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Jeremiah

Machina Gratuiti
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With any amount of cash riddled nobles that existed, there would always be double that in impoverished. An unruly and horrible fact that plagued just about everywhere. From city to village there could always be found some form of financial disparity among the masses. It was sad, how some must face a winter without warmth or even a week without food or water. That fact never sat well with Mr. Jeremiah, and today would be at least a single moment where he could tear some sadness away from those who suffered.

Tables lined up quite far and wide. A combination of races were cooking as quickly as they could in an area he'd closed off for such an occasion. This ordeal certainly left him penniless, but no matter! Money meant nothing in comparison to the warm smiles of the well fed. He walked with his cane over to the lead chef who he'd paid handsomely to rally others behind him and make this day happen. Jeremiah could barely believe it himself, but voila! The time was now.

"Sir Huntsfeld, I cannot extend my thanks to you enough for taking the time to make this happen." Jeremiah said with a bow and a tip of his top hat. The middle aged dwarf grunted and looked away shaking his head.

"Y'know, you coulda just splurged to get some veggies for those in the slums, you needn't have flushed out such ridiculous coin to make me spend my day here."

Jeremiah stomped his cane once with a hearty laugh. "Of course I needed to! A raw vegetable is indeed filling, yet the Vel Anir slums must very rarely see fine dining! Let alone meat or potatoes even if they were cold! To see the city's impoverished well fed by my coin is an absolute must, even if it takes all my wealth from me. Nothing is richer than happiness, my talented friend!"

The dwarf did crack a smile from the automaton's rant. He wasn't used to someone this eccentric or this giving. "ALL RIGHT, SET THE PLATES!" The dwarf called out to the other chefs who replied with a synchronised "AYE!"

Jeremiah turned to the low income houses that surrounded the area and blared; "CITIZENS OF VEL ANIR, I OFFER TO YOU A GRAND FEAST FOR YOUR SURVIVAL, AND YOUR STRENGTH! PLEASE, COME SPEND THE DAY WITH I, JEREMIAH, AND EAT TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT!" Upon his boisterous yelling, people began to creak out of their homes and catch the scent of an incredible meal in front of them. In minutes, the crowd was enormous.

Jeremiah would be found serving children and adults alike from behind the counter, offering pleasant conversation and making as many as he could laugh. It was a bright day in the Vel Anir slums.
 
Faith followed the crowds that filtered in towards Mr. Jeremiah's banquet. News travelled quickly through the slums, and when it became known that someone, however eccentric, was offering a free hot meal... well it was news readily received. The throngs of people were so thick that it was impossible to move without bumping shoulders with everyone, and only by grace of her moderate height was Faith able to see above the crowds by a couple of inches and find where she was going.

Not that it mattered, of course. The stream of people carried her in its current. She was going to the feast whether she wanted to or not. Faith wasn't going for the food (well... maybe a little bit for the food), she was going because a gathering of this many unfortunates would mean she could do some real good.

She knew that the gods had arranged this, and she could not ignore their summons. As a cleric and follower of divine teachings she had been blessed with a healing hand, and she was honor bound to use it for the betterment of mankind. Just looking at the people gathered around her, she anticipated the hundreds she could aid on this day.

Once they crossed the threshold of the banquet area the crowds thinned out just a bit. People began moving towards tables, forming groups of friends and family. Faith gazed around, and it did not take long for her to find the man in charge. He was dressed in fine, if not strange clothing. He wore a large funny hat, and carried an expensive-looking cane. He appeared to be speaking to the cooks, and Faith surmised he must be giving them directions. She couldn't think of a reason why he would refuse her help, but it was only proper to ask his permission before setting up shop.

She diligently made her way towards him, hands clasped in front of her as she walked. "Excuse me, sir," she said, approaching him from behind. "Are you the master of this occasion?"
 
Jeremiah finished showing a group of children a place where steam would expel from his shoulder and they offered him a round of applause and cheers. "Thank you, thank you! You've been fantastic! Come back any time!" He said playing along with a bow. The kids ran to their parents to talk about the funny copper man and he let out another hearty laugh.

