A Timely Knight

A Dream of Machines

He had never seen Ironport.

He traveled as far as Heliport and back, but never to Ironport. And yet, he somehow knew this was Ironport.

Must be all the reading, he thought to himself as he walked down the wide and lonely bridge that connected the south side of the city, with the north.

Ironport, one of the main cities in Makina, by far the largest but least populated port where most of the trade occurred. The main part of the city rose suspended mid-air, on top of the Rhain, the river that traveled across three major cities and flowed into Coverfell, the large sea west of Makina. Narrow bridges connected the eight sections of the city, commonly called islands by the inhabitants of the hectic and metallic port. 

On the northern part of Ironport, a huge waterfall named Alma after the woman who once fell to her death from the top, fed the Rhain and gave the city its trademark cold and sweet breeze. As he reached the Island of Oil, he thought he heard something, but what could it be? A squeak? A sound akin to an old and rusty machine struggling to function properly. He turned around, trying to find the source of the sound, but found nothing, and no one else seemed to hear it. He shrugged and made his way to the other side of the island.

There are a lot of people at Ironport today, he thought, astonished at the sight of the huge crowd gathered around the small shops.

Were there really a lot of people? Sure, they were far more than he ever saw at Slatehallow, the place he called home. But since he never visited Ironport before, he couldn't really tell if these were in fact a lot of people, or if they were just the right amount.

The squeak once more, louder than before. Again, he seemed to be the only one who heard it. It made sense. How can anyone hear anything over this noise? Merchants shouting, buyers bargaining, and sellers offering, all of them trying to out-scream one another. 

Utter chaos. Controlled, perhaps, usual for those accustomed to it, which by the looks of it were everyone but him. But chaos nonetheless, boisterous and wild, loud and overwhelming. An explosion to the senses. A multitude of thunder. He wasn't enjoying his experience in Ironport.

Now, however, is as good a time as any to wonder why I'm here.

Why indeed. Was there a purpose to his visit? One doesn't just exist in a place with no clear meaning. How did he get to Ironport? What laid beyond Ironport? What laid beyond him? 

He finally reached the waterfall and stopped right at the edge, where Alma stood before she leaped to her death. He wondered what drove her to that point, how bad things were for her. And he wished he could've helped her, given her some solace against the great dispair. A weird thought, considering Alma died three hundred gears before, but a kind one at least.

The sheer force of the waterfall unnerved the ground. For a few moments, he wondered if Alma, like him, stood at the very edge, beholding the water below when the unexpected tremble of the ground made her fall. Maybe, he thought, she didn't want to die. Maybe it was an accident. His stomach turned at the thought. What a waste.

The squeak once more. This time, he knew he heard it and he turned around, determined to find the source. He walked back to the islands, following the sound of metal crashing and the smell of sweat, and melting iron. He arrived at the central bridge, connecting north and south, stopped, and looked around. 

A dormant fixture in a sea of motion. Wind smashed against his face, sweet salt caressed his skin. The waves below, so distant and calm, still felt like rhythms under his feet. Where was it? What was it? It was close, he could tell. But it eluded him still, hiding like a shadow in a barely-lit space. Did it swim on the depths below? Did it slither in the crowd around? Then it hit him. Perhaps it hovered in the sky above. He looked up to the sky and saw it.