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A few weeks after the last of the ceremonial lanterns disappeared into the night sky, Avad sent messengers with a note, asking for Aloy.
Finishing off a piece of fruit, something sweet and a little sticky, she walked the familiar path through Meridian’s winding streets to the palace. Erend took mock umbrage with the fact that she knew almost nothing about Carja foods and flavors and as a result continued to return from market days with an almost comical bounty of strange fruits, vegetables, and berries. She had a hard time remembering the different names – this one was maybe a plum – but heartily enjoyed each them along with Erend’s enthusiasm at describing their texture, growing season, and what kind of pies they could be baked into.
Aloy nodded to the vanguard at the palace gate and climbed up the worn stone staircase. She found Avad out on a palace balcony, speaking with a few city engineers armed with stacks of rolled maps and schematics. Noticing Aloy, a smile appeared on his face as he politely dismissed the men.
“Aloy!” Avad said, spreading his arms out in greeting, “thank you for coming on short notice.”
“Of course,” Aloy responded. “Repairs to the city seem to be going well.”
“They are,” Avad said, “and we’re making better time than initially anticipated. The significant structural damage has all been addressed, at least functionally if not ornamentally. My engineers are eager to start incorporating new designs and improvements into their reconstruction efforts.”
“Would that slow down construction?” Aloy asked.
“It depends,” Avad said, “they have a lot of ideas.”
Avad wandered over to the edge of the balcony to lean against the railing.
“I must admit I am enjoying my new role as Chief Engineer as well as ruler of the Sundom,” he said with a smile. “Just now I was trying to make sense of their new design concept, trying to reconfigure the main bridges to also function structurally as aqueducts to improve design efficiencies. Not exactly something they teach you when you overthrow your father to rule a kingdom. But I digress, I did not ask you here to bore you with the complexities of civil engineering.”
Aloy shrugged her shoulders at Avad. “That one’s all yours.”
“I need to ask for your help again, Aloy,” Avad continued. “The purpose is two-fold. First, we need scrap for our reconstruction efforts. Second, our farmers need help reclaiming their lands before the first frost. We need the fields cleared of debris and ready for next spring’s planting. Thanks to your efforts, as well as the generosity of our neighbors, we have enough food stocks that should last until then.”
Avad lingered a little too long on the word “should” and Aloy notified a suppressed flash of worry cross his face.
“The sooner seeds can go in the ground, the sooner Meridian’s citizens will be back on their feet,” he said, pointing his chin at the horizon.
“So, what do you need from me?” Aloy asked. She was no farmer, Avad certainly knew this.
“There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of machines littering the fields of the Maizelands,” he said. “Our farmers are gifted at harvesting crops, but most of them don’t know the first thing about harvesting parts and scrap from a machine. I need your help, along with a team of volunteers, to clear the fields. I’m asking you specifically because I know how talented you are, and no one else has more experience with these deathbringers. If anyone can figure out how to scrap them, and teach others to help, it’s you.”
Aloy shifted her weight between her feet as she digested the request. Aloy understood the concern – while most machines were scrap and shards and occasionally usable resources, deathbringers seemed to be entirely weaponry. Aloy didn’t like the idea of a few dozen heavy cannons lose among the people of Meridian, assuming someone could remove them without accidently blowing themselves up. She had only scrapped two deathbringers during her travels – one at Maker's End and another in the Grave-Hoard – and had done so hastily, scrapping for value over firepower. What Avad was asking was something else altogether – something told her these machines weren’t designed to be taken apart easily.
“How many do you need me to train?” she asked.
“I will leave the final numbers up to you,” he responded, “but I suspect you will need at least a dozen able-bodied individuals. I can offer up some of the vanguard if Erend will permit their leave from regular duties. If you find they don’t provide enough we can post recruitment requests on the message boards around the city. I’m certain people are still eager to help, and many would not pass up an opportunity to learn from someone as skilled as you.”
“So assemble a team, train them, and clear the Maizelands of machines. Sounds easy enough.” Aloy said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Avad chuckled. “I thought you’d be up for the challenge.”
“I’ll work out a process for dropping off scrap at the mainforge in the lower city,” she said, “but what about any resources collected from the machines?”
“Any shards and viable machine parts you scrap will be pooled and distributed fairly to those most impacted by the destruction. I have a few people already working on assessing lost property and materials, they will be responsible for distribution. As for the deathbringers, however, I leave the use of their harvested pieces to your judgement,” Avad said.
