“I am intrigued by the smile upon your face, and the sadness within your eyes”

- Jeremy Aldana

(XSS-MK1 POV)

Hesca and me are enjoying the shade provided by the nacelle we are in right now. Via is still playing her strange instrument, guiding the Nilas smoothly across the dunes. The night passed without trouble, and I have been using the time alone to process all the things I encountered so far in this strange new world.

There is a lot of things to process. A gross understatement considering the amount of data, theories and calculations I have to work on each night, utilizing nearly all of my computing power.

But on the good side, Hesca is nearly healed. And I found some spare clothes. However, I didn't fail to notice the increase rate of regeneration she displayed compared to the humans of my world. Surely a side-effect due to the highly irradiated environment of Drasil. It didn't stop me to perform numerous deep analysis on her body just to make sure she would do a full recovery. Something I believe she is grateful for.

However, one of the unfortunate side-effect of her recovery is that she is now experiencing the same boredom as me. A boredom that was only alleviated temporarily by the few and far between stops we did in different oases to sell the merchandises Via bought, and resupply our water.

Finally cracking after five days, Hesca asked Via about how she did to endure the long trips.

She looked at us with a smile.

"Well that's simple really. I know every part of these sands. You only see dunes with the occasional rock."

"And you don't?"

She adopted a knowing look before answering.

"Let me show you something."

She takes the instrument to her lips again. What I saw as a metal contraption originally is actually closer to a clarinet, if a lot more basic, and a little bit bigger.

She starts playing a different sound as before, and we can see the Nilas suddenly veering right.

"Pay attention."

Hesca and me edge our way to the front opening of the strange cradle, sharpening our senses to try to discern what she is talking about. Via produces a different sound again and we are destabilized by the sudden turn left the Nilas do. Just in time too.

Because just in front of us an enormous sand snake has suddenly emerged from the ground in an explosion of sand. It is as least twenty meters long and resembles a supersized rattlesnake. It gives a loud hiss before starting to chase the Nilas. Via switches to a faster tempo melody, causing the Nilas to surge forward, quickly distancing the reptile, who gives up after a few minutes of frantic chase.

Via puts down her instrument and explodes in laughter. After a while, she stops, but not before wiping a small tear forming in the corner of her eyes.

"Ha… It works every time! You should have seen your faces!"

Hesca has a sour look. She did not appreciate the joke. I intervene before she can say anything.

"I take it you do this often?"

Via takes a smug pose.

"Every trip. You actually lasted longer than most passengers. Most crack around three days in."

She takes a more serious attitude.

"But to come back to my original point. You just see sand. I see beast territories, patrol paths, tribe borders and so much more. To me, the desert is a playground. One that I know like the back off my hand."

I nod. I can understand her point. Something bothers me though.

"That beast we encountered? What was its name?"

She looks in the front, focusing on the dunes ahead.

"That was a drilko. Pretty calm most of the time. Sleeps in the sun all day. Unless it's hungry. If so, it will bury itself and lay in ambush to whatever comes close." She makes a grimace. "Bad way to go. They digest slowly."

I stay quiet. Why the hell was the inn we stayed at in Takar called "The Sleeping Drilko" then? I brush the implications off my mind. This is not really important. At least now I know what a drilko is. I grunt internally when I amend the amount of research necessary on the fauna of Drasil.

"But you can relax. We will arrive at Delta in about two days tops. We were a bit faster than usual."

Hesca gives a sigh of relief at that news. I think that if she is forced to stay one more week holed up watching sand, she will go crazy.

And just like Via said, two days later, we arrived at Delta.

The huge stone walls were easily visible from afar in the scorching afternoon light. We also saw a lot of caravans as we got close to the city. They were composed of huge lumbering beasts, which resembled what you would get if you mixed a hairy camel with an elephant. And gave it six legs instead of four. They had the same strange pods on their back as we did. I questioned Via about the beasts.

"Oh that? That's a Trus. Good for carrying heavy weights. But really slow. You need armed escorts with all the threats in the desert if you plan to travel with that." She pats the top of the Nilas we were on, and takes a disgustingly sweet voice. "Nothing like my babies. Right? Oh yeah. That's right."

I decide to ignore her antics and focus on the approaching walls instead. They are made of dark stone, greyish in color, with a tint of orange in them. But what surprises me is the smoothness of the walls. If you build with bricks, you are always going to have defects, small irregularities in the pattern they were placed in. But none are present here. This was not built by human hands. The perfect circle they are forming around the presumed, and still not visible, city isalso another indication.

I could feel my curiosity starting to act up. This is the place. The one where I finally start getting answers.

