The Fight for Salvus

Walker understood math, and numbers. There were always calculations running in the literal gears inside their head, and so they were quite comfortable gathering the numbers needed for the artifact to work. That wasn't the problem. No, it was the still growing sounds of conflict all around. The battle kept on raging, and it moved closer and closer to the center of town as time moved on. Once they had stepped outside of the building Alf and the others were, they threw a hood over their pale head, got his colorful dragons to gather around them, and explained the plan.

*We need someone to go in every single direction and send back to me a mental image of how far it is to the edge of town. I can calculate height just fine but not the width of this place,* they mentally explained, waving their hands in various needed directions. *Sound good?*

Agate, Duck, Spiffy, Refractor, Gecko - each dragon agreed, in their own way. And they were off, leaving Walker behind to ponder the future ahead. They were left alone to think as their dragons scampered off in every direction. Walker would have loved to take a pensive moment, but there were things to be done. They needed to figure out how much height was needed, and what those coordinates would be in accordance with the artifact.

They could feel it blinking in his periphery, now that it was properly turned on. Like most militia tech, it was strange and confusing, hard to get a good grasp of. They ran through their mental computer banks and found the standard unit of measurement they had seen militia tech use in the past.

It would have to do.

To get an accurate reading of the height (they didn't want to estimate poorly, after all,) Walker decided to climb to a higher vantage point. One of the nearby buildings was of a decent height, and so they grabbed on to the gaps in the wall as best as they could and started climbing. One hand over another, and one handhold at a time, they ascended. It really wasn't that much harder than climbing up to the treehouse they called their home. Very quickly, they reached the top of the building and pulled themselves over the edge.

The metal roof was shiny and precarious, but it would have to do. Walker had no dragons with wings large enough to catch them if they fell, so it would have to do. They squinted their eyes and gazed across the landscape before them.

The battle was not going well. Walker saw that the forces of Salvus were being slowly pushed back by Tenoch's small army. This was not ideal, and in fact they felt like quite the open target standing on this tall building. But atop this perch, Walker felt able to get the estimate they needed. A quick survey, an attempt to estimate was made, and after gaining the needed information Walker paused in their assessment to check in on all the dragons that had been sent out.

Most were doing just fine. Agate, unfortunately, seemed to be having some issues. He was sneaking out to the treehouse to check how far out it was, but there was a skirmish in the way. Walker looked through Agate's eyes - there were several soldiers, several dragons - and Aren'dra, fighting for all she was worth.

*Keep on going,* Walker told the dragon, feeling Agate's hesitation. *I want to help Aren, too, but what's best for everyone is getting those numbers as soon as possible.* A pause from his dragon, and then Agate kept on walking, though with much regret in his mind.

*Are we really getting out of here?* Agate asked in return, as he flew over the grass and through the bushes. He had picked up the pace, wanting to retrieve the needed information as soon as possible. *With everyone?*

*Absolutely,* Walker responded. They kneeled down on the metal of the roof and listened. *But that all depends on you helping me out. It's not small talk time!*

Agate sent back some mental laughter. He kept moving. Walker returned to themselves and finished their mental calculations. There would be enough sky to keep them safe and enough ground to keep the land together. All that would need to be done is to input the numbers, and run away to somewhere safe and far away.

It was very nearly time, at last.