Battle Hymn of the Republic

“She’s already kept us from killing each other,” added Smart, weaving a strand of her hair out from the front of her face, “Isn’t that enough of a change?”

A cold air blew through the garden, billowing petals from the near-by flowering trees between them. For a moment, there was a peaceful aura that reigned in the space, and it gave Creative time to think of something to say. Even as the thundering came closer, the three of them seemed at ease.

“The world starts over?” asked Clever, her eyes growing wide.

“I had my theories, but I think we aren’t the first,” explained Smart.

“There is only one constant in this world,” stated Creative.

“The man that raised us…” concluded Smart.

Clever looked to Willow, her brow furrowing, “Then we better make sure he’s not the only constant; we owe it to our creations.”

Then, Creative laughed, spreading his wings wide, causing Smart and Clever to jump.

“Your spirit is infectious, Metaleater; Wild card,” he spoke with much more zest, “is that your spin on the variable? Wanting to throw yourself in, no matter how little chance? It’s so silly, but I can not deny the heart in it. I knew you were special, from the moment you came wandering into our village. Dagni, she was right about you.”

The crack of a rifle drew their attention back up at the top of the mountain, as the lights of fire and gunnery cracked at the peak. A white and a red form were locked in brutal combat, and were trading blows down the slope. As they moved, the rocks beneath them reshaped and move like water ebbing away from them. Their strikes tore rifts through creation, disturbing the fabric that was holding the Elementalia together.

“So,” Smart came to Willow’s side first, still watching the battle unfold, “what’s your plan? How are you going to get up there and stop them?”

A little orange blur zipped up to them, fluttering on faerie wings. It was Jakku, and she was frantically waving at Willow for her attention. She pointed up at the top of the mountain, and then down at the grass where she hovered over. Then, she zipped over the grass, dragging her finger behind herself before pointing it up at Willow, making a wide, swift gesture with her arms. At that, she flew off, getting out of the way as fast as she could.

“Was that construct flying around without a lattice?” asked Clever, to which Smart shrugged, looking equally confused.

“I’m terrible at charades,” Willow muttered as she cocked her head at the retreating faerie. Best she could figure, the little sprite was telling her shit was going down and her clock was running out. Or in other words, pitter patter. The momentary confusion burned away with the heat of Willow’s metals and the sheer feeling of hope that was welling up in her as she realized something. Right this instant, she was the most fully equipped allomancer in history. No other had the spread of capabilities that she possessed, and now she was bringing that arsenal to bear against a couple of demi-gods battling above a mountain to help save a world. She felt like a badass. Without realizing it, her Zinc had begun Rioting Hope in the general area, as if she literally couldn’t contain the feeling.

“Smart; getting up there is going to be the easiest thing I’ve done all day,” Willow gave the Artisan a broad smile as she dropped a bearing behind her, and then she flared Mithril and Steel. Willow soared. Like dart she began her assent up the mountain, throwing out more bearings to correct her flight as even light breezes could push her off course. It wasn’t the most efficient way for her travel, but it was the fastest; and with the game clock counting down she didn’t want to waste precious time coin jumping. As she drew closer to the fight she prepared her introduction to this battle titans. One more push with a bearing and she locked on target for a collision course with Diligence, and at the same time she found a Steel line to Noble’s weapons. Then just before striking like a rocket Willow dropped her burn on Mithril and flared Ivorium and Pewter, then a flare of Steel slammed a push back by Willow’s drastically enhanced weight against the man’s weapons.

At this instant Willow was a bundle of barely bridled potential energy desperately looking to become kinetic, and Diligence and Noble were in the way.

The winds became harder and harder to fight against as Willow scaled the mountain at high speed. Gusts spoke of coming clouds, darkening the edge of the horizon, leaving the sun to watch the Allomancer’s back as she fired up to the peak of Dyrnwyn. Coming into view were two demi-gods, Diligence and Noble, each locked in the fight of their lives. All pretense had seemed to go out the window, with even Noble pressing with as much fury as his broken body would allow.

Diligence was rising over Noble to strike him, a hit that would have knocked him down the mountain. Instead, Willow struck him instead, sending the Foreman sprawling over the rocks of the chilly peak. Noble dropped his weapons and collapsed, supporting himself as best he could.

The Forge God was the picture of health, literally glowing from within. Noble, on the other hand was battered, beaten and dragging one of his legs. Whatever he had done to hold Diligence off, it didn’t help him.

Willow’s surprise attack bought her a moment before Diligence furious cast her off.

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” he yelled, his shoulders erupting a billowing hood of fire, “I am about to serve this schmuck to the glue factory and you’re pokin’ around again? Don’t you have anything else to do? I almost smacked him straight down into tha’ garden, right on the Guide’s doorstep. I’m puttin’ him up t’be judged.”

Noble wheezed, as he pulled hard on his breastplate to reverse some fist-shaped damage.

