The Rusty Anchor felt quieter than usual that afternoon. The trio had just dragged themselves back from the alley fight that ended ch13. Sheriff sat on a reinforced stool his metal frame still warm from the punches he had thrown like prime Mike Tyson. No revolver just fists. Shed leaned against the wall his green scales scratched but the cuts already closing thanks to the glowing herbs the medic had slapped on. Saint rubbed the bruise on his arm the one from when a goon had grabbed him. They were not badly hurt. Just sore tired and breathing hard. The innkeeper brought them water and bread without asking questions. The box business had brought in good Enzo that morning but now the stall felt far away. They rested in the back room letting the adrenaline fade.
Saint stared at the wooden table his fingers tapping nervously. His mind kept replaying the fight. Sheriff moving faster than any robot should. Shed slashing with claws. Saint swinging his rod and actually landing hits. He felt a little stronger but the fear was still there. What if more came. What if next time they were not so lucky. He thought about the shadowy girl too. Her face when he had sliced the mask off. Her lightning. The confusing warmth in his chest when he remembered her calling him special. He pushed the thought down. Not now. Rest now.
Sheriff broke the silence his red eye glowing steady. We did good today. But Mark will not stop. The business made us targets. We need to stay sharp.
Shed hissed softly agreeing. Yeah tin man. Rest while we can.
They ate in silence the two jagged moons already climbing in the sky outside the window. The town of Ceil seemed peaceful for now. But peace never lasted long in Veyra.
Then it happened.
A loud voice boomed from the street outside the inn. The trio rushed to the window. One of Marks goons sat on a hover bike his armor scratched from the earlier fight. He held up a small glowing device that projected Marks voice deep and distorted. The message played loud enough for the whole block to hear.
People of Ceil. This is Mark speaking for the Director. You have outsiders among you. A boy named Saint. A robot called Sheriff. A reptile called Shed. Hand them over in one week and we leave your town untouched. Hide them or protect them and we burn every hut every stall every soul in this place. You have exactly one week. Choose wisely.
The goon lowered the device and looked straight at the inn. If you people give up the trio we kill all of you anyway. One week. Also there 150 men coming so be wise Then he revved the hover bike and rode off dust kicking up behind him.
The street fell silent for a second then voices rose. People poured out of shops and homes whispering in panic.
Sheriff did not waste time. He stepped out the door his heavy boots thudding on the dirt. Gather everyone. Market hall. Now. We talk. He shouted it loud and clear. The innkeeper nodded and started spreading the word. Within minutes the whole town crowded into the big open market hall. Merchants. Families. Even the old woman who sold glowing herbs. About one hundred twenty people all looking scared and angry.
Sheriff stood on a crate eyes scanning the crowd. His voice carried strong and steady like a lawman from the old days. Listen up. That message was real. Mark and his crew are coming. One hundred fifty of them high tech guns hover bikes the works. They want Saint Sheriff and Shed. But if we give them up they will not stop. They will take what they want and leave nothing. We have to prepare. Fortify the town. Bring every weapon every crate every vine we have. We fight together or we lose everything. Mark is coming in one week. We use that time. We make Ceil ready.
The crowd erupted.
A big merchant with a thick beard stepped forward first his face red. Are you serious robot. This is not our fight. You three are the problem. Ngl we should just give them to Mark and his crew. They leave us alone. We go back to normal. Selling herbs making boxes living. Why die for outsiders.
Others nodded loudly. Yeah. Hand them over. One woman shouted. My kids do not need to die for some kid from another world.
A younger guy in the back laughed nervously. This is like that old Earth movie Independence Day. Aliens show up and everyone wants to fight but the smart ones know you cannot win. Just surrender the outsiders and maybe the invaders leave.
Sheriff stood there dumbfounded for a second .
He had expected fear but not this fast. He raised his metal hands trying to calm them. Wait. Listen. Even if you give us up they will not leave. Mark works for the Director. They always come back. They take what they want. Plus the Zach Clan is still out there watching. Those cult freaks will sweep in after. You think handing us over saves you. It just paints a bigger target on every one of you.
The crowd argued back louder.
The merchant laughed. Oh sure robot. Like that time in the ruins when the big bad monsters promised to leave if we fed them one goat. They ate the goat and then the whole herd. We are not stupid. Give them the trio. Problem solved.
A woman with a baby on her hip yelled. Yeah and what about the Zach Clan. You said they are still there. Sounds like you are lying to save your own metal skin. This is not some hero story like The Magnificent Seven where seven guys save a village. We are 120 people Clanker . We cannot fight one hundred fifty killers.
Sheriff stepped closer his voice rising but still calm. I am not lying. I have walked this dimension thousands of years. I have seen crews like Marks. You give in once they keep coming. Like feeding a stray dog. It does not leave. It brings friends. The Zach Clan is real. They worship the Director. They will use this as an excuse to raid Ceil anyway. We prepare now or we regret it when the week ends.
