Hear me, all! I call to those of you, whose bellies churn in hunger, whose babes cry out in thirst! I call to you, and I feel your pain as if it were my own! For your faces speak out, louder than any shout, for all the hardship you have endured. Hear me, and know: the time has finally arrived.

Do you know, of which I speak?

Our armies dare not leave their posts, and our farms lay fallow: dried to dust, while monsters roam the lands. Have you seen then, perhaps? Those fearsome beasts, risen up from the depths themselves, to prey upon the weak? Even here, in humanity's most powerful bastion, death and ruin rein! Where coin now holds more value than life! I ask you: what have we left to us? As was long foretold, there can be no denying.

This world is dying! And we can do nothing but weather the blows. Endure, as it lashes out in violence! As it screams in horrid throes of an end most terrible.

The Emperor, our protector- may the Light watch over his Soul, has abandoned this Great City! With his fleet, his Mages, his Seers, the Church and all its faithful: he has left to fight another battle across the seas. To fight against the Prophecy which binds him! All while here upon the Old Country, our own lines falter! As we speak, the Dwarven Constructs are breaking through our Eastern defenses: ungodly puppets of stone, intent on murder and death! Our villages are burning, our people are dying, and in place of order? There is no such thing.

Where Royal soldiers once marched, where we once took our safety for granted- there is nothing but death! So, let it be known: I hear you, my brethren. I hear your words, whispered quietly, yet louder by every passing morn. I hear you, as you say: this is the end.

The era of ruin is upon us.

Some will say we should find refuge in our Faith. Take shelter within The First King's blessings. Huddle for warmth in the Light and Salvation from on high: to cling to the strength of our ancestors, to believe that the God of Light, will save us!

Yet, will he?

For all these prayers: do you not wonder why silence is all you receive? Perhaps you might take hold of such powers, perform as Healers do: but will the God of Light ever speak to you as I do now? Will he tell you what must be done, what must come to pass?

Nay.

Perhaps, some few of you still hold to the ancient ways, of Pagan trust in dead Gods- but do they answer your calls? Should you offer up your blood, should you offer up your lives, will they answer?

Again, I say: nay.

For all our crimes of necessity, for all our misguided deeds in the name of our very survival, the Church of Light will turn men and women like us away! Just as the Old gods are dead, so are we! Damned and labeled as wretched fools and sinners: yet, in our darkest days, there is still hope. For all my life, for all the evil I have done: I have found my faith.

Not of Light, no. Not of Man, or Kings, or coin. By the emblem I wear proudly: I have found a new God, and it has shown me the way forward. Let the stone crumble before him! Let his fires of green and radiance spare only the righteous, and hold back the darkness approaching! Let it be known!

All Hail!

……………………………………………..

10th day of the 1st month of the 4584th year after the great passing.

Titled - Heretic's Sermon

Heard and recorded by Scribe of the City, Luther Paul

Sealed in Trust, on Oath to the Empire

……………………………………………..

Chapter 2

[The Wastes]

The wagon moved just as quickly as the Ro’ pulling it would allow, while the sands blew fierce. It was another storm, first appearing as nothing but a light dusting, but now flowing with a violence. For it was now upon them in true. Rising up until it seemed higher than any natural cloud, the sand had begun blocking the road from all but the keenest eyes. Waves of dust that might rival even the City of the Emperor’s distant walls.

For hours now, there had been no respite. And yet, the wagon still carried onward: determined to continue its journey forward. Motivated by both desire for coin, and survival.

“Do you know where we are?” Trader Welsh shouted ahead to his guide, pushing out through the cover of the wagon to face the storm. For a brief moment, he had to resist to the urge to go back into hiding.

“I know where we are!” Over a thick shoulder, a man's voice returned. "We'll make it!"

“We need to stop, then! Any longer, and at this rate, we’ll be going in circles!”

“No, we can’t stop!” Pulling his cloak and hood tightly, a single calloused hand still on the reins, as his guide turned with the wind to yell back. “I’ve had to change our course, but it's for the best!”

