Vita - 2 The echo of bending iron rang through the air; The clamoring of metal and heat into munitions; invasive light cast a spotlight on the flickering, twirling dust of the complex. "[b]Will the weapons be ready and loaded in time?[/b]" "Yours will be." "[b]And of the others? I will not have a legion of dead men defending our home, my home.[/b]" The clangs went and the sparks flew, a steady pace. A slow pace, defying the rush and panic of the armory; Just within view, groups of men and the odd women here and there - groups no larger than ten, no lesser than three - would all run the same routine. Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit. Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit. Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit. "[b]200 credit advance for every gun ready before Hour 13.[/b]" The other smithers took notice and increased pace by about double, just fast enough so as to ensure no mistakes. "You know your bribes are worthless to me." Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit. "[b]Then what threat can I issue that is anything compared to what they'll do to you?[/b] "And why should I care what they do to me?" Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit. "[b]What they'll do to Lorell . . .[/b]" Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Exit A small pause as everyone within the forge, everyone within earshot, had heard the next statement before even a word was ushered; The inevitability of such a clause acutely evident. "[b]To Emilia?[/b]" The words hung for nearly an eternity. Enter, Helmet, Armor, Weapon, Bang . . . The first bullets. WY-3 Time, Minute 40, Hour 11, Day 56, Homestead Year 794. The survivor gave one last gaze; He never took his helmet off, but his people knew what that stance inclined. ~~~ The student poured over the pages of seemingly ancient texts, dust worth a century, overflowing and crammed within the library. What was left of it, moreover. Within a separate room, lit by a barely burning furnace, a single lonely ray of sun betraying the enclosure, "[b]I'm sorry for what happened . . . to your daughter.[/b]" "Don't be. War's done. Past's in the past." "[b]Why'd you come here?[/b]" "I saw the pillars outside. Really still standing all this time?" "[b]Barely. Why'd you come here?[/b]" "To ask a question I sure as hell can't answer myself." "[b]You got the alcohol, take a swig and shoot[/b]" The old mentor took a shot - pale, dead even. Wasn't even whiskey anymore, just watered alcohol. "Who won?"