"Ramos." 

"Ramos."

"Ramos!" 

Hearing my name screamed over the sound of my inscriber I quickly finished the stroke engraving another line into the metal before shutting off my equipment. I turned around and through my amber lensed goggles I made out the form of an old hunched over man with his signature look of displeasure plastered on his face and the bronze owl automaton perched on his shoulder that cocked its head to stare at me. 

"Master Rantu, what a pleasant surprise. Is there a reason you've decided to drop by my lowly workshop?" I asked as I took off my protective eyewear and stood. 

The old man opened his mouth to respond when I saw his eyes glance over my shoulder and he froze on the spot, "Ramos what in the endless dunes are you working on?!" 

Any hopes I had of avoiding a lecture were dashed in an instant as Master Rantu shuffled past me to inspect the fruits of my labor. 

"Is that a harvester? And it's been modified, did you do this?!" Master Rantu peered over the vaguely humanoid machine with two collapsible arms that had previously been used to pick ripe duragn from the towering Tuwac tree. Now two spike mauls replaced its hands. 

My silence was all the answer Master Rantu needed and he spun on me as his look of displeasure turned into one of righteous fury, "I had heard rumors from some of the other professors, but this is far worse than I ever imagined. You know the Institution's stance on weapons research." 

"That is a stupid old rule made nearly one hundred years ago. Besides, this is just a theory piece, a slight breeze will cause it to collapse." I retorted while gesturing at the humanoid contraption. 

"That stupid old rule is the reason why Elysire has been without war for nearly one hundred years!" Master Rantu snapped.

I seethed with anger but managed not to raise my voice, "The sands are changing Master Rantu, you've heard about what's happening in the Oroen Empire. They've lost in their crusade against the Dark Lands and are selling their worshippers to the Mal Fae. We need to prepare ourselves-" 

"For what," Master Rantu interrupted his voice filled with a withering cold, "What great apocalypse do you foresee Ramos? You think that just because you are gifted in the mind you know all! If even the smallest rumor spreads that Elysire is researching magical armaments, every local power will use it as justification to invade our lands." 

"But Master Rantu-" 

"NO!" 

The old man's chest heaved as he shouted at the top of his lungs, "You will stop this foolishness at once! Or I will see to it that your scholarship is revoked." 

Deflating under his withering stare I dipped my head in defeat. For a moment nothing but the heavy breath of Master Rantu filled the silent workshop. 

"I don't understand you are the youngest student to ever grace these halls. Imagine all the good you can give to the world. Instead, like a petulant child, you think violence is the answer to everything!" Master Rantu's spat and I watched as smoke poured forth from his lips filling the room in a thick obscuring cloud. 

A hacking cough rattled my chest as I fell to my knees with eyes burning from the smog. Through tearful eyes I picked up my head and watched as the walls of my workshop crumbled to pieces turning into rubble and revealing the remains of a city on fire. 

Thick clouds of smoke billowed into the air from fires that clawed at buildings that had stood for hundreds of years. And the sound of cold metal chains rattling filled me with dread.

Before I could find the strength to stand, a fierce golden light fell over me. Turning to see what was shining so brilliantly I froze as a gleaming metal speartip hovered mere inches away from my face. 

The golden light wasn't coming from the weapon however but the gauntleted fist that gripped the ivory shaft. Following the arm up I stared at the naked face of the Champion unobscured by a helmet, I don't know what I expected to find in his eyes, perhaps hesitation, anger or bloodlust. But the world around me froze as I took in the uncaring visage staring down at me, it wasn't cruel or malicious, simply unfeeling as if I wasn't worthy enough to invoke his emotions. 

A bead of sweat rolled down my face and into my eye making me blink. As I opened my eyes the spear head lanced forward moments away from ending my life. 

As always I jolted awake from the nightmare hours before the work bell had rang signaling the start of the day. A cold sweat covered my body as the last vestiges of my dream played over and over again in my mind.

Before my eyes even had a chance to open I slid out from underneath my covers exposing my body to the cold stale air. I had learned that moving my body was one of the quickest ways to dispel whatever hold my dreams had over me. 

Swinging my feet over the edge of my cot I pushed myself off the ratty mattress and fell the few feet to land on the floor below with a soft thud. 

Still half blind I walked through the cramped barracks tripping over work boots and harness thrown half haphazardly on the floor. But my steps never faltered, always finding a way to catch myself and stay upright. 

Eventually I arrived at the foot of the only single bed in the barrack where a massive hulking form rested barely covered by the thin sheet we were given to stave off the cold that rose and fell with each breath. 

"Boss," My voice was barely a whisper but a deep rumbling sigh filled the room nevertheless, "Alright boys up and at'em. We roll out at first toll."