“We were two days ride from the City, just yesterday!” Welsh fought to cough out the words, as he moved up, pulling the cover of the wagon closed behind him. “We can’t afford to turn that into another two by heading back! These supplies were due a week ago!”

“We won’t be turning back, but we can’t stop here, either! This area isn’t as safe as it used to be!” Turning the Ro’ left, the Guide cracked the leather straps. The animals ahead seemed to react to something unheard and unseen, snorting and jumping out of step, as more sand filled in around them. “The 'ro can tell, there's something’s trailing us now. If we slow, it’ll catch up!”

“What?” Welsh hesistated, as he took a seat, almost falling off the wagon entirely, as rocks kicked beneath the wheels. His hands gripped the railing and ropes, face desperate. “Is it a monster?" He held his breath as no immediate answer came forth. "Is it a Construct?”

“Aye, could be one, could be both.” His Guide kept the animals steady. Somehow, the man seemed to ride the rocky jostles effortlessly, even as Welsh felt every horrible jolt run up through his spine and into his teeth. “Doesn’t matter though, we'll manage.”

“How can you tell? How can you be certain?”

“Call it intuition.” Reaching back with one hand, they tapped the grip of a weapon slung over their shoulder. “Worst case, I’ll deal with it myself.”

Welsh closed his eyes, the howl of wind and sand whipping in his ears.

“And if you can’t?” Welsh asked, swallowed nervousness as he opened his eyes once more. Peering out into the swirling dust, there was nothing. Nothing at all to be seen.

They could be hopelessly turned around, walking right into danger, for all he knew.

“Don’t worry, I'm more than worth the coin you paid.” The guide reassured him. “We’re almost where we need to be-” At that, the wagon bucked, wildly ripping a trail onto two wheels, before setting back down into motion with a heavy impact that left Welsh’s teeth rattling and tongue all but bleeding. They hadn’t stopped, or broken down (thank the light) but they were dragging a bit more as the beast hauling them bellowed in frustration.

“I thought we were still a ways off from the City?” Welsh questioned, sand ahead all but blinding. Past ten paces, there was nothing but the flowing rows of infinite grains of dust. Reaching into his pocket, he felt for the parchment of the map he knew would be there, pulling it free to squint at it. “Last I knew, there weren’t any refuges out this way, either.”

“You’re right, on both counts.” The guide answered. “But I know a place we can stop and rest. Should be safe, if only for a short while.”

“Really?” Welsh tried to make head or tail of the ink beneath a single lantern’s light that was swinging recklessly overhead. There was no such thing marked... but then again, it might be upside down.

He frowned, going over it again.

“There isn’t anything on the map.” He finally stated, somewhat sure of himself.

“Well, you didn’t hire the map!” Pulling the reins again, the Guide steered them past a massive boulder, Ro’ bucking wildly until they were past it. “Now, hang on!”

“Gods!” Welsh almost lost the paper, as he latched onto any handhold he could find, coughing from the sand that had slipped past the cloth around his face. The giant stone seemed to jump, as they swung around it. “Where did that come from?” He sputtered.

“Long as it doesn’t follow us, I could care less.”

“Follow us? How could it-” Another rough turn, this time to avoid a patch of smaller stones, cut Welsh off early. His cargo shifted, ropes creaking under strain as contents shook.

“You’d be surprised!” The guide shouted, riding up to snap the reins back down. “Almost anything can happen, around here!”

The humor sounded forced.

Warily, Welsh peered back out into the storm, blinking as he made out shapes.

Beside the wagon, Welsh thought he could see figures running. Thin, streamlined bodies, not of flesh but, stone.

"Gods." He swallowed sand in a nervous gulp, as he felt the horrible grip of nausea affix itself to the pit of his stomach.

Not monsters, then. No, these were worse. Soulless, mechanical, terrors. Constructs, as they were known. The Dwarven threat which held the Empire at a standstill for centuries. Awful machines that endlessly spilled out of the Eastern Mountains. Welsh watched as they moved silently, swiftly. Forms in perfect rhythm, quickly advancing despite the wagon’s speed. Alien sculptures, in a terrible mimicry of life.

