A charred blue sky was buried behind the cloudy veil, heated by the sun which was slowly finishing its course behind the horizon. It was a rare sight to watch fallen leaves carried away by the wind in this time of the year as the trees and saplings usually started wearing their green dress, signalling the beginning of spring. And yet there was still this small leaf, coloured in brown or grey tints, crawling on the fortification’s floor, pushed away by the same invisible gushes of the wind which made the curtains breathe.

Even though they blocked the sun’s ray, their poor, thick but ruined appearance did not help prevent the men inside from shivering once or twice while they kept themselves busy chatting, sitting on boxes or standing across the circular room of the watchtower. One of them caught the curious leaf, cautiously observing it, thinking his mind was playing a trick, and when he understood it was a feather he blew upon it to let it fly away. A bird’s feather wasn’t a rare sight in the countryside, especially close to buildings where there were many orifices to build a nest.

Inside the watchtower, nobody really wanted to openly talk because the chief was (probably) close by and nobody wanted to be reprimanded for such a meagre reason, but mostly because they all had to stand watch and make sure the town’s surroundings looked safe. While twilight elapsed, the world became less and less bright, and with it the shadows covered more and more places until all of the lands they could watch would be covered by the veil of the night. The absence of light with the cumulated exhaustion from scrupulously watching for half a day made the men tired from stress and muscular pains.

One of them yawned which helped relieve the tension in the room, allowing the time to flow again and another guard to sneeze.

“When’s the relief team’s comin’?”

To keep the men fresh, they had to switch groups every six hours at most, each group then watched over for the next quarter of a day. Morning, midday, evening and at night, everybody respected and adhered to the schedule. The man sitting next to the window guessed the time by the sun’s position before answering with a shrug.

“Well, the sun’s setting, so they should be coming soon…”

As if to prove he was right, the door suddenly opened itself, letting another group wearing the same uniform coming inside, but with an additional layer to defend against the night’s coldness.

“What the hell, guys. Why didn’t you start the fire?”

A big man grumbled when he arrived, forcing himself into a falsely haughty attitude. He could have looked or sounded threatening if it wasn’t for the comically tone he took.

“Shut up and do it yourself!”

Everybody enjoyed talking back to him, because everybody knew he never had any bad thoughts about others. Right now he played the clown card to ease up both group while switching their seats, however he was also known as the person who earned the captain’s trust for his seriousness and devotion to his job, which was followed by him befriending everyone else in the casern. It did once happen he let out his rage does the talk, but nobody clearly remembered what happened back then so they simply concluded it was well deserved.

“I even promised a bottle for you guys. You all suck, you know that?”

He could grumble all he wanted, everybody simply laughed or shook their head in amusement when he went and gathered the material next to the pyre located at the center of the room to light the fire. He was accompanied by two of his colleagues who helped him bring the required wood so the fire could last for the night, piling the logs in order to prevent the whole stake to crumble everywhere when the flames would start eating it. Piling them up was the most arduous task, because then lighting the fire wasn’t that difficult: they only needed to heat up the heart of the pyre until a few embers emerged from the twigs, and if that still wasn’t enough they still had a husk of flammable oil at hand.

While the newcomers were arriving, the already present men all stood up in unison, gathering their belongings before departing for their own place. Many wore a satchel to carry their stuff, but only a few preferred a backpack as it felt less bulky, made in fabric or in leather according to their saving or if they knew someone who could craft one for them. They mixed together for a short while, sharing words and news before waving their hand, a line entering while a second exiting with heavy steps but a light heart knowing they could finally let someone else manage the job in their stead. The two groups switched at last, and the newcomers positioned themselves to begin watching the surroundings.

“Well? Where is the fire?”

“The twigs are too green I think, they don’t catch fire…”

“Fuck it, I ain’t spending the night without a fire.”

The grumbling man took the husk and spilled a small quantity of oil on the stake of logs, making sure the wood was properly covered until droplets fell in inside. Seeing his impatient comrade, he gave up on his bow and started colliding a flint against a chunk of iron until the sparks came in contact with the flammable liquid and finally gave birth to a small flame, first artificial and ephemeral, lasting until the fire gulped down the oil, but producing enough heat for the twigs to fume then produced its own ember, crackling each time another droplet of oil dropped on it. They reacted as soon as the first fire appeared, feeding it with dried wood to let the flames grow and consume the whole stake.

While a few were taking care of the pyre, the rest were busying themselves with other tasks: they gathered, tidied, looked for and scoured for any sadly forgotten ration they could snack on, but also for the weapons they would have to use for the next hours, inspecting their state, if they weren’t rusty and could indeed be used as decent weapons.

Conventional weapons were only used against cretins who tried themselves against a trained guard. As militias, their task was to defend the village against any sort of threat. It could be about brigands or even the rival kingdom’s army marching toward them, however that still wasn’t the worst case they could live through this night: shadows that lurked, hungry and bloodthirsty, camouflaged behind the darkness and instilling an uncommon terror, weak as a vacillating candle, yet insuppressible. Nobody could fight against those darkness, only the fire they were feeding was able to.

“Ah shit, I think mine’s broken.”

“Nah, don’t worry, you’re just dumb.”