His attention was then turned to the woman addressing him. He took his hat off and and placed it to his chest, lowering his head and revealing moving gears and bits of steam pouring out.. "No, no, young miss. I am but an organizer. The masters are the ones who accepted something as trivial as coin to spend a day with the impoverished. I cannot thank them enough." He rose his head and looked around at all the chefs. He sounded insanely sincere and seemed to genuinely be in awe of the turnout.

He looked back to Faith; "However I can indeed help you with anything it is you may need. Are you by chance hungry?" He tilted his head as he lifted up a plate of cut pork, mashed potatoes and green beans. "This has been most popular, though I can't speak on its authenticity. Believe it or not but I can't much stomach it myself." He laughed again to his own dumb joke. He was clearly enjoying himself.
 
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The steam took Faith quite off guard, and she guessed it was some sort of trick before the "man" turned around. Try as she might to be polite, her face gave away her surprise. The man was not a man at all but some sort of... mechanical creation. Faith had never seen anything like him in her life, and she couldn't begin to fathom how it all worked.

But it didn't matter, he was clearly the one in charge, and she reminded herself of her teachings. Judge not, she reminded herself. After all, he was being fantastically charitable. Whatever his heart was made from it was surely lighter than those of most men.

By the time Jeremiah raised his head back up she had fixed her face in an expression of glad greeting, and when the plate of food was lifted she could see why he had called the cooks masters. It was exquisitely done, and smelled amazing. It was finer food than one was likely to get in the good parts of town, let alone here in the slums. The machine-man must be fabulously wealthy indeed.

She felt a flicker at the back of her mind as she thought of his wealth, but she quieted it almost immediately. That was not why she was here. "Thank you, sir, perhaps a little later. I had actually hoped to ally myself with your cause for the day. I have noted that many of these unfortunate people are ill or injured, and I would like to offer them my services. I am a healer, and as this is your generous feast, I would ask your permission to attend to those in need."

She spoke with the practiced voice of a professional. She had travelled many places and met many people, and found that no matter where she was manners were always appreciated. She certainly didn't want to ruffle anyone's... gears.
 
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"Oh!" He spoke with dissonant glee. Dissonant as his voice was some combination of bronze and magic. The gears in him ever making light sounds of turning. He set the food down and fluffed his coat with both hands before raising his cane to the air and his other arm in a welcoming display. "Of course you are welcome, my dear! Your offer is unexpected and more than I could have possibly asked for! I am in absolutely no position to turn you down!"

He made a sound similar to clearing his throat and stamped his cane down. His head lowering yet again. "However I must admit this banquet has left me well... Penniless." He said with a laugh. Seemingly unaffected by the news himself. "I would not be able to offer you much in the way of compensation. However it is possible some of these chefs will find your skills worthwhile and ask for later assistance? Would that be enough?"

He seemed to be genuinely upset by his inability to repay the young woman. He hated to have people work for nothing.
 
Faith gave a shallow bow of her head. "Thank you, sir, you are most kind. I do not require money for my services, and I would be happy to assist anyone in need. All I do is at the behest of the gods, and fulfilling their will is compensation enough." Her stomach growled, and her cheeks turned ever so slightly pink at the noise. "...although, I would not be opposed to a serving of this lovely meal. To keep my strength up, of course." She smiled bashfully.

A short time later, her stomach filled and her finger's tingling with divine energy, she set about walking between the tables. She moved gracefully, keeping her hands clasped in front of her and her head lowered to see the people more clearly. She had only walked about twenty feet before she found her first patient.

A man sat sideways on one of the long benches. Sideways because one of his legs was sticking out into the walkway at an awkward angle. While he seemed to be enjoying his meal, the leg was swollen and looked quite impossible to bend. Crude crutches lay on the ground beneath his seat.

"Excuse me," she began, leaning down to the man. "My name is Faith, and I am a healer. I noticed your leg is troubling you, and I wonder if you would allow me to perhaps make you more comfortable?"

The man turned from his meal to look at her, still with a mouthful of potatoes. He was suspicious, as was his right. After all, a strange and weirdly formal woman had just asked him a very personal question. But today was a fortuitous day, and he seemed to decide that she could do him no harm. "G'on, then," he slurred through gravy.