Then, the storm fully swept back in around them, blocking them from sight.

“They’re gaining on us.” He choked out. “What do we do?”

“Don’t worry!” His guide cracked the reins again, ignoring the Ro’s bellow of frustration, as it increased its speed. “We’re almost there!”

Out among the dust and storms, sounds began to echo. Muffled as they were, caught and pulled away by the winds, Welsh could hear them clearly. Of conflict, of battle, of shouts that came from something not made by voice- but rock and glass. Impacts, and ripples of force through the sand.

The storm pitched: howling gusts blocking out all noise as the wagon’s frame shook from the forces. Then, suddenly, the wheels began to slow.

“We’ve made it!” One final crack of the reins brought them out of the storm, night sky appearing at once. “We’re here.” The guide whispered, in the sudden absence of wind.

He was right, Welsh recognized. As the wagon came to a stop, Ro’ panting heavily, the storm seemed to carry on, but behind them. As if pushed away by unseen currents to part a clearing, circled within a large ring of towering stones. Like the eye of a storm, they’d come to find a space that was almost… peaceful.

“Where are we?” Welsh asked, turning to confirm the churning dust and wind, not ten paces behind him. Its thick texture, almost that of a wall, or smoke held behind glass.

“Hard to explain, exactly.” The guide replied. “But nothing can follow us here.”

“Those stones… Are those… statues?” Welsh asked, peering at the ring of large stones. Each carved out to a shape most strange. Not quite of men, but not quite of beast... but all very... froggy.

He couldn’t help but stare.

"Something, isn't it?"

“It's such intricate work.”

“Aye.” His guide replied, as they dropped down beside the tired animal, reaching for a bag of feed. “Best to leave them be, though.”

“What of the…” Welsh swallowed the lump in his throat as he turned back towards the storm. “Those things, chasing the wagons?”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“I feel that I do, though.” Above, Welsh looked up to see stars, as they emerged from the swirling mass of sand and dust. Squinting, he could fix their direction. It seemed right. “I never imagined to see Constructs so close to the City.”

“Eastern Front is suffering, lately.” His guide murmured. “Still, none of those things are going to get us here. Of that, you have my word.” Stepping away from the Ro’ the Guide began marching forward, towards the only other piece of the clearing. Welsh glanced back towards the wagon, before turning to followed them.

Ahead, in the center of the ring of stones was… Green.

It was a tree, Welsh realized.

A living tree, out in the middle of the wastes.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

"Beautiful? Yes, yes it is." Welsh stared at it in wonder. Twice Welsh’s height and covered in thick leaves the branches swayed in the twisting wind. Deep roots spread out, like a spider web, diving deep into the mound of sand below. Underneath them, though, Welsh thought he could see the shadow of something more.

There was a sensation as he looked into the depths of those roots. Of something deep, dark, and foreboding, that left the goosebumps along his arms.

“Is it… covering something?”

“Aye, you could say she's doing that.” Pulling down his hood and wrapping cloth, the guide’s dark skin caught the night sky’s eerie light. “Marks a grave, among other things.”

“For who?”

“Depends on who you ask.” The guide replied, staring at the canopy. “Not even two years ago, over a hundred souls were lost, right here. Blood, fire… the whole mess and more.”

“A battle, then?” Welsh stared at the tree as well. Between the leaves, he could spot the stars, ever so briefly, as the wind picked up.

“You could call it that.” For a moment, the guide seemed almost lost in thought, expression just before a frown. “I wouldn’t, though.”

The wind picked up again, and Welsh could swear he saw something move, among the branches.

“What is-”

“We’ll be staying for the night. Just until the storm passes” Almost a shout, as if so that someone else might hear, the guide bowed low, towards the tree. “I'm sorry for the trouble. You have my thanks.”

