The forest had nearly swallowed the village. Trees sprouted between cobblestones, and vines crossed brickwork like veins just underneath the skin. But this town was a fighter. It's stones held the spirit of those that would never falter, never fail, even in death. The forest would take it, in time, but the forest was not an enemy that could be fought by one man, or even one battalion. Maybe it would finally give the town some peace.
The clanking of metal echoed through the empty streets, like the blows of a hammer upon an anvil. Birds scattered, then resumed their twittering from a safer perch, watching the newcomer go by. The ghosts of the town silently observed, making no comment nor any expression of surprise. Leaves rustled, moss grew.
The creak of a door mingled with the sounds of nature, and the clanking softened as it's source entered a building. A crunch as an incredibly heavy object was set down, and then more clanking. Reinhardt Wilhelm pulled up a stool at the bar, his armor leaned against the wall, and his rocket hammer planted firmly in the ruins of a wooden table.
"How things have changed..."
The former Crusader pulled a bottle off the shelf and popped the cork out. He took a sniff, then quickly recoiled. This smells worse than my armor after a month... Ah, suppose I should not expect much from spirits left here so long. Time to crack open the good stuff. A few steps took him to the massive suit of armor, and a slight twist of a knob revealed a small compartment, with an unmarked flask inside. His purpose in the building fulfilled, the Dragonslayer suited up again, more out of honor than a need for protection. After all, this was a visit to an old friend, and one who should be shown the proper respects. The motors started up, and the armored figure clanked outside once again.
Reinhardt stopped in front of a shell, a once-great implement of destruction, now reduced to rusting metal. "If you have souls, I hope they rest in hell today. You took too many of my brothers here. We may have won this battle, but there was no glory for us." The sound of rockets igniting vibrated through the streets. "And I will never, NEVER, forget them!" Flames concentrated into a star-bright cone, and the blow fell in a burning arc.
Shattered stones and shards of metal ricocheted off the walls of the houses ringing the square, and when the smoke cleared, a crater lay where the Bastion had been, the head of the rocket hammer planted in the Omnic's resting place. This place... too many memories. I must gain better control of my emotions. A knight never seeks petty revenge. With that thought, the helmeted head gave a shake, and the hammer was hefted again.
Over bridges, up hills, through great arches that seemed to crumble at a look. Eichenwalde will never house another soul. I suppose that is my mission here, to put those last ones to rest. At the great gates, where the Crusaders had made their stand, the last of them stood again. The doors were shut tight, sealed. The enemy hadn't breached them, instead opted to go around, outflank. The one thing they were terribly good at. Logic and strategy.
"I'm coming, commander." The turbine spun up, and fired, launching an armor-clad missile through the doors.
At the end of the hall, a great throne. On it lay the remains of the greatest man Reinhardt had ever known. This was not a proper end for you, Balderich. Gunned down by enemies who would not stand toe-to-toe with your great might. Although you would have crushed them with ease if they had. Reinhardt let out a brief chuckle, remembering the Crusader Captain's almost inhuman strength, before remembering why he was there. Armor creaked as a man knelt to pay homage to his mentor and commander.
"The world was one hero less when you left, Balderich von Adler."
Reinhardt mounted the stairs, and clanked down beside the ornate throne. Two figures sat side by side, dead armor on dead stone, and living armor with living memory. There was a brief pouring of spirits, the flask and glass tiny in the last Crusader's armored hands, and then a long while passed in silence, naught but memories gracing the air.
"I'll raise a glass for you, and my shield for them. To glory!"
To glory... the wind seemed to say.
As the sun set, Eichenwalde lay firmly in the grasp of the forest again, its resident animals settling in for the night. Reinhardt turned once, and launched a final gout of fire at the sky, one last salute. Goodbye, old friend. Rest well, your vigil is done. They will be safe. The village lay empty, its final spirits laid to rest.