He took the weapon from his grasp and grumbled an inaudible insult when he understood where the problem laid. He quickly undid the mechanism, forcing the crank to unlock what his colleague unintentionally blocked before giving him back his weapon. The equipment looked like a two-handed mass, however the head had this clockwork appearance which let every onlookers believe the thing was incomplete.

One of the militia brought back a box full of blades but with no pommel. Each man picked one, and then inserted it inside the mechanism, triggering the lock and completed a sort of axe with a blade too short to chop anything. This peculiar weapon had an official name, however the method to ‘prepare’ it seemed so familiar the populace gave it a more common name.

“Come on, guys! Warm up your skewers.”

He didn’t have to tell everyone as they were all already placing their weapon next to the pyre, putting the blade close to the flames in order to let the metal absorb the heat. In one or one and half an hour later, the blade would redden and brighten: it meant the weapon was at last usable.

“Alright, who wants to start watching?”

The watchtower could afford three watchers at the same time, two spots were immediately taken by volunteer, they had to decide with a game of rock-paper-scissors who would be the third guy. At day, only the rain or the fog could hinder their visibility, but at night there was no man who could distinguish a bush from a bear from a distance, that was why each position was adorned with a thick curtain to prevent the watcher from being blinded by the burning pyre, allowing him to get accustomed to the darkness even if only so much.

While the first were watching, the rest were leisurely chatting in the middle of the room. Nobody dared to sleep or nap as nobody could predict how and when something could happen, and they would react too slowly when in time of need. They gathered no too close to the pyre, but still close enough to pick up their skewer when needed, and kept themselves busy and awake with varied discussions and set of cards they brought with them. It only just begun, and nobody was anxious about the night to come.

“You really think we still have to watch?”

“Of course, you don’t know what happens at night?”

“Yes yes, of course I do, but it’s been so long we saw anything… I’m beginning to think they won’t come here anymore, you see?”

“Meh, I don’t think so. I heard one of the watchers from the northern tower saw something. There was even one who pissed himself when he heard a strange noise scratching against the door.”

“What the fuck is this stupid story?”

“I don’t know. I’m never on duty over there. That’s what they told me the next day at the bar.”

“And you believed them? Man you’re naïve.”

“Shut up. You know why we heat up those skewers. You really think we’d bother lighting the fire every night if we didn’t need them anymore?”

“It’s been fifteen years since monsters were gone. All that’s left are myths, or survivors who’ll eventually starve to death.”

Long ago, humans lived night and day in fear. It was due to the monsters roaming, hunting and devouring the unlucky ones. To prevent those unfortunate events, each agglomeration quickly built the sturdiest wall they could: first a wooden palisade, then a wall made in stone and finally great ramparts which repelled those flesh-eating creatures. But that was not enough, as many monsters proved to be agile enough to climb them or just flew above them while laughing. The most terrible were the ones possessing an herculean strength and who destroyed the wall with their fists or their head, those monsters left a breach in the wall which allowed a lot more to invade the territory. Many towns were razed because of such cases.

Then, one day, one of those behemoths backed away when facing a fire. Humans quickly guessed monsters were no different from any other animals, and tried to control those flames as soon as possible. They turned it into a weapon which they used to fight against the monsters, heroes came under the light and banished those creatures. It proved to be a war of attrition where the whole continent found itself lightened by this new weapon: the fire-lance. And when the last monster was slayed, humanity could finally enjoy a well-deserved peace. However, all they could accomplish was freeing them from the day’s fright, as they found themselves caught off guard against the creatures of the night. Fortunately, those monsters rarely approached the walls, and everybody was happy that way.

“And even if one of those beasts dared to come close, we just need to poke them with our skewers and they quickly understand it’s a bad idea to come here. That’s why we see less and less of them. Your dude from the northern tower must have met a youngling, he was lucky.”

Being lucky, as a night watcher, it meant meeting a monster that wasn’t hungry enough to become aggressive. If the diurnal creatures showed dexterity or strength, those nocturnal tended to adopt more deceitful tactics. One beast possessed a long sticky tongue which could easily grab you even if several meters separated you from its jaw. Many guards lost their lives on the wall because they forgot to bring along their fire-lance while patrolling. The problem resolved itself with time thanks to those same weapons.

The last night attack happened so long ago everybody kind of forgot to fear the monsters of the night, they were only evoked to remind why they shouldn’t wander outside when the sun set.

The wind blew through the glassless window, a cold breathe sending shivers in your spine, and announcing the coldest hours of the night. It was also at that time the next group should arrive, giving enough time for everyone to gather their belonging. During their turn, they switched three times their watchers, and one of them thought he saw a shadow moving, but as he couldn’t confirm its presence they all quickly forgot about it. Someone knocked on the door then opened it, letting a man holding a torch coming in.

Just like last time, the newcomers saluted the present guards, chatting for a short while before exchanging their place, the men taking their bags leaving the job of watching over the night to them. They left their fire-lance in the pyre; there is no fire-lance hot enough in this world, only blade too cold or badly-placed.

In order to get back home, they first had to head downstairs then toward the nearest casern where they would return their equipment and uniform. Knife, leather armour, belt full of utilities and a portable first-aid kit which was an absolute necessity. It couldn’t help with a severed arm or a sliced stomach, but sometimes a tight bandage was surprisingly enough to save a life. Relieved from their arsenal, the guards repeated “good bye” or “see you tomorrow” at each other before each taking their own path to home.