“Understood,” Aloy responded. “Remind me again how long we have until first frost? Erend is helping me with Carja culture but we haven’t gotten to seasons yet.”
Avad’s eyes brightened at her comment. “About a month, give or take,” he said, waited a beat, then continued. “And how is Erend’s teaching?”
Aloy grinned in response. “Well we’ve gone through most of the fruit in the marketplace, it’s been a little challenging with rations in place but Erend always seems to find a new one somewhere. I know the city layout a lot better thanks to him, he’s shown me more than what I discovered on my own when I passed through before.”
“I’m glad for that,” Avad said, “Erend is a great leader and tour guide is an excellent addition to his list of talents. I’ve noticed he’s more present and prideful in his job duties since the battle. I’m not sure if that’s because he’s glad the threat of the Eclipse has been dealt with, or because he’s glad for someone else to spend time with.”
Aloy felt her cheeks grow hot as she avoided Avad’s eyes. “It’s not like that,” she said, unsure why she suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation.
“I wasn’t implying...” Avad said, chuckling at her reaction. “All I’m saying is that both you and Erend are important to me and I want only happiness for each of you. After the past few months you both deserve it. And with that, I’m going to be late for my afternoon advisory session with Marad, although knowing him he’s already well aware I’m running behind schedule.”
Aloy gave Avad a nod as he turned and disappeared beyond the edge of the balcony.
- - - - -
Well, we have been spending a lot of time together, Aloy thought as she wove through the early-evening crowds that filled the main square.
There was the fact that they were living together. Not together together, Erend insisted that she sleep in the bed while he slept on a worn (but comfortable! he swore) mattress he dragged up from the vanguard barracks. It just made sense after the battle with HADES and the Eclipse. Every inn was full beyond capacity and despite everyone knowing her, Aloy only knew and trusted a few people in Meridian. Erend practically put her over his shoulder the first night, she was that exhausted from a full day of hard fighting, and insisted she get some rest. After that, Aloy didn’t see the point in making a change and their arrangement very quickly became an easy routine.
She opened the front door to Erend's house and walked in, dropped her satchel and kicking off her shoes.
Aloy sincerely appreciated having a space away from the favor-seeking Carja nobles and the whispers of “Anointed” that followed her from the Nora still in Meridian. She and Erend took most of their evening meals together, either at home or out at one of the taverns with some vanguard friends. Their days were busy and rarely overlapped so meals and evenings were never short on conversation. Most evenings found Aloy sitting at the table restringing her bow or tripcaster while Erend busied himself over a pot of stew containing whatever game she had brought home.
Home, she stopped and caught herself. When did I start thinking of this as home?
Aloy shook her head and forced that strange feeling in her stomach when she thought about Erend and home down and away again.
Lots to do, she thought, sitting down at the table and tapping her focus, and only a month before the first frost. Time to get moving.
- - - - -
A few days later, Aloy knelt in a field under the midday sun. She wiped the sweat from her brow more often than she normally did - maybe it was because of the heat, or maybe it was because of the thirteen sets of eyes intently watching her every movement.
She turned her wrist sharply and pulled up on the knife handle, cleanly splitting the last bundle of braiding. With her free hand she removed the watcher’s heart, a fist-sized cube with intricate silver and green lines tracing each of the sides. She sat back on her heels and held up the heart for the group to see.
“Alright. Those are the basics but the best way to learn is through practice,” Aloy said to the group. “Everyone pair up and do your best stripping the watchers around this field. Make sure you have all the tools between the both of you, I’ll check on your progress in a little while.”
Pairs of Oseram vanguard and Carja citizens wandered off into the field, chatting quietly and, thankfully, still eager to undertake this daunting task.
“Alright partner, tell me how you want these pieces sorted,” Erend asked.
Aloy’s heart brightened as Erend knelt next to her. His help in recruiting some of the more veteran scrappers from the vanguard ranks had been invaluable. The handful of Carja who offered their services were also turning out to be a capable bunch. Aloy hadn’t expected him to, but was pleasantly surprised with Erend volunteered himself for the job as well. Something about “wanting to keep an eye on things” and to “make sure his people weren’t slacking off” but Aloy suspected he had other motives. She was just as happy to have him here, however, and wasn’t going to call him out on it. This time.