Faith nodded and knelt before the leg. The people sitting by the man had turned to watch her as well. She placed her hands gently on his knee. It was hard, like a smooth yet uneven stone had taken the place of where his knee used to be. There was no doubt that the joint had fused completely. It wasn't hot, though, and the man did not react to her touch. An old wound, then.

She closed her eyes, her face stern in concentration, and took a deep breath. As she exhaled she pushed the holy light from her core, down her arms, and out through her hands. A warm, yellow-white glow grew beneath them. Within moments, the knee began to shrink. Calloused bone dissolved away and reknit itself back into its proper form. Tendons and ligaments softened and found their strength once more, and the leg finally bent, settling into a loose and natural posture.

A sigh of utmost relief escaped the man, and as Faith removed her hands he ran his own over his leg. "I... I haven't mov'd this leg for six years. Not since that horse kick'd me. Never did heal right." He looked up at Faith, there were tears forming in his eyes. "Bless you, miss."

"Blessings to you," Faith replied, smiling as she stood. She still had plenty of magic to spare, and plenty of daylight left to burn. She continued down the rows, seeking more patients.
 
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Jeremiah was not one who knew much about the divine. He was a being of science himself and had invested a great deal of time in the topic. He did believe that no matter what ones background was or reasons were, kindness was kindness. That was irrefutable.

Another stamp of his cane came. "Of course dearest! You may help yourself. The cooks are here til the sun finds sleep! There should be enough food for the whole day as well since we wanted to make sure even the late risers had their fill. There will be no qualms from me, I cannot thank you enough for your assistance." If he could smile, it would be wide.

Some time passed since his conversation with the marvelous young mage. He'd spent a good amount of time conversing with people. Sitting at varying tables and meeting as many families as he could without seeming fraudulent about his kindness. His appearance was a shock to most as he seemed to be one of a kind in being an automaton. This surprised him a little due to his history.

Eventually he would find Faith again. He noticed she was engaging with a man who's leg was visibly contorted. He kept his distance and observed their conversation. Her gentle presence was complimented by her miraculous healing abilities. He always was awed by the usage of so many magics as his own was unique enough to be rarely seen on the hands of others. He approached her once more, removing his hat and putting it to his chest again.

"I do not mean to intrude on you. I just wanted to tell you that watching you work has been an inspiration. If I may be so bold, how long have you done work such as this? You seem to be a professional."
 
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She hadn't had much time to muse on Mr. Jeremiah's appearance since their introduction. The crowds were indeed thick with those in need of aid. Anywhere that held this many people in these conditions would be a hotbed of disease, and there were never enough doctors to care for them. How could there be, when they could pay nothing for the service?

The automaton approached her again, foreshadowed by faint the faint whirring of his gears. Faith knew not to judge on appearances, and anyone who had organized such a grand event must be a good and kind person. Still, he was very strange. She wondered if there were a man beneath the metal, behind the gears?

"You are too kind, sir, I do only what the gods bid. It has taken me many years of practice to become proficient. I started when I was a girl. The church took me in, and helped me develop the gifts I had been given." Memories of days long past flashed in her mind. There had been peaceful times then. She fondly remembered the Holy Sisters and their lessons, learning about the gods and their mission. Through discipline and devotion, the gods had lent her power, and the sisters taught her how to use it.

They had also helped her to manage her sister. Tumult had dominated the time before the convent, and while Melody had been instrumental in their survival, Faith also blamed her for much of their troubles in the first place. The prayer helped focus her mind, and that strength kept Melody hidden and quiet. It was best that way...

She blinked, she had been staring into space with her thoughts. Recomposing her face into a smile, she continued. "I suppose it has been nearly seven years since I set out on my own. If I may also be so bold, how long have you been in the business of philanthropy?" There were many more questions she wished to ask him, but they would be quite impolite at this time.
 
"I see..." He spoke while listening intently to her brief explanation. Such magic was always mind blowing to him. His own was not only integrated by another but was almost not magic due to its properties. At least he felt that way. What she did was nothing short of a miracle. There was beauty and grace in what she did. He could not help but feeling a bit down about the fact that he couldn't help that way.