The argument went back and forth for almost twenty minutes. People shouted agruement.
One old man said it was like giving your lunch money to the bully. He takes it today and tomorrow he wants more. A teenager joked this was like that I'm ceil were a guy tries to pet the bear and gets mauled. You do not negotiate with bears or with Mark. Another merchant countered with nah this is like business. Cut losses. Hand over the three and keep trading Enzo. Sheriff kept pushing back with facts about the Director and the clan but the crowd pushed harder yelling that outsiders always brought trouble.
Saint had been standing at the back listening his heart pounding. He felt small again. Like the kid who ran from his mom in Belgrade. But then something clicked. He could not let them give up. Not after everything. He stepped forward onto the crate next to Sheriff. The hall quieted a little as the thirteen year old boy looked out at all the faces.
Saint cleared his throat his voice shaky at first then stronger. I get it. You are scared. I was scared too when I ran through that portal. My mom blamed me for everything. My dad left. I thought this new world would kill me in a day. But Sheriff and Shed found me. They fought for me when they did not have to. We built the box business together. We helped fix the warehouse. We are not outsiders anymore. We are part of Ceil now. If you give us up Mark will not stop. He will take your Enzo your homes your kids. The Zach Clan will come next. But if we stand together we can win. I am just a kid but I fought in the dungeon. I fought in the alley. I am still here. You all have families. You have each other. We use the boxes for barricades. We use the vines for traps. We bring every rod every knife every rifle. We turn Ceil into a wall they cannot break. One week. We prepare. We fight for our home. Not for us three. For all of us. Together we are stronger than one hundred fifty goons. Please. Do not give up. Let us build something worth keeping.
The hall went dead quiet. Then someone clapped. Then more. The merchant who had argued hardest nodded slowly. The woman with the baby wiped her eyes. The teenager shouted yeah lets do it. The speech hit them. Saint had spoken from the heart and it showed. The crowd was motivated.
Sheriff clapped Saint on the shoulder. Good job kid.
They got to work right away.
Fortifying Ceil took the rest of the week and every pair of hands. They started at the main gates. Merchants dragged heavy crates and boxes from the stall and stacked them into thick barricades reinforced with metal rods Saint had carved himself. Shed wove glowing vines into the stacks turning them into living traps that would shock anyone who tried to climb. Families brought old tools and turned them into spears. The innkeeper emptied his storage and handed out extra knives. Sheriff organized teams. Some dug shallow ditches along the outer paths and filled them with sharp scrap from the ruins. Others climbed rooftops and set up lookout posts with signals. Saint helped carry supplies his arms burning but he kept going. He showed people how to hide small blades inside normal looking boxes so if the fight came inside the market they had weapons ready. The old woman mixed glowing herbs into jars that could blind eyes or numb pain. By the end of the week the town looked different. Gates blocked with layered crates. Vines glowing softly along the walls. Weapons distributed. One hundred twenty people trained in shifts. Some practiced throwing spears. Others learned basic dodges from Shed. Sheriff showed a few how to aim rifles. Ceil was ready.
When the sun set on the last night before the week ended Saint sat on the roof of the Rusty Anchor staring at the two jagged moons. His hands shook a little. What if we lose. What if my speech was not enough. What if Mark kills everyone because of me. The fear hit hard. He thought about his mom back in Belgrade. About the shadowy girl and her lightning. About how far he had come. Tears stung his eyes.
Sheriff climbed up and sat beside him his metal frame heavy on the tiles. Kid you did good today. We all did. We are ready. No matter what happens tomorrow we face it together. You are not alone anymore.
Shed joined them his tail flicking. Yeah kid. We survived the dungeon. The alley. The competition betrayal. We got this. You motivated the whole town. That speech. It was real. Rest now. We need you sharp tomorrow.
Saint nodded the comfort sinking in. He wiped his eyes and smiled a little. Thanks. Both of you. For everything. He went inside and slept deep for the first time in days.
The next afternoon came too fast.
The two jagged moons hung high as the town gathered at the main gate. One hundred twenty people of Ceil stood ready behind the barricades. Rods knives rifles vines and crates all in place. They looked nervous but determined. Saint stood between Sheriff and Shed his metal rod tight in his grip.
Then they appeared.
Marks crew rolled in from the ruins. One hundred fifty men on hover bikes and in armor high tech guns glowing. Mark rode at the front his face twisted in a smirk. He stopped fifty yards out and looked at the fortified town.
Well well. Mark called out his voice carrying. You really convinced the whole town of Ceil to fight against me. Pathetic. All this for three outsiders. He laughed loud and cold.
Sheriff stepped forward his red eye locked on Mark. They stared at each other in silence the air thick with tension. No one moved. The only sound was the wind and the soft hum of the hover bikes.
Then a single chicken crowed from somewhere behind the barricades. A normal everyday sound that cut the silence like a joke no one expected.
Mark grinned wider. Attack.
His crew surged forward guns raised hover bikes speeding up.
The battle for Ceil had begun.