Erend gathered the pieces of scrap as she peeled them from the watcher’s body, filling a moderately-sized wooden hand cart. Aloy had to do some serious haggling, along with fulfilling a request that involved finding a few rabbit skins, but she was able to procure a handful of sturdy wooden carts. She’d also worked with Erend and the head forgeman in Meridian to assemble a set of tools for each volunteer - sharp knives, a set of small chisels, and some sort of small pointed tongs normally used in forge work that Aloy noted would have been very helpful when she was first learning.
She made quick work of the rest of the watcher’s body, splitting off pieces of armor with her knife as easily as her tear arrows took plates off a bellowback or a snapmaw. Erend kept up with her pace, filling the cart with the dismantled scrap while the valuable pieces – not many on a watcher but every bit counted – he set aside.
Finished, Aloy sat for a moment to catch her breath and took a long sip from her water flask. Erend settled on the ground next to her, absently turning the watcher lens over in his hands.
“Rost must have been one heck of a teacher. I’ve seen a lot of skilled scrappers in my time but how... efficiently... you clean a machine. Its impressive, Aloy,” Erend said. “Does your focus thing help?”
“Sometimes,” Aloy responded, “but at this point it’s mostly muscle memory.”
“What do you do with all the parts you’ve harvested? Gods you must have hundreds of pieces by now!” Erend said, shaking his head.
“Well I can only carry so much,” Aloy said, “I wasn’t raised on that hearty Oseram diet like some people.”
“Say what you will, but I can carry, like, four of these hammers if needed,” Erend said in his best mocking tone.
Aloy grinned and continued. “I sell what I know I can’t use or carry. I turn most of the elemental resources into augmented arrows or sling ammo. Some of it, I can’t explain it well, but I feel like I should hold on to? Maybe I think it will be useful later…”
Erend held up the watcher lens to his eye like a spyglass. “Ah yes. Such use. Much good.”
Aloy rolled her eyes, unable to hold in her laughter and threw the closed water flask at Erend. “Oh stop,” she said. “Let’s go check on everyone’s progress.”
- - - - -
Everyone agreed early on that the best use of time and resources was for teams of volunteers to dismantle and clear the lesser corrupted machines, leaving the disarming of any deathbringers to Aloy. As they discovered deactivated deathbringers, Aloy would spend the morning stripping its weaponry components. Once rendered safe, the group could work as a whole after lunch or the next day to disassemble and scrap the rest of the body. It was a little cumbersome, but it the most efficient arrangement Aloy could come up with that put the fewest number of people in potential danger.
Once proficient at scrapping the smaller machines, Aloy took the group to the base of the spire to practice scrapping a deathbringer together as a team. She’d done considerable damage to that particular unit during the battle with HADES so most of the heavy artillery was already stripped off. It took the better part of an afternoon for everyone to get the technique down – the rivets and fasteners that held a deathbringer together seemed to be much heartier than those of regular machines – but eventually the beast lay in sorted piles of scrap, shards, and resources. Satisfied, Aloy outlined the plan for the rest of the work.
Using a detailed map of the Maizelands provided by city engineers, each pair set out in the morning to scrap and clear machines a different farmstead. Everyone regrouped at lunch to share the midday meal together and to make notations on the map for Aloy. Another few hours of scrapping in the afternoon of larger machines still left from the morning or any deathbringers Aloy had previously cleaned. At the end of each day scrap was carted back to the mainforge for melting and the salvageable resources put aside for Avad’s men. It was an impressive little operation, Aloy thought, and they might just be able to get everything cleared in time.
A few mornings into the operation, Aloy and Erend set out to the first found deathbringer. Dew clung to the grass as they crossed the field, dampening their ankles and shoes. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she stood in front of it – a full-sized, fully-armed deathbringer was still a formidable sight. Aloy heaved a breath to settle her heart rate and turned to Erend.
“You ready?” he asked.
“As much as I can be. I don’t want you within range in case something goes wrong,” Aloy said, “but I think I’d like it if you were still here. Nearby, somewhere. In case...”
“In case something goes wrong?” Erend offered.
“Yeah,” Aloy said, already feeling a little better.
“Of course,” Erend said. “Tell me what you need.”
- - - - -
Four weeks and two days later, as the last rays of the sun fell behind the tips of the western hills, Aloy, Erend, and their twelve volunteers-turned-friends raised their glasses in a celebratory toast. Avad stopped by the tavern to personally thank each of them before instructing the barkeep to send the evening’s tab to the palace for payment. Drinks were ordered, hot plates of food appeared, and loud, cheerful voices rang the length of the long wooden table.
