In time the Kid earned good standing with the Marshals. They trusted him to scout out farther than anybody. One night, on one of his expeditions, the ground beneath him shattered, cracked, and split apart. He saw nothing, where the world used to be. The Calamity happened, just like that. All the Kid had to work with was his hammer and the clothes on his back. Through twisted streets, he ran with nothing but the city crest and an old stranger's voice to guide him. Well, he finally arrived at Caelondia's vaunted safe haven, he and no one else. What was I saying? Anyway. But then, all he got was more thankless work from a man who ain't even asked his name. Sure I may be the one who dreamed up the walls and the Bastion, but the Kid made them real, not me. I'd like to say I'll never forget him, or what he's doing, what he's done. I surely would.