“Willow,” grunted the centaur, trying to catch his breath, “Thank you… I think I… was a little… short-sighted…”

“Then yield!” Willow barked at Noble. “I’m here to help the both o’ ya, so stow the thanks.”

Then she turned her attention to Diligence.

Under any other circumstances, such as the world not about to end and a man not about to die, Willow would have been rooting for Diligence; and in fact she felt like she kind of was. This was too important, too dire, to let ride. So for as mad as Diligence was bound to be at her she knew she needed to put her foot down and stop this. She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers, and extinguished all of her metals except for one; Brass. She Soothed every emotion she could think of, and the overlap created a wave of apathy. Then she burned Duralumin, turning that apathy into a sucker punch of sheer emotional numbness.

“Diligence, please,” the tone Willow used was uncharacteristically soft, with just enough force to be heard over the wind. “You are a good man, but if you keep this up… if you keep trying to solve this with rage, everyone is going to suffer; your quarrids will suffer. I know its not what you want to hear, and I know how much the thought of it pains you; but the only way this can end well is to stop fighting.”

To symbolize her point one of Willow’s hands let go before she moved in to give the Artisan a hug. She left her metals off. No emotional manipulation, no altering the man to gain an edge, and no Pewter to enhance her fortitude if this went wrong. As a result, this hug was painful. For while Willow was not really a hugger she fully committed to this action, and locked the shorter man into as firm an embrace as she could manage; and to risk thinking the double entendre, Diligence was hot. Like, scalding. It felt like she was hugging a casserole dish that had just recently been removed from the cooker, but still she committed. Right now, all that mattered was that this Artisan, who had spent so long alone in his despair, knew that she was here for him.

“Don’t do it for Noble. Don’t do it for the other Artisans. Not for the Guide, or whatever. Do it for the ones you care about, and the world you’ve helped build.”

Pain was overriding Willow’s senses, as embracing Diligence was like embracing a blistering forge. The power of entire stars burned inside of him, a power that a normal human wouldn’t be able to stand up to. As heat flashed over her, her mind faded into darkness for a moment.

Then, there was a flash of a couple of young boys running down the length of a creek, one with a thick iron collar, the other racing ahead on horse legs.

Another vision struck her mind as the two sparred with sticks in a field.

A light blinded her, as the sun gave way to another scene, of the two assembling simple homes. The centaur boy was holding a series of plans, where the collared boy carried bricks.

In another blossom of color she saw them older, teenagers, as they were now, riding an assault into a wave of wraiths.

Finally, her mind nearly gave way as a painful glut of emotion struck her. The two boys stood across from each other in a wide hall, Noble had his rifle leveled at Diligence. Neither of them filled with the conviction she had seen, but neither able to stand down.

Heat gave way to the cool sensation that followed such intense warmth, and Willow was back upon the mountain. The growing wind blew her hair over the two of them, giving a protective veil over the weeping demi-god she held. Iron hands clenched fistfuls of her coat, a tremor of emotions shaking loose years of suffering inside him. As much as he grit his teeth, he couldn’t fight the feeling that Willow had summoned.

“I don’ want this,” the admission brought as much comfort as it shook him, “I neva’ wanted this.”

A hand rested on Willow’s shoulder, and a bolt of energy coursed through her body, mending the burns on her chest. Noble had drugged himself up to the two, his face beaten by battle and grief.

“Diligence,” rasped the Captain, “I’m sorry… you were my brother… and I…”

THOCK! An iron fist struck Noble’s face, nearly knocking the Captain out cold, before that same hand pulled him in.

“You are m’brother,” declared Diligence, embracing both Willow and Noble.

“So…” Willow began to speak, panting as she collected herself after the excruciating experience. A part of her found an irony in the thought that her magic involved burning metals, and yet she hated heat. Getting burnt? The worst. She’d rather get a cut than a burn. Stowing her pride now that the emotional outreach was taken care of, Willow flared Pewter for a few seconds. Sure, Diligence had already healed her, but a part of her felt like she could still feel that heat. Pewter helped, and after the moment she reduced the burn down to a smolder. “That’s what they mean by friendship is magic. Yall good? We good? World ain’t ending? Punches stopped being thrown?”

“Sure,” scoffed Diligence, giving the wounded Noble another punch in the ribs. The centaur stumbled back on the ground, but looking all the more relieved that the one-sided fight was not going further and further downhill.

“Willow, I’m sorry… we drug you into this…” rasped Noble, struggling to get to his hooves, “... but thank you for persisting…”

“Shit.”

“What?”

The Forge God had risen to the edge of the ridge leading down to the garden where the others were. He looked aghast, raising his hands, as if trying to draw some new idea in his mind. When it became apparent that nothing would arise, he finally spoke.

“It’s Dad, he’s down there wit’… Is that everyone!?”

Noble worked his way over to the edge, just barely peeking.