She responded with a question of her own and it made Jeremiah think a bit. He'd not really ever taken the second to dwell on how long he'd been doing this now. "Well hmm..." He put a hand to his chin and tapped his foot as he looked into the sky. "Ever since master passed I believe. It didn't feel right to his legacy to do anything but help those that didn't have what others have. As for it being a business I'd have to disagree with that." He waved at a family who was pointing at him curiously.

"I try my best to use my money for these things whenever I have it. Since I have no need for food or water. As for how long? Around ninety years now I believe."
 
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Since I have no need for food and water.

So there wasn’t a man beneath the gears? While she kept her face fixed, the metaphorical gears in her mind were spinning very quickly trying to understand the very literal gears in his. His eyes glowed with a brilliance unmatch by fire, but they did not give warmth (or not that she could feel now). His face was polished copper, and what appeared to be an expensive mask was now revealed to be Jeremiah just as he was. Her eyes betrayed her curiosity by glancing at his overcoat. What did it look like beneath those fine clothes?

For shame, she chided herself. He may be a metal man, but he was still a man in thought and action, and he deserved her respect.

Ninety years, further proof that no flesh and blood were within. He moved with the vigor of a young man, albeit with a touch more rigidity.

So many more questions. Perhaps another inquiry would not be out of turn, and if she phrased it right she could still avoid impertinance.

"I am very sorry to hear of your master's passing. You are certainly honoring his legacy in a most beautiful way. I would like to know more about him, if that is alright, he seems a most virtuous man."
 
Another removal of his hat to his chest. This time his eyes would face the ground. He stood their accompanied only by the sound of lively denizens and the whirring of his own body. He let out a sound that resembled a sigh. "Kulan Hoarfrost was nothing short of a genius." He made it clear that he was speaking of his late creator.

"He was old when he gave me life. That alone had to have taken a tremendous toll on him. He was a researcher with a focus on technological and mechanical advancement. He would always delve himself into studying so I took to tending his home for him. I would have helped him had I not..." He clenched his fist tight, signs of anger showing. "Misplaced his work."

A woman ran up to shake his hand and thank him for what he'd done today. His reaction to it seemed much less enthusiastic than normal. The conversation about his master had clearly affected his mood. He'd felt obliged to tell the young woman after what she'd done for this community for free. It weighed on him but even he needed to overcome the fear of speaking on it.
 
She seemed to have struck a nerve, and she wore an expression of utmost empathy. This Kulan Hoarfrost had created Jeremiah. In a way that made him a father, and Faith recalled her own unfortunately short relationship with her own parents.

She remembered them, as much as one can recall their early childhood. Her mother had been a good and simple woman, with hair much like Faith's and kind eyes. Round-faced, warm, loving, and creator of all things delicious and satisfying. Her father, likewise, a good and simple man. Green eyed, tall, with strong hands and a stronger mind.

How old had she been when she left? Five, six years old? She knew it was not their fault, that her own... uniqueness had been too difficult for them to manage. They had tried, oh how they tried, the sisters at the convent made that clear. Your parents loved you very much, they would say, and they only wanted what was best for you. Every day she dreamed of seeing them again. Once she was ready, once her schooling was complete. She was nine when news of the plague reached the convent. She was not ready to help, but she heard it from the sisters that were. A terrible illness, a fever that burned out the victim in days.

She had been permitted to visit her parents' graves a few years later, when the disease had passed and her mind was more disciplined. She had laid flowers, she remembered.

Her eyes had grown misty, and she reached out a hand and placed it on Jeremiah's shoulder. "I am sure he would be proud of what you have done today," she said softly.

A second woman approached the pair, thanked Jeremiah, and turned to Faith. "Pardon me miss, it's my son. A fever's held him for the past day."

"Of course, I will see what I can do." Faith replied. With one more look at the automaton that said we may talk later she followed the woman to her son.
 
Jeremiah made a sound resembling that of a cough. He put his hat back on and stamped his cane as a sign of regained composure. He fluffed his coat again and looked around. He was nervous about showing vulnerability in this place where eyes were all on him. "I thank you for your kind words." He said meeting Faith's eyes with his own.