Welsh waited, uncertain at the sudden announcement. It had given him a fright, but now he wasn’t sure what to make of things. The guide rose back up, turning to him, not the tree.

“I… you also have my thanks.” Welsh said, reluctantly facing the tree. “Lovely place.” He added.

It seemed the right thing to do, as his guide nodded once, appreciatively, before they turned and motioned towards the wagon.

“I’ll keep watch. You should check the cargo. Every bit counts, these days, and it would be a shame if any came loose.” His guide nodded to the ropes and cloth, now bulging in several places. Clearly, strained by the rough trip. Heavy boxes of storage rune crystals, each packed and insulated as carefully as could be managed on a budget. Each, worth their weight in Gold.

“I… see.” Welsh replied. “You’re certain you won’t need help?”

“Aye." The guide nodded again. “Go on.”

Welsh looked to the tree once more, before leaving the guide beside it and heading back to the wagon.

Climbing up, past the tired Ro’ and leather restraints, he stopped- just before pulling back the cover to the cabin. Beyond that cloth, a bedroll waited, almost buried among cargo and other lesser items of value. It wasn’t a huge haul, but Welsh had felt it was a worthy one, especially for the speed the guide had promised them. Peering back outside, though, Welsh watched the man.

His guide had remained standing beside the tree. Posture relaxed, weapon still slung on his broad shoulders, the man seemed almost oblivious to their surroundings, though Welsh knew such looks could be deceiving. Especially, in these parts of the world, where the dangers that threatened mankind were all but ever-present.

Still… He was a odd fellow, surely. The guide had not been the cheapest, but with so many recommendations, Welsh was hard pressed to find better.

Still, though he was too far away to be sure, Welsh could almost swear the man was speaking to the tree.

Which was a rather odd thing for a guide to do, even if such folk were known to be somewhat strange.

Another trader, Stefano, had sent him a letter of recommendation, directly, though. Calling the man "An Adventurer most reliable and trustworthy." One of several letters, actually. Just due to the fact that Stefano was one of the few hadn’t folded into the unified Merchant’s Guild these days, Welsh had accepted the conditions and the contract terms easily enough. And truly, he couldn’t deny his guide had been steady all through their journey, up until now, but…

Eyeing the carved stones about the clearing, Welsh felt a shiver run along his spine.

Those hadn’t moved… had they? It almost seemed there were more of them, now. Some with weapons, some without…

What was this place?

It had an aura about it. Strange, almost alien.

Welsh shook his head as he pulled the wagon cover behind him, laying down to rest.

No more thoughts on this, or he would never sleep. He would trust the guide. If it was safe, it was safe. That was what he had paid the man for, and he’d no reason to stop trusting.

He closed his eyes.

It felt like only moments later the guide was calling to him once again.

“It’s time to go.” From outside the wagon, Welsh heard and felt the frame shift, as a heavy weight sat back down upon the coach’s seat. “Storm’s passed us by.”

“Already?” Welsh asked, surprised. “How long as it been?”

“Long enough.” Came the reply. “It’s morning.”

“Morning? Truly?” Slipping tired eyes back outside the cloth cover, Welsh was confronted with a bright orange sunrise, creeping up upon a flat of dust and sand for miles. “I’ll be.”

Only the circle of carved stones and the tree, broke up the landscape.

"Aye, comes quick doesn't it?"

”And those things chasing us… they left on their own?”

“No.” The guide replied. “No, but we won’t be worrying about their lot anymore.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Call it… a kind of faith.”

“I see.” Welsh lied, warily looking out over the dusty plains. There was truly nothing else, for as far as his eyes could see. Just the lone tree, encircled by the stone statues. “In the light of day, this seems a sad place, for faith.” He said, quietly. “Truly sad.”

“Aye.” His guide replied, solemn as they brought the reins down, to start the Ro’ anew. “I hope that one day, it won’t be.”

As they left, looking back Welsh could have sworn that, among all the green, he saw the faintest hint of blue. Blue like the sky, before all the dust, the droughts, and the sun. Just for an instant.

Then, it was gone.