges, not that she would. She was a smart cookie, definitely inheriting from their mom. He saluted the man, raising his fist to his heart and thumping it thrice. “Thank you, sir. Have a good night.” He then pressed a button on a small control board near the entrance of the lift as the man returned to his station.

The ride down was as pleasant as usual. His sister clung to him tightly, tensing up with every groan of metal and shake of the lift. The mechanism was quite old, so its haunting noises were unfortunately frequent. At the very least, it wasn’t dark thanks to the gas lanterns placed at every landing. The pipework was almost like an entirely different staircase as it twisted and writhed around the walls of the tower just below the metal steps. They looked like the had been an afterthought, which they probably were considering how old the wall was. The pipework was a mess, of which there was no doubt, however stating such a thing was just asking for a mechanus to kill him in his sleep.

They reached the ground floor, his sister letting out a breath of relief and leading him out of the tower. Verlon smiled to himself as he followed her, happy she was taking the initiative. Usually, she would stick strictly behind him, so it was nice to have a change in pace. Literally in this sense. Unfortunately, the occasion was short-lived as they arrived at the legion's checkpoint.

Once through the checkpoint - which he easily slid through since he was a yellow cross seeker- they walked out into their hometown, Preshen. The nearby buildings - the shortest of which sat at two stories - along with the Rhinegard Wall provided welcome relief from the stormy weather as they walked down the well-lit streets. Few were out in the rain, and even fewer drove carriages down the soaked road. Their path was clear, lit by the gas-powered street lights connected through an intricate network of pipes strung along the buildings and below ground. The sight of the chaotic mesh of metal would've hurt his eyes if he hadn't grown used to it by now.

In no time, they arrived at a small garment shop, one among the many throughout the city. Verlon unlocked the door the two headed through the shop and up into the third story. A small hallway with four doors met them, the tiled floor reflecting gentle bronze light as the near-constant hum of pipework and flowing gas provided a gentle ambiance. They quietly made their way to the last door on the right, careful to avoid the cracked tiles, and entered their apartment.

The place was quite open concept, with the small kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one space. The small bedroom where both of them slept sat on the far side of the open space. Their bathroom sat just next to it, separated by a mess of pipes leading into the rough and along the wall. On the closer side was a single large room that acted as Verlon’s office.

Once the door was closed, Verlon hit the two deadbolts and slapped the chain onto its hook. Then he helped his sister out of her rain jacket and hung it up on the rack just above her reach. “Are you hungry, Robin?”

“A little.” She said and sat down at the small dinner table, dripping the occasional drop as she went.

He sighed as he walked into the kitchen and to the gas meter on the wall. Looking at the rickety machinery became a habit after the first time he accidentally overdrafted and had to pay a sizable fee. He still had more than enough to make it through the rest of the week, so he made his way to the pantry and began to cook a simple stew.

“A-are you leaving tomorrow?” Robin asked as she watched him cook, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Verlon’s shoulders tensed up slightly at the question. He remained silent for a moment as he added some dried plants to the broth. Not quite spices, but the best he could do considering their position. “Uh… yeah. Nicole said she would take care of you while I’m gone. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright?” He looked over his shoulder only to see her downcast face covered by her hair as she looked towards the floor.

“Promise?” Her voice was barely a whisper, weak beyond imagination.

He sighed and adjusted a few things on the stove before heading to his sister. He gently wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah, I promise. I took a contract for some light scouting, so it shouldn’t take more than two weeks. I'll be back before you know it.”

She tried to hug him back, her arms barely reaching around his sides as she pressed her face into his chest like a sad cat. “I believe you, big brother.”

He released the hug and returned to the stove, finishing up the light stew as he looked at a picture on the wall. A young boy was broadly smiling - several of his teeth missing - as his father ruffled his hair. Next to the father was a beautiful woman cradling an infant child with a warm smile. He looked at the picture for a moment longer before dishing out the stew and taking it to his sister.