Via made the Nilas change directions, orientating them to the east. I point at the big metal gate I can now see from afar.

"Isn't the entrance here?"

She give a negative nod.

"That's for normal travelers. I have a merchant caravan status. And I need place for the Nilas to enter the city, and unload them."

That made sense. A dedicated entrance for merchants and suppliers would reduce traffic a lot for the regular checkpoint. And allow the guards to do their jobs better.

"Get back inside a bit. Less questions asked the better."

Me and Hesca nod and step away from the front opening of the nacelle. It limits our field of view drastically, and leaves us waiting for Via to give us the signal that we are finally at our destination.

A few moments later I can start hearing the sounds of the bustling activity of the city getting louder and louder, until they surround us, drowning my auditory sensors in new information. I can also get a glimpse of the fact we just passed the walls.

Via makes a last sound on her instrument before moving toward the side exit.

"Wait here. I'll be back in a sec."

She doesn't wait for our answer and grabs the knotted rope attached to the pod frame, and starts to climb down the worm.

I stretch my perception and can hear her order GR3-DF127 to get down and start unloading the remaining supplies on the others two Nilas. Then I hear her starting to talk to what I can guess is an official, in charge of welcoming any merchant that comes through the entrance.

After a short discussion, she is cleared through and I can hear her come back. She climbs up and look at us.

"Well this is the end of the road. Pleasure doing business with you."

She does a strange hand gesture.

"May the scorching Winds spare you on your way to the next Oasis."

I nod silently, recognizing the traditional nomad greeting. I give her the expected answer.

"And may the Spirits spare your Path of danger on your way back."

She smiles, surprised but happy. Hesca and I shake her hand before climbing down. I finally take a good look at the city built by my kind.

The first thing I feel is satisfaction. And then anger. A smoldering anger that I hide under the cover of my clothes and impassible facade.

The architecture is clearly designed with efficiency and practicality. The numerous buildings and large neatly paved streets all flow perfectly into one another, the seams between them all but invisible. The straight lines, angles and curves of the structures merge with their incredibly smooth walls composed of the same greyish-orange stone as the outside in a tantalizing display of efficient beauty. All of the buildings clearly have their place, showing that the city plan had clearly been drawn up before the first structure had even been built.

But it has been bastardized. Where my kin's constructions are a work of order, purpose, and near perfection, true to their methodical nature, the new occupants have sullied it. The entrance which we came in has been created by cutting grossly into the smooth exterior wall. The inside itself is infected, like with a parasite, by the uneven and shoddily built structures made by human hands.

I stay immobile, flabbergasted by the outrage I am feeling as I observe the imperceptibly slow perversion taking hold of the work of my people.

I feel a hand being put onto my shoulder. Hesca is there, having put together what is left of our belongings after the long journey.

"What now?"

I snap out of my trance and concentrate on my answer. Later. I will deal with my "feelings" later.

"We need lodgings. We may have to stay here a while."

She nods. I examine her. Does she realize? Can she even see the crime having been committed here? Probably not. Would she even understand if I explained it to her? I don't even think humans in general can perceive the wrongness present around them, the details escaping them, being imperceptible to their minds and senses.

I follow Hesca mechanically, lost in my thoughts, as she asks for directions and gets redirected to a nearby inn. We walk slowly through the crowd, pretty dense despite the wide boulevards cutting through the contaminated urban landscape. I take a moment to look around me, and at the people we cross on our way to the inn.

And I see Clockworks. Roaming the streets. Following more or less quietly behind humans and demons. They are not that many, but their presence is noticeable. Tall, cold, sentinels of iron or steel moving with a purpose behind those that now hold their very fate in their hands.

They all share a humanoid form, but each one is different from the last. Some have four legs. Others, four arms. The only similarity seemingly being the rust and dents that cover their exterior, like a rugged coat of paint, only obtainable through age and wear.

But what really shocks me is the silence. Not the one of the people around, they are loud enough to be heard from even the outside of the walls, but of the clockworks. My antenna isn't receiving anything. Not even encrypted transmissions that would denote of a private conversation between two of them. Beside the rare and occasional greeting and designation sharing, they stay silent, not even looking at each other.

They don't even shoot me a glance, unlike the first clockwork I ever met.

I remember Machina's words.

"I mean I will send you in a hostile world, where my people are enslaved like you nearly were, with limited to no support. And it will be up to you to free them, or to rust away, dismantled and dead for good this time. A whole other world, with new horizons, a new life and a new body. So what says you?"

And I agreed, didn't I?

"Hey. We are here."

