Have you ever heard of Palazet before?

It's a village within the territory of The Principality of Gallia located close to the border, small enough to be forgotten as it is quite rarely mentioned anywhere. Even Bruhl had more things going for it compared to this small retreat. Most of Palazet's residents were old people living a quiet and free life, free from the shackles of world's influence. There was nothing extraordinary either as life is slow there, just like every small village you could think of. Putting it bluntly, it is mostly a boring village, except for one unusual thing.

A gray building stood tall in the center of the village, the placate beside the door written with "maintenance shop". Since the days it was open for business, never once the shop turned down any request. All of its customers always went home satisfied, their broken items able to be revived to its former glory. Had such a benevolent god blesses this maintenance shop? Nay, neither a god nor a deity lived here, only an old repairman in his late fifties, minding his own business.

Back on his time, he was a famous repairman at Randgriz, the capital city of Gallia. Tired with all the buzz of high life, he noticed a single dot on the map near the border. Not too long after, he finished moving in there, calling Palazet as his home until Death knocked.

The gods merely chuckled seeing his astonishment as he witnessed the amount of salvageable junks from said village. In the end, he took up his tools once again and opened another maintenance shop. Fate sure likes to joke, huh?

One day, a young boy came to the shop. His eyes were gleaming with interest of this so-called 'hand of god' repairman, the title he earned within the village. He visited day by day, begging the old man to take him as his apprentice, each time rejected on the spot. As the old man eventually lost his patience, he finally acknowledged the determination of this young soul, allowing him to become his apprentice. Days became months, months became years. Eventually, the little boy had become a promising successor of his talent.

"Come on, Harold. Stop your own reminiscence. It's still morning," said the old man to himself as he pulled the chair behind his desk.

Today, usual as ever, the old man opened his shop. Enjoying the imported cigar from Randgriz, the taste lingered on his mouth as he reached for the daily newspaper, a slight bliss before the traffic on his shop piled up.

The bell on the door chimed before the old man got to read even the title of the newspaper, greeting a customer who walked in looking rather flustered. The insignia on his left chest had the engravings of a hawk, showing his authority to the old man as a colonel hailing from the capital city.

The colonel snorted at the old man. "Is it ready yet? I need to leave this wretched village today so those hand watches could be delivered in time."

Unfazed by his appearance, Harold stroked his beard gently. "Calm down, now. I let the young one fully handle it this time, after all. To start with, you came late upon our agreed hour from yesterday."

The colonel started to look annoyed, his nose crunched as he walked closer to Harold. "I swear, Damon is not a person with much patience. I'm merely his aide, but even I could file a report of your misbehavior, you old dog. Tell your apprentice to wrap it up now."

Intentionally sighing as loud as he could, Harold put the newspaper down before shouting to the room behind him. " Oi, William! Are the watches ready yet? Our beloved colonel is finally ready to pick it up!"

Although faintly heard, a voice responded back. "He's one hour late than what I expected. Coming, pops!"

The door to the back room eventually opened, revealing a man in his mid twenties carrying a glass case full of watches. His partly combed, messy black hair swayed as he approached the officer. "Turns out nothing much. Just some treatment here and there, and voila! What do you think?" he said while grinning.

The colonel opened the case to take one of the watch inside, a golden watch outclassing every other watches inside the case. He examined it from one side to another, secretly praising the golden watch that looked like a brand new product. Without any evidence to blackmail, the colonel frowned a bit.

"Well, this young man did a very fine job. Still though, I question that brain of yours, Harold Tunner. Why did you leave Randgriz back then?" said the colonel as he put the watch back inside.

Harold shook his head. "I'm an old bone. Don't you think it's my turn to retire and enjoy my remaining days quietly?"

The colonel merely rolled his eyes. Holding the case, he headed for the door but soon stopped by the apprentice's voice. "Hey, pay up! That thing wasn't easy to save!"

"Just consider this as a way to serve your nation, young man! Now shut up and be a good citizen!" The colonel went out, slamming the door hard. The chime of the bell filled the room as the two did not move from their spot.

"They are always like that, don't they?" William murmured to himself, loud enough for Harold to hear.

Harold chuckled at his apprentice while putting on another cigarette. "Let them be. Can't do anything about it, anyway."

"He probably used the payment money for something else entirely! That's... Well, fine." The apprentice held his hands up in the air, giving in to his master's answer.

"Promise me you won't act like those royal vermins in the future when you finally become a full-fledged repairman, William." Harold shot a glare at his apprentice.

William nodded twice. "Cross my heart... literally, if I actually do someday."

'Now, William should be old enough as him,' thought Harold. His eagerness on fixing things reminded him of his own family, especially his son. He never had the chance to meet her mother as she died quietly on Harold's hand when giving birth. Without someone to guide him with a motherly compassion, his son grew into a delinquent.

Every week, there was always something for him to be blamed on. The family were never on a good term, even until now. The night before Harold moved to Palazet, the boy ran away from home, living away his youth at Randgriz with various influences all around him.

Noticing a single glint of tears out of Harold's eye, William broke his reverie. "Please, mister Harold. I don't know what you're crying about, but miss Harriet won't like to see that from up there."

"Y-you know nothing about my Harriet! Just... get back to your work... please..."

Reluctant, William went back to his workshop, leaving the old man Harold alone in his moment.

'Get a hold of yourself, Harold. It's true that Harriet never liked tears,' Harold thought as he wiped the tears away. He grabbed the newspaper that he put, hoping it would bring comfort.

The headline for the newspaper was as big as ever.

'Situations Getting More Critical, The Empire Pushed Gallian Army Away from Ghirlandaio'

"Ugh, bad news again..." Already regretting the decision to read the newspaper, he decided to continue reading. It couldn't be much worse, anyway.

'Underpowered, Authorities Decided to Draft Possible Candidates to Join The Militia'

Harold sighed. "William definitely can't escape this one, eh..."

'Be Wary of Attack, Especially Those Living Close to The Border'

"Eh, Palazet is a small town, anyway. Why bother invading it, we're poor enough as it is—"

BOOM!

The sound of explosion caused Harold to stand up. For the first time, he actually felt Death knocked on his door.

William heard this too as he cracked a glasses he's been polishing up until now.

Rubbing his hair in annoyance, he murmured to himself. "What the hell? Sorry pops, but your spare glasses is now officially busted."

Hello. This should be my first time posting on this website. Thank you for reading this humble fanfiction.

That being said, I'm still new into this writing world and my native tongue is not English, so please pardon me for any mistake you found. I try my best to self-edit every chapters after writing the first draft.

Once again, thank you.

-Etro