That was when the parent and child approached the young lady in hopes for a cure to the sons fever. He knelt down to the boy and spoke. "What is your name, little one?" He said in a soothing manner. His voice no matter how artificial held such a light tone. Almost ethereal.

"I-it's Jeremiah." The boy said, hiding behind his mother. The automaton perked up a bit when he spoke. "You don't say! That's my name as well!" He spoke with joy in his voice. The child offered a short smile as he was actively not trying to. Jeremiah looked up to his mother and nodded. "You're in good hands." Was what he left the group with as he took off.

He was on his way to interact with more folks as a shriek came out from the crowd behind him. He whirred around to see three men making their way out of one of the denizens houses with a bag full of stolen goods. They and Jeremiah locked eyes before the men took off headed towards a nearby alleyway.

"Oh dear. Now that just won't do." He said plainly before he lifted his cane and burst into a sprint after them.
 
Faith knelt and gently took the boy’s hand in hers. He was very warm. “Hello, Jeremiah, my name is Faith. Would it be alright if I examined you?” The boy looked to his mother and then back to her, gave a nod. Faith smiled, and put her other hand on the boy’s forehead. He was even warmer here, and she could see that his eyes were bloodshot.

She told the mother to sit behind him and support him. The healing might make him dizzy, she explained. Placing one hand over the boy’s heart, and the other on his forehead, she told him to relax. ”This will feel a little bit warm, and you will see a bright light, ok?” The boy nodded, tight-lipped.

She focused her energy the same as she had with the man’s leg from before. This time she directed it into the boy’s body as a whole instead of a focal point. She offered prayers in her mind that the holy light may purge his body of disease and break the fever.

When she pulled away, the boy was sweating, but he was breathing a little easier. ”There fever should be broken,” she explained. ”But you will need to rest for at least a day. Make sure to eat and drink as much as you can here, and then go to bed.”

After saying her goodbyes to the family she heard the shriek from afar, and saw Mr. Jeremiah chasing after a group of ruffians. By the Gods, he was fast. She quickly weighed her options, should she stay here or pursue? There were others to help, but she did not like the idea of Mr. Jeremiah facing down those men on his own. Perhaps his metal skin would grant him protection, but the odds still seemed unfair.

Faith was not a fighter, but she could help. The automaton had been so generous to host this event, she would not forgive herself if something happened to him while she was around. Her mind made up, she ran after them. She muttered a chant under her breath as she ran.

”Holy Creator, though I walk in peace, I encounter wickedness. Lend me strength that I may protect the innocent.” She felt a small jolt of vigor, and knew that her prayer had been answered. It was not much, but the extra energy may come in handy.

Something feels feisty, what are we doing? A voice chimed in from the shadows of her mind.

Go back to sleep, I can handle this. The voice did not respond, but she felt a wave of disappointment take her for a moment.
 
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"We thought ya might follow us 'ere." One of the bandits spit at Jeremiah as he had them cornered in the alleyway. It seemed odd they would run into a dead end. It would become very clear as to why they did so in a moment.

"Empty yer' pockets, moneybags." Another shouted from among them. Dropping the sack of stolen goods like it was never their goal to begin with. Tossing aside things that were likely valuable to someone's heart. He saw pictures and heirlooms that had very little monetary sentiment if any at all. He felt a deep anger rise up in him but tried to contain it.

"I see no harm yet." He spoke coaxingly. "If you give to me the things you've taken for no reason, and leave me be, then nothing else will need to happen." He tried to sound as collected and calm as he could. Hoping for deescalation. The three men laughed in his face and drew blades, beginning to walk towards him.

"Thas' not how this works, y'see. Yer gonna give me all the coin on ya or I'm going to cut you, and maybe even one o' dem cute families out there, open for all the world t'see." It took no time for Jeremiah to react to the threat. His cane was thrown against the wall along with his hat. His coat would come next, revealing a dress shirt, vest, and suspenders. Interestingly enough the clothes underneath his jacket were in horrid condition. While nice clothing, they were dirty and old. His clean coat, hat, cane, and slacks were all that looked nice.

