## Story 1 ![16-1.png](/uploads/16_1_b504c31939.png) The former prince flees his kingdom, and the clockwork man follows.
Danger pursues them like a hooded wraith,
the rising sun of each day drawing back the curtain on a new fevered dream of horror.

This day, the pair finds themselves in the ruins of a castle—the former stronghold of a once-proud
nation that now lies forgotten on the ash heap of history.
As pursuing clockwork soldiers enter the ruins, the boy and his retainer fight them off
one after the next. During a particularly fierce skirmish,
one of these pursuers burns the retainer's hand.

Their enemies are mass-produced clockwork soldiers featuring the newest and best technology
the kingdom has to offer. The man is an older model, and though he has never once failed to
protect the boy, each victory is hard-fought, the margin thin as the edge of a knife.
But in addition to being more advanced, their new enemy is equipped with the latest weaponry,
and shows no sign of relenting.
The duo's only advantage is their intimate knowledge of the castle's layout.

As the retainer skillfully slips into the shadows, he makes a signal to the prince, who holds his breath.
Their window for victory is a hair. An eyelash. A whisper.
The moment the enemy turns his back, the retainer dashes forward.
By the time he realizes something is amiss, the clockwork man's weapon is drawn.

The dry crack of a gunshot echoes around the crumbling walls of the ruins.
Another narrow victory is theirs. He turns to the boy and sees relief wash over his young features.
But then, he senses something overwhelming approaching from afar.
Glancing out a nearby window, he sees a force of clockwork soldiers on the march,
their numbers stretching off to the horizon. ## Story 2 ![16-2.png](/uploads/16_2_a5c47755c4.png) The former prince and the clockwork man hide themselves near the castle rear
gate to discuss strategy. The man suggests a ruse wherein he draws the enemy's
attention so the boy might escape. But the prince will not hear of it.

"No. I won't leave you to die. We fight together." The boy puts all of his strength
into this statement, hoping to overwhelm his companion into acquiescence.
But the man simply shakes his head.

"This enemy is beyond any we have yet faced.
I cannot protect you and hope to defeat them at the same time."
It is a cold and bitter analysis. After a moment, the boy reluctantly accepts
the truth of it. He hefts a bag filled with his few meager possessions over
his shoulder and slips through the back gate.

"I'll meet you in the next town," he says. "We'll go on from there."

A slight smile washes over his face before he slips off into the dark. I must survive,
thinks the man. He makes his way forward with sure and powerful steps.
He is ready to lay all on the line so the boy's great cause might yet become reality.
I must protect him. I must ensure he lives.
And with these thoughts echoing through his mind, the man sets off for war. ## Story 3 ![16-3.png](/uploads/16_3_51ee616e4e.png) The castle ruins are a fog of gunpowder haze and flying lead.
The enemy's plan is clear: strike fast and hard, and damn their own losses.
Their numbers are staggering. Their power unimaginable.
They move as one, an unstoppable wave that seeks only to destroy.

Bullets enough to blot out the sun fly over the man's position without pause.
He is badly injured, and bleeding from countless wounds.
But he has learned many things on his travels,
and possesses knowledge his enemies do not.
He knows things—ways to escape situations that would prove fatal for any other.
So as the bullets rage, a desperate flame sparks to life in the deepest part of his soul,
and he redoubles his efforts.

Finally, silence descends over the ruins,
leaving only the hollow click of his own gun as it cycles one final time through a
now-empty chamber. Before him lies a mountain of motionless clockwork soldiers.
He is near the edge of exhaustion; the edge of death. And yet, somehow, he has won.

A beat. He is a moment too slow. One clockwork soldier, one survivor, leaps out from
behind a wall in ambush.
The enemy aims his weapon at the small spot between the man's eyes.
And though he understands what is happening, he cannot move.

The damage is too much, he thinks calmly.
The neural connection to my motor functions has been severed.
Farewell, my prince. With that, the man surrenders his future.
A single gunshot rings out, scattering any possible resignation to the winds. ## Story 4 ![16-4.png](/uploads/16_4_ef0007fb4a.png) The bullet leaves the chamber and enters the heart...
The heart of the enemy who had ambushed the clockwork man.
The enemy staggers, confused. For the shot that had laid him low...

...came from the weapon of the young prince.
In his hand is one of the man's spare guns, which had been placed in
the bag some time before. As shock and relief flood through the clockwork man,
he finds his legs will no longer obey.
He feels himself falling, falling, falling to the earth. But then, the boy has him.

"You've always been the one supporting me," says the young prince.
"It's time for me to return the favor." His voice is a transient whisper.
The man attempts to speak,
but the words refuse to make the journey from mind to mouth.
Why, he thinks. Why did you come back?

In all of the man's planning, he never once considered that
his young charge might return. But when he heard that single shot ring out,
he knew instantly in his heart what had transpired.
As he holds onto consciousness, the man realizes something:
Though he had chosen to protect the boy,
he still subconsciously trusted and relied on the prince's strength and judgment.
He turns this thought over and over in his mind.

How had he been able to defeat such an overwhelming enemy?
How did he possibly emerge victorious over the newest models of soldiers?
But no matter how hard he thinks, the answers elude him.
The bond between him and the boy is a thing beyond battlefield calculation.
And perhaps that is precisely what he must protect—the precious bond that
exists in the gossamer moment between past and future.

"Come on," says the boy. "Time to rest." Though his thin arms and legs tremble,
the boy continues to support his clockwork companion.
And as the man leans into his shoulder,
he sees the boy's smile return—one that seems likely to echo on into infinity.

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