Christi descended the steep hill, rifle in hand, which had earned her more than a fair share of curious and worried glances. She wasn’t surprised; a stranger with a weapon slung over her shoulder did nothing to ease their alarm. Below her in the town centre, she spotted Piotr, Sam, and Ratchet. They scanned their vibrant environment, searching for something or someone. That someone was Christi, of course. 

Finally, the steeped ground levelled out beneath her feet. As she strode forward, Piotr, Sam, and Ratchet noticed her. Piotr waved a gloved hand in her direction as she neared. Sam’s lips pursed as his eyes were drawn to what Christi gripped in her right hand. The cold silver barrel of the weapon Horace had gifted her.

“Is that?” Sam asked, a look of recognition upon his face.

“Horace gave it to me,” Christi responded.

Piotr perked up. He placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh? Did he agree to help us then?” he asked.

Christi rested the rifle across both her palms and raised it to Sam, offering it up. 

“He said you’d know what to do with it.”

Sam gripped the barrel with both hands and ran his right hand across it. He smiled fondly. 

“This will be a great help, indeed.”

Piotr joined Sam, looked at the rifle, and subsequently looked to Christi. 

"Well, I wasn’t expecting much, but this has certainly exceeded my expectations. How’d you convince Horace to give you this?”

Christi met his gaze. She herself wasn’t too sure. 

“He just gave it to me. He said you owed him one,” she replied flatly.

Piotr chuckled,

“Heh, always the same. You get nothing for free where that man is concerned. I’m afraid that man will be dead and buried before I even get around to returning all these favours,” Piotr sighed. He strode to the rear of the carriage, Sam passed him the rifle, and Piotr wrapped the rifle in a blanket and tucked it neatly at the base of one of the benches.

“Well, let’s get back to matters at hand. Barakat awaits our imminent return,” Piotr said as he took his seat once again. Ratchet and Christi joined him. Ratchet looked to Christi and cracked a smirk.

“Good job kiddo,” he commented.

Christi nodded. Sam climbed to his perch once more and grabbed the reins.

“A shame we can’t stay any longer. I would have liked to chat with Horace over a cup of tea.”

Piotr looked to Christi,

“So? What did you think of Horace?” He asked her.

She thought back to the picture of Horace and the Fheitgr woman. Horace was certainly not what she had expected, by Piotr’s measure, or her own. 

“He was nice,” she replied softly.

Sam and Piotr exchanged a look; the pair tittered.

“Horace really must’ve taken to you; perhaps we’ll all get to sit down again someday and share a proper chat.”

Christi looked back to the hill on which Horace’s house stood. A slight smile crept to her lips. Horace was someone she’d like to meet again. The carriage drew away from the shadow of the Mor Mountains as the group departed Kinoa.

The ramparts were eerily quiet as the carriage lumbered closer to Valence Gate. Not a soul was to be found. The carriage lulled to a halt, and Sam disembarked from his perch. Piotr scanned his surroundings; it was unusual for such a gate like this to be so empty. A bang erupted in the west. Piotr decided to investigate. He took to the skies. Atop one of the tall watchtowers, he landed lightly and looked westward to where the loud noise had originated from.

Brand Gate, the town’s western gate, looked to be under attack. The ramparts were in disarray. A tall, singular Fheitgr warrior cut through a mob of guardsmen with ease. Those who did not fall to the blade were shoved over the side, falling some thirty feet. Another bang erupted; he felt the wall tremble. He dropped from the tower and plummeted below, catching himself just before he hit the concrete.

“Brand Gate is under attack; we don’t have much time. I’ll make my way over and provide what help I can,” Piotr said.

Before the group could respond, Piotr once again took to the skies. His coat flapped in the wind as he skimmed across the ramparts quickly. Screams of anguish and terror seeped into his ears, increasing dramatically in volume as he neared. Another loud bang boomed, and the wall shook; what was causing that? Ahead of him, he spotted the Fheitgr warrior who had been ripping through the guardsmen. Activating his affinity, Piotr grabbed a hold of some discarded clubs that lay amidst the corpses strewn along the wall.

The warrior failed to notice Piotr before it was too late; he cut down a man only to spin into a flurry of blunt projectiles. The warrior stumbled; a guardsman from behind clubbed the man on the back of the head and dropped the warrior. Piotr once again took to a vantage tower, and the gruesome scene unravelled before his very eyes. 

The second hour, the bull rampaged through a field of guardsmen who had foolishly charged to meet the machine. Wooden encampments splintered beneath the devastating limbs of the machine. The corpses of the unlucky were crushed and mangled. Sat upon a slope overlooking the chaos were Kydin and two other Fheitgr men. Piotr recognised one of the two; it was Panther. The second warrior who had fought alongside Korill in Inchydon Guardhouse. 

Kydin looked at Piotr; he smiled and waved to him flippantly. The bull pulsated red as it thrashed about. A bang erupted, and a burst of energy rippled from the machine. Anyone nearby was sent flying; the wall shook again. Piotr analysed the battlefield, searching for something—anything—that he could use against the devastating machine. To his right in the near distance along the wall sheltered beneath it all was the Church of Axci. A metal spire rose from the church’s rear dome.

It would suffice for now, Piotr thought as he pulled on the pole of metal. The spire ripped free and zipped towards the high wall; simultaneously, he pulled free the saps from the men, gathering the blunt weapons into a cluster and shaped spiked projectiles. 