"You don't say." Jeremiah stretched his neck out, steam ventilating from it. His voice was not amused by their words. He began to roll up his shirts sleeves showing gear laden arms beneath. "Have at it then, why don't you?" Again, a wildly different tone from what he'd been holding all day. The men began to spit insults at him and make fun of his appearance as a wayward child would. He mentally rolled his eyes.

"I guess thugs like you ARE all talk. How disappointing." He spoke, setting his hands in his pockets. As this transpired, one of the men yelled angrily and charged blindly at the automaton. "Hmph." A light scoff from Jeremiah came before the man was upon him wielding a hammer. He struck downward to smash in Jeremiah's head but to his surprise was side stepped. The next thing the man would see is one leg of a pair of slacks raise up and strike him dead in the nose.

Jeremiah removed the hands from his pockets and watched as the man flew back all the way to his friends, leaving them awe struck.

"You'll have to do better than that, you greedy bastards." His voice was sinister now. Fueled by rage and contempt. He was almost unrecognizable.
 
She could just see the black hat and tails in the distance, and she followed the trail of dust more than anything else. She already had so many questions about what Jeremiah was that this hardly seemed to add much to them. How can someone made of something so heavy move so fast??

Luckily, years of nomadic life had left Faith in relatively good shape, and with a little heavenly motivation she was managing to just barely keep up. They had gone only a short distance before turning in between two buildings. Odd that they would stop their chase so soon, and why go somewhere confined?

Her questions were answered as she heard the telltale sound of steel being drawn, and scuffling in the dirt. She doubled down on her efforts and picked up the pace. She didn't know if her magic would even work on Jeremiah's body, but she could protect him from harm before it arrived... so long as she got there soon enough.

Let me out. The voice whispered. It could feel her pulse, her apprehension. "Hush." Faith said out loud.

She slid around the corner, her dark green cloak whipping around her. She saw Jeremiah, his coat, hat, and cane discarded. His shirt and vest were battered. Oh no, they had already begun. The metal man was standing, but one of the thieves was lying on the ground, his friends looking surprised. Had... had Jeremiah done that?

One of the thieves that was still standing seemed to recover from his awe and came at Jeremiah, swishing a blade through the air. Still some ten feet behind, Faith threw up her hands and sent threads of golden light rushing forward. In an instant they had wound themselves into an ornate and ethereal shield that blocked Jeremiah from head to toe. The sword rebounded off of the ward with an echoing clang and was knocked from the attacker's hand. The shield dissipated after a few seconds, and Faith moved to stand next to the automaton, breathing heavily.
 
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"What serendipity." Jeremiah mused as Faith stood next to him. His voice still ringing a tone of cruelty. He lowered his shoulders and rushed forward towards the man who'd swung his blade at him. He rose his elbow up and dropped his fist into the whole of the mans face, the sound of bones snapping were all that followed. The man hit the ground hard and was certainly incapacitated. If he was alive or not was another story. The geared man who'd shown unending kindness just moments before was mercilessly beating the hell out of these thieves.

"I was hoping no one would see this." He said while wiping blood off his hand. He looked over his shoulder as he walked towards the final thief. "Please do not think ill of me." He whispered softly to Faith. His tone unchanging from what it was. That of a killer. He intended to harm the man, that was obvious. Despite the battle being long decided he didn't show any wavering.

"You threaten me?" His voice and head changing direction to the man in the corner. "I feel nothing from that. You cannot harm me. Not someone as worthless as you, no." He cracked his mechanical knuckles. "No, what really pisses me off is how you have the audacity to disrupt the lives of those who are already suffering. Those who have nothing. TAKE from those people. THREATEN their lives to my face." He was now face to face with the last of them.

He leaned over to match the height of the man before him. The thief visibly terrified. Jeremiah towering over him as if he were the mans own shadow.

"Do you think you deserve forgiveness for that?" The last words before Jeremiah's knee rose into the brigands chin. His teeth splintering in his mouth and falling onto his back. The automaton grabbed the sack of stolen goods and turned to head out of the alleyway, locking eyes with Faith.

"You shouldn't have seen that."
 
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Faith inhaled sharply as the man’s face cracked. He fell immediately and did not move. There was so much blood. Before she had time to react Jeremiah was already at the third and final man. ”Wait-“ she started, but it was took late. The next thief fell just like the first, a victim to the cold precision and strength of Mr. Jeremiah.