I look at Hesca, who is motioning me to enter one of the absurdities in this otherwise organized metropolis.

I try to steel myself.

My work has only just begun.

(Hesca Veneli POV)

As I sit myself on the small bed and start undressing for the night, I look at the frame of my strange companion, sitting silently by the window. "She" had taken her clothes off once we were in the privacy of our room. It revealed her exquisitely detailed black, silver and red exterior. I let my eyes wander on the red lines and strangely angular curves. It is as fascinating as it is scary. I had never seen more than one clockworks before meeting her. But now, after the walk from the entrance of Delta to this inn, I realized the truth.

The one in front of me is radically different from all of the others. Not just by its attitude. But at its core.

I remember my initial reaction upon seeing it. I was terrified. All the stories, and all the tales of the Great War. And she laughed when I told them to her. Such a genuine and derisive laugh.

She had told me a different story. One I did not believe at first. But I decided to go along with it. I may have been scared, but she had saved me from a fate worse than death. What ungrateful person would I have been if I didn't at least listen to her side of the story after that?

And there was one thing I liked about her. She was fair. It didn't matter to her if you hated her gut, or loved her unconditionally. If you made a deal with her, regardless of the consequences, she would honor it as long as you did too. She told the truth and kept to her word.

So what if she was a Stray? One of the rare clockworks that escaped the righteous crusade of the Church and that led the failed but devastating Iron Rebellion. A well-known and established fact that even now I start to doubt. Who could blame me after what happened in the last few weeks.

Like when the Black Hand itself appeared to catch her.

I had heard tales of the Black Hand before. Whispered stories during the night, at the bar or around a campfire, when the alcohol had worked enough of its magic to loosen the tongue of those that knew something. The elusive corps was never displayed in a good light. More akin to the dark side of the Church. The one that got its hands dirty. And often, more than necessary.

When they showed up, I was actually relieved. I actually thought, for a fleeting moment, that all that happened was just a nightmare I would eventually wake up from, and that everything would be alright again.

How wrong I was.

And even when they made me doubt about this strange persona that had "required" my help, its answers only served to reinforce the feelings of wrongness, of something not being in the right place, of a truth being hidden from me.

I had made a choice that night. A very heavy choice.

But I didn't regret it. She kept true to her word. As long as I helped her, she would protect me. Care for me.

And she did.

Not only did she survive the bolt of lightning itself, but she even did magic! One that is supposed to be the bane of its existence.

And then she started killing.

I had seen the aftermath of the bandit camp. Even helped loot it. And at that moment, I understood how she did it.

The pure, unaltered, strength she possessed. And the terror she inspired. Not just in our enemies, but in me. There was never any need for her to lie to me. She could extinguish the candle of my life before I would have even realized it had been blown out. And yet, she nursed me back to health during our travel in that Goddess forsaken desert.

I had made the right choice.

I trace a finger on the large scar present on my stomach. One of the many that now adorn my skin. Reminders of that day which I will probably take to my grave.

My eyes rise from my stomach to meet the slightly luminescent silver gaze of Em-kä-one. She showed me her full name once. A string of six gibberish symbols separated by a small dash. The pronunciation was worse.

But this is not why I met her eyes.

She is very expressive. Not in the traditional sense of the word, of course. But I have travelled three weeks with her, and I can discern some of her expressions. An imperceptible twitch of the lips for an amused smile, or a slight frown for repressed anger. I think she doesn't always realize she is showing them.

And right now I am stumped. Because she is showing something that I have never seen before. And I can't put my finger on what it is. She is showing it since we have arrived in this city, even if I can tell she is trying to hide it.

We continue to stare at each other in an awkward silence for a while. I am used to it by now: it doesn't bother me.

After a while, she finally speaks. With that voice, so human in nature. If you could only hear her, you would never guess her true nature. A crystal voice, cold and clear, but that carries through her tone the emotions behind the words.

"Tomorrow we will explore the city. I need information. We will also need to secure a source of income. So rest up. I will need you."

I get it now. She is sad.

I nod, acquiescing to her instructions. As I get into the sheets of the bed, I decide to ask the question burning the tip of my tongue.

"Is there something wrong? You aren't… like usual."

She stares at me in silence, still as a statue. Only the slight movements of her eyes tell me she is thinking. After a minute, she moves her gaze back to the window.

"You would not understand. Or believe me for that matter."

I take that as the cue that the conversation is well and truly over. But once I am in bed, and on the edge of succumbing to sleep, I can hear one last sentence coming from her. It is murmured, like it wasn't intended for any other ears except her own.

"One day maybe…"