Chit Chat

Alistair dangles his feet off the edge of a ruined building's second floor, awake in the middle of the night.

The moon is high in the sky, painting the ruined and bloodied landscape in a pale, milk white light.

"If only I had a canvas and paintbrush along with some paint," Alistair murmured, smiling.

Wolves howl in the distance, beyond the small hills which surround Winstet, there are much higher hills. These higher hills are covered pretty well in vegetation and forests, a river flows down from it and is the primary water source of Winstet along with tubewell systems.

"I'd create a masterpiece," he continued, moving one of his mechanical hands in such a way that it mimics the way a master artist moves a brush. He traces his finger over the quiet landscape, the varying hills which are both soft and hard, the desolate and bloody ruins in front of him, the gently flowing river, the soft clouds and finally, the moon.

"And, done.." He murmurs, his smile widening slightly as he finishes tracing his finger over the scenery.

His soldiers patrol the area, staying vigilant.

The soliers in the vehicles and XE-8s are beyond the perimeters of Winstet, providing further defence while, the artillery mechs; H-70 and H-75 and frontline mechs; H-68s remain in standby.

Finally, the trucks containing the fifteen slaves is just behind the building Alistair is on.

So far, the night has been uneventful besides the whining of the slaves.

He stands up and moves to the other side of the building's second floor, also ruined like everything else in Winstet.

He looks down, seeing three soldiers.

"I've heard we'd be getting improved armour after the unification day, some told me it'll have even better padding." One said to another, voice calm and cool as he chuckles. The man had '17 - Mises Frey' on his pauldron, a tally mark followed by the name.

"Ah, I've also heard that. Though, it'll certainly not be too comfortable or else, we'd fall asleep." Another soldier, No.15 - Lewis Hret, said, chuckling.

"True, true." He said calmly, looking at his gun for a moment.

"I'm thinking about getting a better gun, perhaps I'll specialise to use heavy weapons." Another soldier, No.16 - Jakker Drettor, said. His voice determined.

"Ah, very nice. I think I'd apply to be a mech pilot." Another, No.21 - Wretis Vietto, said, his enthusiasm seeping through.

The other soldiers laughed, "Oh, come on, Wretis! You're really going to leave your brothers to pilot a mech?" One chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah." Wretis, said as he chuckled as well.

To the left of the soldiers were the fifteen prisoners; seven males—four old, two young and one just a boy, the eight females—four young, two adults, one of which is relatively old and, a girl.

Alistair observed the casual banter of the soldiers and the enslaved citizens of Winstet and considered the scene and then, moved walked to the staircase of the ruined building, now just a hole with barely usable stairs, just burnt and splintering wood.

He descended down them with grace, somehow knowing where to step and where not to on that wreck of a stair. He emerged from a large hole in the wall, his polished armour glistening even in the faint moonlight and his torn cloak fluttering slowly, this made him look almost otherworldly and ethereal.

The sobbing of the prisoners grew louder to him, whether it be from his shortening distance from them or, from his presence.

The soldiers, upon seeing Alistair, stopped their casual chit chat and their relaxed posture stiffened with enforced formality in the presence of the Lord Enforcer. Their, then smiling and grinning, faces also stiffened into one of rigid formality.

Alistair stopped only a few paces from the group of prisoners,

The boy looked up to him in confusion and fear, clinging close to the girl, presumably his sister who seems older than him.

Alistair smiled gently, getting onto one knee, "Hello there, little ones." He said softly, reaching out with his hand—his armoured hand instead of the mechanical ones—towafds the little boy. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, looking almost ethereal.

"Don't be afraid, I'll not hurt those who obey and follow." Alistair says with a small smile, slightly tilting his head.

The girl shivered as she watched Alistair touch her brother, Alistair's touch was gentle and careful. Yet, the girl felt tears of fear well up in her eyes. The boy swallowed nervous, "W.." He wanted to say something yet, he couldn't speak.

The people in the back—soldiers and prisoners alike—watched in anticipation, seconds in this interaction passed like hours, no..days even.

"As I said, no need to be afraid." Alistair repeated with a smile, reaching out to the girl with his other hand and ruffled her hair slowly, "Tell me your names." He said calmly.

The girl swallowed nervously, her breathing quickening in fear, "I'm A...Alivi- Alivia.." She said in a voice barely audible over the winds howling through the ruins of Winstet.

"He.. brother.. he's Joren.." She said, her eyes darting between Alistair's and the boy, Joren's face.

"Lovely names," Alistair's smile widened, he giggled.

The prisoners, except the childres, shivered ever so slightly at the seemingly pleasant sound, the soldiers looked away slightly.

He noticed that and let out a miniscule sigh, "Say, Alivia and Joren, why do you think this happened to Winstet?"

The children looked confused, staring at Alistair, the soldiers and the prisoners with their teary eyes which conveyed confusion. They gave Alistair a deer in headlights look, "W..We don't know.." Joren said, vouce trembling as he whimepred at the end.

"Uh..y..you think we're evil?" Alivia said in a voice mirroring her brother's own.

He sighs, smiling.

"Well, some of you are." He paused, looking over them, at the other prisoners. Their faces either turned away or, those of barely controlled hate and anger.

"We recieved news that people here were working with the Xyresian Rebels League." He paused and smiled at the children who seemed more confused, "Xy..rebel?" Alivia muttered in confusion.

Alistair chuckled, "You don't have to know that much. Just know this, they're bad guys. They want to take away Wythria's peace." Alistair said calmly, ruffling her hair. He looked at Joren, "Both of you will grow up and serve Wythria, repent for what your people did."

The small blades which were on the fingertips of the armour retracted as Alistair wiped away their tears carefully, the children shivered slightly as they felt the cold metal of the armour against their skin but, didn't make a sound.. With that, he stood up and smiled once again at the children. The children nervously waved at home seemingly swayed by Alistair's charisma.

He planned on heading off, even turning away yet..

He heard a whisper, a mutter under breath. He looked back at an adult male prisoner, looking at him with contempt and anger. The man's lips were open, telltale sign that something left them.

He glanced at the kids, contemplating whether he should do something or not. He decided to make an example.

He turnedd back fully, his face nearly unreadable except a miniscule smirk of contempt.

"You," He looked at the man. The soldiers around him turned their heads towards the man as well, the prisoners' eyes widened.

The man cowardly turned his head away yet, it was too late.

Alistair walked towards the man, his armoured boots clicking against the ground with each step. He stood right over the man, "May I know what you said?" Alistair asked in a velvety smooth voice which was laced with bloodthirst.