The churchspire hung in the air above him. Piotr melded the spiked projectiles to the long pole; it no longer resembled a church spire but a demonic javelin instead. 

With a wave of his hand, he fired the javelin at the rampaging machine. The bull recoiled as the spire pierced its side. The bull turned directly to the wall, enraged. Piotr landed in front of the gate’s archway; he gathered another flurry of projectiles. He fired again, but the bull seemed to deflect the flurry easily as it charged. He glanced around; he needed something bigger. Looking backwards and upwards, he found his answer.

Piotr retreated inside the gate. The bull continued its charge. Wait. The bull bellowed loudly. Wait. The bull reached the mouth of the archway. Now! Piotr pulled down on the retractable iron gate. The bull was pinned to the ground, and the archway collapsed. The bull struggled beneath the debris that had pinned it. It pulsed red again. Piotr threw himself to the ground and braced himself.

The shockwave freed the bull; houses nearby were pelted with large stones. The bull rose from the rubble. Piotr had hoped the gate would pierce the machine deep enough to stop it. Piotr readied himself, but surprisingly, the bull didn’t advance. Instead, it turned tail and retreated. 

Piotr glided to the ramparts; he gazed out upon the plains as the bull galloped back towards the Mor Mountains. Kydin was nowhere to be seen. What should have been a victory instead felt like a monumental loss. Such destructive power, how could anyone hope to stop it? Piotr quelled his thoughts. For now, he returned to more pressing matters. Tending to the injured men around him and helping to provide relief. 

Guardsmen corralled the anxious crowd back from Brand Gate. Christi, Sam, and Ratchet slipped through the crowd. Sam exited the shuffle first; the guardsman looked to him before recognising him and allowing passage through. Piotr faced towards Brand Gate, his back turned to the group. Dust smeared Piotr’s coat, and the anguished cries of the wounded echoed around the ruined gate. Sam rested a comforting hand on Piotr’s shoulder. 

“What happened here, my friend?” Sam spoke softly.

“The bull attacked; frankly, it was impossible to even stop it. I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough.”

Rage flared inside Christi’s body; it was here, and she missed it. She strode forward to the gate and inspected the rubble. A glint caught her eye; she brushed aside a small rock. A scrap of metal lay atop the rubble. It was thick and copper-coloured. The metal pulsed faintly red in her hand, as if it were alive. She strode over to Piotr and Sam. 

“I found something,” she said, showing the group.

Footsteps approached, and the group looked up to catch a glimpse of who it was. Adriana strode forward; she didn’t look to be in the best of moods. She stopped and observed the rubble of Brand Gate. She cursed under her breath and joined the group.

“I heard what happened; thank you, Piotr, for doing what you could to stop that thing. I frighten at the thought of what could’ve happened if that beast was loosed inside here. Come let us speak more away from here, somewhere more secluded.”

A droplet of water splattered onto Christi’s head. They were once again in the damp underground chamber of the Finder’s headquarters below the church of Axci. Christi didn’t pay much attention as the group discussed their trip to Kinoa. Her mind lingered on the bull.

“...organise things on our end. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” Adriana finished. Christi glanced up, catching the tail end of the conversation. Before they left, Christi noticed a dark expression on Adriana’s face. She was about to boil over. Adriana’s furious scream echoed behind her as she departed the chamber. 

Kydin skulked forward through the canyon; up ahead was Toril Cave. The bull’s resting place. Today had only further reinforced his desire. Such raw power, he needed it if he were to have any hope of toppling the Championed Kydawn Family back in Ariva. He slid along the rugged canyon wall, stopping just at the mouth of the cavern. Inside was the bull; it sat idle. Kydin veiled himself in shadows, blending into the night and slinking inside. 

He tiptoed carefully as he approached the mountain of metal. Twenty feet tall and not lacking in the breadth department either, he couldn’t fathom how such a machine like this was created. He had heard rumours of creatures like these in Chrodrift four years ago; if what they had said was true, then there were ten more machines like the knight and the bull somewhere in Anriel. 

Steam hissed from the bull’s nostrils, Kydin paused. The mound of metal rose and fell with every second, as if it were breathing. Compared to the knight, the bull was different. During his time spent observing the machine, he had noted something. This machine didn’t behave like a machine; in fact, it seemed to replicate the characteristics of a bosar, a local cattle animal. Why was that?

He returned to the task at hand. Looped around the nostrils of the bull was a ring. Crouching down, he inspected it closer. The knight seemed to hold control over the bull; he had always wondered how. The attack on Brand Gate today was both a means to damage morale in Barakat and an opportunity to understand how the knight controlled such a creature. That former reason had allowed him to coax the knight into utilising the bull. 

Lately, the bull had become more selective with its erratic outbursts around Barakat. He had come to a conclusion as to why. The ring. If he could replicate the design and swap out the original, then he would acquire that same control the knight held. 

The problem was right now he had no idea how to do that; sure, he could replicate the design on the outside, but without any real information or even schematics, he could only guess how such a device worked. A faint blue aura seemed to hum along the surface of the ring; he had seen something like this before. It resembled an outline that was akin to an affinity.

A familiar ticking sound echoed behind him, and Kydin froze. Why was it here? It should’ve taken it another twenty minutes to return from Kinoa. 

“Who goes there? Show yourself,” the monotonous voice of the knight reverberated through Toril Cave.