"Old Freddy, we've got news for the Watcher," a group of stragglers approached a deserted corner in the slums, where old Frederick sat silently, habitually contemplating his future path while simultaneously guarding the courtyard a little beyond.
Frederick frowned deeply and said, "You've been reporting nothing but useless whispers for the past two weeks, the Watcher is very displeased by your performance lately…"
The group's frail bodies shook, fidgeting about as they competed among themselves, each pushing forward the next to report today's news.
Eventually, the weakest, and coincidentally the youngest, was pushed to the ground to serve as the spokesman.
He scrambled to his feet, fumbled with the tattered makeshift of pants he wore, and said, "The ruffians are going to fight it out for the butchery this evening! The fight breaks out in the ruined old district near 7th Street, most of the elites will be around!"
Frederick rushed to his feet and grasped the young man by the shoulders, questioning in a stern tone of voice, "Are you certain, young man?"
"I-I'm certain," stuttered out the young man. "Words on the streets are heated, ruffians all around the town are gearing up in due haste, Old Freddy…"
"Good news!" Frederick mumbled in a low voice with a lowered head for a moment.
Then, he spoke up, "Go and gather some well-fed men, at least ten of them!"
Frederick then turned his back to the group and started rushing his way into the courtyard. For an old man like him, his movements were indescribably smooth, not unlike a healthy man in his late forties.
The closer he got to the heart of the courtyard, the calmer his emotions were, and the steadier his steps became. Slowly, Frederick entered within close proximity to Aza'zel who was routinely performing the twelve martial forms.
Frederick never grew tired of watching this cycle of punching, kicking, kiting, and evading while ghost boxing.
Aza'zel didn't only notice the sudden entry, but he had long since heard the conversation from the outside.
"That kid is too thin," Aza'zel said while practicing diligently. "Reward him with an extra rodent on his daily rations."
For the past two weeks, the stragglers would bring back rodents for Aza'zel, and after he wrung them dry of blood that would otherwise prove poisonous for regular men, the stragglers would benefit greatly by roasting the leftover meat.
Frederick wasn't surprised at all that Aza'zel could determine the appearance of whoever stopped outside the courtyard. His job as a guard was no more than a token of special status, revealing to the world that he was the person under the Watcher's direct command.
Precisely because of this mysterious ability to see everything around him that the stragglers named Aza'zel 'The Watcher', and partly because he decided to confer them the title 'Watchmen.'
Frederick fixed his posture and spoke, "As you wish, Master. As you already know, I have put word for the men to assemble, and if we strike tonight, we can empty out their coffers for the next season."
Aza'zel didn't reply immediately, but sank into thoughts until he finished the last form of the stance, and only when his muscles relaxed, a robust wave of source energy exploded forth, overwhelming Frederick momentarily as it receded into the source crystal.
Aza'zel realized that the longer his sessions lasted, the higher momentum and greater volume of source energy would compress on his frame.
Although he could maintain his muscles on high tension and release the accumulated energy in a burst of power when necessary, that would also expose his talent for evolution.
Thus, for now, at the very least, he could only allow the energy to disperse and subsequently allow the source crystal to absorb it.
The invisible pressure pushed Frederick two steps back, and as he inhaled a deep breath, his eyes glowed fervently, so much that the old man almost tossed himself to the ground.
Aza'zel stated, "Consider everything went smoothly and we secured the rations," he paused, then asked. "Where do we store them? How do we protect them? And most importantly, how are you planning to keep the operation a secret?"
Aza'zel never believed in the loyalty of these stragglers.
Well, not most of them, at the very least. For example, he could trust someone like Frederick, and the young among them, but the hearts of cowardly adults are quite fickle. The stragglers from that one evening didn't spill a word about Aza'zel and his abilities, while the rest of them simply listen to Frederik because they respect the old man and because the old man provides rations in return.
Rats they might be, but they're still rations. Edible stuff.
Frederick felt stumped for a response, as he hadn't gotten the chance to think that far yet. Aza'zel might be lacking in mortal wisdom, but he never failed to consider the future consequences of his actions, no matter how small they are.
It was just a lesson taught verbally by Rebecca and practiced with Caidie through games like chess.
A ruthless glint flickered in Frederick's eyes as he suddenly said, "We could force loyalty onto them, Master."
Aza'zel paused, not having expected such an answer as he didn't think something like loyalty could be forced upon someone. The land swayed beneath his feet while he waited for an explanation.
Frederick crouched and touched the ground. "The brittle foundations of this town make for a great shock conduit, not to mention the damage in the wake of that minor earthquake a fortnight back."
Frederick paused for a moment, then looked into the distance while muttering, "It has begun."
At the extremes of his hazy sight, a pillar of smoke rose to the skies, followed by a second and a third.
Following a twitch of his ears, Aza'zel faced the direction of the fighting and asked, "You said that the elite corps of every Raksha are gathering for this war?"
Frederick hurriedly affirmed. "Yes, Master! If we want to strike a strategic resource location, now is the time to do so! I have a plan to make sure these stragglers are tied to us after the operation."
Aza'zel thought for a moment and said, "Very well, you can go ahead with your plan… As for me, I have something else in mind."
Frederick wanted to ask how they would get the operation done without assistance from a powerful combatant force, but Aza'zel had already turned his head away to leave.
During the past two weeks, Frederick would take Aza'zel through the town periodically, just so the latter could get used to the structure of the twelve districts.
At this point, he no longer needed someone's guidance for directions if he wished to go anywhere within this small town, not to mention how his destination wasn't that far.
Frederick reached out with his old, skinny hand as if to say something, but he could only sigh as he watched the silhouette of the young boy disappear from sight.
"He changed a little… Didn't he?"
Frederick muttered, feeling as though something about the way this young man conducted himself from his temperament to his actions kept shifting back and forth at irregular intervals.
Although he couldn't pinpoint exactly what changed or how, it felt as though a shadow of a thousand personas loomed over the young man.
"Whatever," Frederick shrugged his rusty shoulders and slouched over as he walked outside. "This is going to be one long night, I say…"