“He’s looking up here. Do you think he knows?”

“He knows fuckin’ somethin’.”

The two artisans looked at eachother, and then they looked at Willow.

“If Dad figures out we’ve been killin’ each other, that’s it for us.”

A side-long look on a cocked head signaled Willow’s disbelief in listening to these two Artisans. Then with a roll of her eyes she waved dismissively at the conversation in general. Following Diligence’s gaze down the slope Willow burned Tin and shielded her eyes as she looked back at the Garden. This was followed by a jab to the short god’s shoulder.

“Bad news, Junior. I think y’ur da’ already knows,” Willow stuck one hand in her coat pocket while the other raised to crack her neck. Following the audible pop, she turned to Noble. “You weren’t the ones who drug me into anything, by the by. It’s equal parts myself and the old man down there. He asked me to help, and I’m too stubborn to quit. So save the sorry for more deserving parties.”

The last bit was accompanied by a punctuated nod towards Diligence.

“But yeah, we got a party going downstairs, and I just drew the straw to come and break up you’s two’s pillow fight. So how’s’bout we go join the others?”

“I shoulda’ put ya head in the ground while I had the chance,” grumbled Diligence as he began to force Noble’s head into the ground. Not to take these things lying down, the Forge God got a horse kick that stumbled him back and then another that sent him flying.

“Then it is only…” Noble wheezed, standing, “a matter of how much the Lord knows… It is… to be expected… that he would…”

Finally having enough of it, Noble began loosing the straps of his breastplate, doffing it. When he came to the last clasp, the armor crashed to the ground, revealing a matted gambeson beneath. “It is to be expected that he would anticipate us. Lead the way, we’ll follow.”

Diligence ripped his head out of the rocks, “You were holding back!”

“Maybe I should have tried a hug.”

There wasn’t much more than that, as the three descended in their own ways. Diligence threw himself down the hill like a boulder, bounding down. Noble carefully moved himself down. He was the slowest by far without a wing, so much so that there were four artisans waiting for him by the time he had come down. Smart wasted no time at coming to his side, reprimanding him for his foolishness, whereas Noble tried to remind her of where they were.

These powerful beings, these makers of life, these shapers of realities looked like nervous teenagers, like Safeholme students caught in the midst of their shenanigans. For once, Mr. Caxton didn’t look out of place. Creative was the first try explaining the situation.

“Wasn’t that a great show? I think we went too far with the fight scene...”

Then Clever jumped in, “... I think the boys have always been a bit overzealous…”

Smart stammered, “... these injuries aren’t anything I can’t handle…”

Even Diligence played along, looking aside, “... not my fault that Noble’s outta practice…”

They all looked at Noble, who stood over them all, ashamed. His lips were pursed tightly, and all of the other artisans began to pale as they realized the Justicar of the Elementalia was incapable of deceit.

Then, Mr. Caxton raised a hand, right as Noble began to speak. The wind died, and so did the wills of the five, awoken artisans of the Elementalia.

“Willow,” came the Alchemist’s umbral voice, a sound that could have been mistaken for softness if you didn’t know the man making it, “can you explain?”

Ten divine eyes fell upon the Allomancer in a mix of hope and apprehension.

Willow had descended the slope with a bit more grace than Diligence through a combination of Pewter and Mithril. With Mithril on a light burn, Willow leapt like an astronaut on the moon; a single push propelling her in a steady arch down the mountain. The primary perk for her was that it was a rather relaxing way for her to travel, and after the last few days or even the last hour Willow felt like making a stroll of this. Once she neared the garden, she once again shot a bearing into the grass, upped the burn on Mithril, and pulled herself to the ground; dropping Mithril and pulling the bearing back against her as she straightened her hat. From here, she opted to stand off to the side a bit as the Artisans stood before Mister Caxton, content with knowing she wasn’t going to get dragged into this next… never mind.

Looking to chew on the question for a few moments, Willow looked around at the individuals gathered. How had this lot gotten so old, relatively, and still found themselves looking at her. Did she lie and help the Artisans like a group of kids who’d accidentally cracked a cricket ball through a neighbor’s window? Or did she nark? Was it even narking? After all, Mister Caxton seemed perfectly aware of the situation when he’d given her an action report down to the minute of the situation she needed to stop. She sucked on her teeth with an audible tsk as she took her hat off and scratched her head. Then with a sigh she replaced the hat crossed her arms before staring down the audience of gods.

“Fights happen, guys, especially when tensions are high. Rather than dancing around it, own it, and focus on the fact that y’all are standing in the same place without so much as bickering. That’s some growth, from what I’ve heard and seen,” Willow began by addressing the Artisans, then turned her attention towards Percy. “Situation’s been dealt with, and I think I did pretty good with the Time Trial. Everyone’s here, no one’s dead, and Noble and Diligence even hugged. It’s true, I saw it. Do I get a gold star?”