The Reawakening Of the Clockwork Soverign

The morning sunlight cast warm, golden rays, illuminating the way ahead gently through the canopy as Leonhart descended the forest path. The light almost acted like a guide that showed Leonhart his path towards his first task.

The forest seemed full of life as birds chirped occasionally and insects hummed. The vibrant green and lush trees with thick trunks that seemed to have endured the harsh ages. The faint rustle of dead and dried leaves as critters scattered by brought a serene sense of peace in this world of suffering.

He moved silently through the forest as if he didn't want to disturb this moment of peace. The Iron Saint trailed behind him, donning a cloak with a lowered stance-its imposing frame concealed beneath layers of worn fabric and dust-covered leather.

Far ahead, smoke clouds were rising at the centre of a village, probably from a campfire. Wooden walls surrounded the village, a primitive way of protection; the Iron Saint could easily destroy the whole village alone if needed. Along the walls were a couple of shabby watch towers to look out for any incoming threats.

The whole village's vibe screamed primitive with no signs of any kind of advanced technology in sight.

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 that provided ample insulation during the harsh winters. A large stone well at the central point of the village, where villagers gathered not just for water but for conversations and the occasional discussions.

Wind chimes made of animal bones and prayer beads swung in the breeze creating a smooth, calming hymn that seemed to flow along with the wind.

A large statue of Solvane, the god of the sun, also known commonly as the DawnFather, made of stone, stood in the square, arms raised to the heavens.

Leonhart paused at the tree line, eyes narrowing.

The system's sound rang out:

[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. "Let's just 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 and its otherworldly appearance, it was sure to garner attention.

Leonhart nodded once, then stepped onto the dirt road that led towards the village, alone.

He constantly scanned the surroundings, taking in the view of the surroundings and the village, a deep sense of nostalgia washed over him.

"When was the last time I saw such primitive building methods?, This feeling of just pure nature, this gentle warmth and the earthiness in the air that now fills my lungs. How long has it been since I was able to feel this?" he thought in his head.

For as long as he could remember, his empire of steel was like a gleaming titan of iron, steel and concrete, a stark contrast to the village ahead of him. The machines did all the works and functions holding the infrastructure strong leaving the people with plenty of idle time to innovate and bring up ideas and visions to work on.

Reminicing the old days Leonhart reached near the village.

Some children playing around in the dirt roads were the first to spot him.

A small boy with a stick in his hand mimicking a knight with a sword blinked at Leonhart. They 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 or a scholar oh his path to look for answers.

A few villagers turned to stare towards Leonhart, surprised by his unique appearance. Whispers followed as they began discussing his origins and purpose.

"Who is that stranger?" "An outsider?" "Might be one of the northern pilgrims."

Leonhart reached the well and quietly took a ladle of water, his eyes reflecting the clarity of the water on the ladle.

Heads turned as they followed his every action. One woman among the villagers made the sun-marked gesture of warding hoping it would protect them if the outsider was evil.

Then, among the hush whispers an old and calm voice filled with the wisdom brought by age 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 who might you be stranger?"

Leonhart's words were calm, his expression unchanging. "A traveller on a journey seeking knowledge and answers. Someone who seeks not favour or offerings."

Arel studied him. "Strange thing to seek in these forsaken lands. Most who come here want either blessings or bread for their journey."

"I require neither," Leonhart replied.

The old man's eyes narrowed, seemingly deciding whether to trust him or not ultimately deciding to say nothing. Instead, he gestured with his cane. "Then come, walk with me. I don't know about what knowledge you seek of or what answers you might seek but if you seek peace in these wartorn lands, you might find some faint trace of peace here."

They walked towards the village together. Leonhart asked simple questions along the way-about the seasons, the gods and the local crops and many more. 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 of the DawnFather, where offerings of sunroot and glass flowers found plentiful around the village sat beneath the feet of Solvane's statue.

"You don't kneel to the DawnFather?" Arel said mildly, looking at Leonhart just standing there observing the statue.

"I don't kneel to gods built by men," Leonhart replied.

Arel didn't say anything partly because he was surprised by his answer. But he didn't question his ideals and he didn't look angry by his answer either.

Before more could be said, sudden shouting erupted from the west gate.

"Bandits! From the hills! They've crossed the wards!"

Screams of men and women alike followed the shouts alerting every villager of the incoming dangers. The women scrambled to lead the children towards the inner houses away form the walls where the battle would probably happen.

Leonhart's eyes sharpened. "How fast can they breach the walls and the blockades?"

"Ten minutes if the guards hold," Arel replied, a deep sigh followed. "These bandits living in the surrounding forests are mainly a mix bunch of clerics and paladins who have abandoned their faith in their gods and are now treated as outcasts. Though unlikely, there might be some outcast mages from the Arcane Crucible within their ranks."

"Why are they gathering here of all places?"

"This are our village is in has the least influence by the surrounding kingdoms. This is pretty much a lawless zone currently. Since this area borders on the edge of all the surrounding major factions no one can solidify their command here, so all of them just observe without any action in fear of the other kingdoms' retaliation." 

"Though the main reason may be due to the supposed war that took place here ages ago." Arel said, sighing.

"War?", "War among whom?" Leonhart asked, intrigued.

"Not many people know of this, as I am unsure of it too. My father and his great-grandfather before him used to say that there once was a great empire here. But the other factions collectively wiped it out and their history too. At least that is what I've heard in the stories," he said as he brushed it off as some old tale.

Arel was completely oblivious to the fact that the ruler of the supposed empire was standing right next to him.

He sighed once more with each sigh as if making him even older. "I don't know how much we can endure. We have no one to help us and no one extends their hands to our forsaken village. The constant outlaws fleeing to this place are gradually robbing this place of our previously maintained peace."

"They won't be able to anymore," 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.