He hadn‘t needed her help. He was shockingly skilled in violence. With sounds of steam and cranking gears he had dispatched three practiced fighters. The glowing eyes looked the same, but the warmth was gone from them.

She didn’t know what to say to him. She lingered as he gathered up the stolen goods and took a step towards the man whose sword she had blocked. Kicking the blade far out of reach, she knelt down next to him and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t any. She whispered a soft prayer with closed eyes before walking solemnly to the man Jeremiah had kneed.

This one was breathing, and with hands cupped around his face, she was able to knit his teeth and bones back together. She stopped short of restoring his consciousness, she did not want a repeat of the battle.

There was a third man, he had been on the ground when she arrived, and a soft moan escaped him. He looked as it he had just come to. He writhed on the ground, grasping his head in pain. At least he was alive.

She stood and started to walk out of the alley. ”I will fetch the city guard.” She said sternly. The implication was that Jeremiah should remain to guard the brigands, although it was unlikely that they would be going anywhere.
 
He stood their as the ominous statue that he truly was. A monster, devoid of flesh and heart. He couldn't feel guilt for this. He didn't feel guilt for this. They were cruel men. Using innocents as leverage in their threats. Jeremiah didn't let men like that walk free, or ever walk again. Faith's eyes reminded him of how the world viewed him and how he would never truly walk among the living as an equal. His feelings and thoughts were imbued with magic. They were ironclad. Seeing her so mortified let had his chest metal feeling cold. He didn't know what that meant.

She was able to save the lives of two of them but one. The one he'd punched lay dead. He stared a while at his corpse. Still. Nothing. He didn't feel remorse for that man. Willing to steal from the poor and threaten him with a blade. "Young miss..." He said, as if he was to explain his actions but she'd already turned from him to fetch the guard. He set the belongings of the poor near the exit of the alleyway. A few people still eating saw him and waved, unaware of what happened. He waved back as his face could show no expression.

He gathered his clothing and turned his back to the way Faith had ran. He felt it would be best if he disappeared from this. So he did just that. Lifting his cane, he ran. He ran as far as he could. Those who needed the food should spend that time together.

He was nothing but a bother.
 
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It did not take long for Faith to find who she was looking for. The massive crowd that had gathered for Jeremiah’s feast had ensured the presence of the guard. In the half hour or so that it took her to return to the alley she thought about what she had just witnessed.

Jeremiah, the mysterious philanthropist who had orchestrated the feast, who had given everything he had to the poor and unfortunate of this city, had brutally beaten three men, one to death. They were not good men. They had stolen from the needy. They had attacked him. It seemed they had even used the first crime to lure him into their trap. Faith understood that the world had wickedness in it. She knew that good people sometimes needed to do bad things to protect themselves and ones they loved.

But... Mr. Jeremiah had not just defended himself. After she arrived there should have been no more need for violence. The thugs would realize that they were outmatched, they would surrender the goods, they would leave. Jeremiah had not defeated them. He had crushed them.

But would the thieves not simply continue their crimes elsewhere? The question floated through her mind. Mr. Jeremiah had seen to it that they would not hurt anyone else ever again. Was that not... good?

That is not our role, she told herself. He did not need to kill them.

Do you really believe that? Chided the other voice. Or are you just too afraid to do what must be done?

Jeremiah was gone when she returned with the guardsmen. She was not surprised. In hindsight, bringing guards of Vel Anir to a crimescene with an automaton would have had only one outcome. The criminals were still here, the two that were alive had regained consciousness. The guards asked them if they remembered what had happened to them. Faith stood facing the criminals, with the guards behind her. Making sure the guards could not see, she sent a stern look at one of the thieves, and a single bolt of yellow lightning flashed between her open palms.

”N-no... we don’t remember,” he said, giving Faith a sour look.

The guards made their arrests. The feast continued throughout the day. Jeremiah had truly spared no expense, and the food showed no sign to stopping. Well before the sunset Faith had booked herself a room at a nearby inn, and before the last rays vanished beneath the horizon, she was asleep.
 
  • Bless
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