One drink became two, two became four, and soon the room was bright and loud and full of laughter. Aloy took her time and sipped her ale slowly. She’d come a long way on enjoying the taste since she tried her first drink months ago but she was by no means an Oseram-level drinker. Erend, she noticed, slowed down after his second drink. Taking Ersa’s words to heart, she supposed, as she watched him heartily wave off an attempt by his vanguard second-in-command to bring him another round. She caught his eye from down the table and smiled, his goofy grin in return making her stomach turn in a way that felt oddly good.
Music started from some corner of the tavern and more drinks appeared. Aloy was coerced into telling the tale of fighting off glinthawks at Pitchcliff for the second time that night. Husbands, wives, and friends of the “Maizelands Cleanup Crew” as some of the members had started proudly calling themselves arrived to meet everyone they’d heard so much about over the past few weeks. Introductions were made, more food appeared, and storytelling continued late into the evening.
At some point several tables were cleared and the tavern floor filled with people drinking and dancing. Feeling her cheeks flush from the heat of the crowd and the bottom of her second ale, Aloy excused herself from a truthfully dull conversation about the history of Meridian architecture. Wandering through the crowd and out a side door, she found herself on a small stone terrace. Well-manicured bushes and planted flowers lined the interior perimeter while a thick stone railing lightly obstructed a view of lower Meridian and hills beyond. Tapping her focus, more out of instinct than necessity, she watched the outline of small rabbit dart under a bush and into a burrow.
Aloy sat on the railing and drew a cold breath through her nose. The night air was downright chilly – Aloy suspected the first frost would happen in the next few nights – but was a welcome respite from the heat and fullness of the tavern. The moon, barely a sliver, peeked out from behind a nearby roof. Soft light, muffled voices, and occasional notes of music drifted through the open doorway. Aloy closed her eyes and tilted her head back, soaking up the moment as if it were sunlight.
A few minutes passed before she heard someone clearing their throat.
“Am I interrupting?” the voice asked.
Backlit from the lanterns inside, the outline of a man leaned against the doorway. She knew it was him even before the small word “EREND” appeared, hovering next to his outlined frame. Smiling, she tapped her focus off.
“No, just taking a break,” she responded.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Aloy said, shaking her head but still smiling. “You look good – four weeks of pulling carts and hauling scrap was a good workout for you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Erend said, fake flexing as he spoke, “all the Meridian girls are wild about that ‘scrapper bod’ look I’ve got now.”
“Ah, should I be calling you Erend Scrappersman now?” she said, suppressing a laugh – Erend didn’t need any more encouragement.
“Well thanks to you I may need a second job. I suspect vanguard life will get kind of boring without Shadow Carja, Eclipse, and corrupted machines to keep us busy,” he said.
“I guess you’re welcome,” Aloy responded.
A comfortable silence settled over them as Erend walked the length of the terrace to join her on the railing.
“So, now what?” Erend asked, quietly. “The city is nearly put back together. I think I know you well enough to suspect that means you’ll be looking for other ways to be helpful. Will it be in Meridian, or somewhere else?”
It was a weighted question, Aloy knew that, but Erend did know her well enough. She could feel a restlessness beginning to settle inside her, still small and uncertain but she knew couldn’t let it fester for too long.
“I don’t know, Erend,” she responded, truthfully. “I have some ideas but nothing definite and nothing soon.”
Even in the dim moonlight Aloy could tell Erend was relieved at her answer.
“I can’t promise I’ll stay here forever,” she said, “but I’ll always find a reason to come back.”
“Fair enough,” Erend said, standing.
“Since we’re here together now, we might as well celebrate that while we can. Dance with me?” he asked, holding out his hand with a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
The request caught Aloy by surprise and she burst out laughing.
“I can try,” she said, taking his hand, “but I am not going to be good at it.”
“Somebody, write this down, quick,” Erend called out in fake urgency, “the first thing on the list of Aloy’s weaknesses – dancing!”
They laughed together as Erend spun her around the small terrace, their feet moving clumsily but without regard, not really trying to match the faint beat of the music playing inside. Tiring quickly from laughter and ale, their dancing became more a slow drift together. By the end they were standing together in the center of the terrace, Erend’s arms folded protectively around her shoulders and Aloy’s ear pressed against Erend’s chest, listening with eyes closed to the dull thud of his heart.