The meal was short and silent, a comfortable quiet as they both relaxed in the flickering lantern light. The soft patter of rain on the roof and rumble of the pipes was a soothing melody as they were both lost in their own thoughts. They soon finished up and headed off to bed.

Verlon woke in the middle of the night shaking slightly as adrenaline faded from his system. He took a moment to breathe in the chilly air and calm down before shifting out of bed. A cloth tarp separated the room. Across the room, his sister was sound asleep, her faint shadow illuminated by the slanted window cutting into the room. The rain had stopped at some point, though he didn’t think it had been too long since the window pane still had drops on it.

As quietly as he could, he snuck out the bedroom door. He froze for a moment as his sister shifted in her sleep before exiting the room and grabbing a drink of water. Then he walked to his office and unlocked the door with a key he always kept.

His office, if you could even call it that, was a mess. Tall bookshelves covered a wall, absolutely full of books. A few piles of books that couldn’t fit the shelves sat here and there around the room along with several unopened boxes. Two tables took up the majority of the space, one smothered in ancient-looking pieces of relics and gear. The other had its fair share of charcoal rubbings, ancient scrolls, and depictions of long-forgotten languages. Dirt and various debris covered the floor from where he had carelessly tracked it into the room after returning from an expedition.

He made his way past the ancient relics and to his desk off in the corner of the room. This spot was far more organized and covered in a large map of the empire. A dozen books were stacked up in a couple of spots, though nowhere near the amount as elsewhere. Other smaller maps covered the large one, though he could still make up the basic layout of the empire.

The Empire of Dawn, as it was formally named, wrapped around a large mountain range called the Iron Mountains. The Rhinegard wall surrounded the entirety of the empire, safely protecting the citizens from what lurked beyond the empire’s domain. The area outside the Rhinegard wasn’t marked on this particular map, but monstrous figures and fallen ruins were sketched out everywhere.

Verlon rubbed his eyes, feeling the slight bags with a frown. He turned away from his desk and walked over to his Seeker gear, checking over it one last time. He would depart in a while, and it was better to make sure it was all good now than later.

His armor, dented in several places even though he managed to repair it for the most part, sat on a mannequin not far from his desk. The armor wasn’t anything fancy, only slightly less protective than the legionnaire’s, and a tad darker in hue. It consisted of a chest plate that only covered the top of his chest, bracers, and greaves.

Off to the side of the mannequin, hanging on the wall from a rack, sat his weapons. A couple of Kar98 rifles, the most common firearm in the empire since Karestein Armory created them in 498 AC, were lined up on the rack along with his revolver. Ammo sat not far from it, though not near as much as he would've liked, some already preloaded into stripper clips.

On the opposite side of the mannequin was another rack, though this one held cold weaponry. A simple shortsword chipped with use and a dozen knives still holding the silvery hue of the grindstone hung from the metal rack. He would much rather prefer using firearms, but the simple effectiveness of a sword couldn’t be denied, especially when an enemy closed the gap.

And his final piece of equipment, the one he was most proud of, sat just below the mannequin. Two black boots, seemingly woven out of metal threads, rested unassumingly. Three green-yellow glowing dots sat along their rim. They were a bitch and a half to get, but he had never regretted delving into that ruin since he got them. The boots looked like regular combat boots, for the most part. The difference lay in their origin.

The boots were a relic, an ancient device from a long-lost civilization, and could shoot out a burst of compressed steam three times a day. This allowed him not only to jump quite high but more importantly let him dodge much farther than he could on his own. This relic had single-handedly saved his life a dozen times and propelled him from an orange cross all the way to a yellow in a short span of time.

The empire claimed that relics weren't magic; that they were simply highly advanced pieces of technology. Verlon wasn't quite so sure. After all, if the ancient technology was so advanced it seemed like magic, why not just call it magic? He had always figured it probably had to do with some kind of political crap.

He turned on a nearby gas lamp and sat at his desk. He shuffled through various papers, research notes, and yellowed maps as he filled out paperwork under the flickering gaze of the lamp. Occasionally he would break up the monotony and write in a journal as he passed time away.