Post by ManyAsOne on Jul 4, 2008 10:25:14 GMT -5
All was silent on the streets, but they were far from empty. Folk still moved about their day-to-day lives, sullen and subdued, but words uttered were few, even by the street vendors, their calls and haggling muted. Voices rarely raised above a whisper unless it was to give an empty praise to the glory of the Free City-State of Redmist or to its despot, Bloodstil, and even then those were only given when in earshot of a guard. An affirmation of obedience.
Still, something was different this evening as the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. Byron could feel it in his bones. An electricity that drained the months of isolation and worry from him filled the air. It was as if he knew then that all would be well. Huddling himself in his cloak, the hood drawn forward to cast a shadow over his features, he continued on towards the City Hall, flanked by his personal guards, both of whom were clothed in the same inconspicuous manner.
With all the horrors this city and its people have been subjected to, it is miraculous there is still a city here. Its people are tired. Weak. Cowed and subdued. But soon all will be healed. I'll be damned if I allow this to continue. These are not my people and they certainly view an outsider, a Sembian at that, with suspicion, but I must save them all the same.
He quickened his pace, his guards following suit as he crossed over a bridge spanning the river that cut through Redmist's center. The pinnacle of the city hall came into view, one of the few buildings remaining that didn't show the signs of the entropy that now strangled the life from everything within the city walls. The city's flag swayed in the breeze, Bloodstil's glorified crest, a gauntleted hand thrusting out a sword, a golden crown hanging from the blade. It made the merchant's stomach turn.
The swine killed my brother. This is as much about retribution as it is about the freedom of these people. This must end.
Planning was long and hard, but soon it would become action, action that would either result in the beginning of a new and glorious age and the end of the shadow that loomed over the Western Reaches, or the death of Byron Picket and his conspirators. Either of the two were preferable at this point.
Better to die fighting. I'll not let this go unpunished.
As they neared the City Hall he could see people finishing up their daily business, ready to go home and pray the Scarlet Guard didn't steal them away under the cover of night. Picket sighed as his guards moved ahead of him, their pace picking up to a jog then a run. The guard stationed outside the City Hall barely had time to react before he was tackled and silenced with a blade.
Several of the city's commoners stopped, gazing in stunned silence as Byron moved towards the steps. It didn't matter. He had all the time he needed and he would not be caught. His guards moved in behind him, protecting his back as he moved to the door, removing something from inside his cloak. After a moment, he turned away and nodded to his two guards. In unison they trio each produced a vial and drank from it, immediately vanishing from sight.
A bright flag hung from the gilded golden handles of the massive doors of the City Hall. One of the onlookers dared to venture closer to see it, stepping over the body of the city guard that was killed only moments before. The flag depicted a wolf, black as night, running on a red field, clutching a blade in its maw. The blade was positioned to cut through the wolf's collar and it was crushing a crown under one of its paws. Below the wolf a white ribbon spanned the flag, the words elegantly stitched in Chondathan: "Neither Collar Nor Crown".
Word travels fast in the Western Reach. Rumors began to circulate regarding the murder of a guard and the odd flag. Was it an isolated incident? A sign? Was there a reason for it? Would there be more such incidents?
But to a few, one thing was certain. It was a sign that the time drew near.
Still, something was different this evening as the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. Byron could feel it in his bones. An electricity that drained the months of isolation and worry from him filled the air. It was as if he knew then that all would be well. Huddling himself in his cloak, the hood drawn forward to cast a shadow over his features, he continued on towards the City Hall, flanked by his personal guards, both of whom were clothed in the same inconspicuous manner.
With all the horrors this city and its people have been subjected to, it is miraculous there is still a city here. Its people are tired. Weak. Cowed and subdued. But soon all will be healed. I'll be damned if I allow this to continue. These are not my people and they certainly view an outsider, a Sembian at that, with suspicion, but I must save them all the same.
He quickened his pace, his guards following suit as he crossed over a bridge spanning the river that cut through Redmist's center. The pinnacle of the city hall came into view, one of the few buildings remaining that didn't show the signs of the entropy that now strangled the life from everything within the city walls. The city's flag swayed in the breeze, Bloodstil's glorified crest, a gauntleted hand thrusting out a sword, a golden crown hanging from the blade. It made the merchant's stomach turn.
The swine killed my brother. This is as much about retribution as it is about the freedom of these people. This must end.
Planning was long and hard, but soon it would become action, action that would either result in the beginning of a new and glorious age and the end of the shadow that loomed over the Western Reaches, or the death of Byron Picket and his conspirators. Either of the two were preferable at this point.
Better to die fighting. I'll not let this go unpunished.
As they neared the City Hall he could see people finishing up their daily business, ready to go home and pray the Scarlet Guard didn't steal them away under the cover of night. Picket sighed as his guards moved ahead of him, their pace picking up to a jog then a run. The guard stationed outside the City Hall barely had time to react before he was tackled and silenced with a blade.
Several of the city's commoners stopped, gazing in stunned silence as Byron moved towards the steps. It didn't matter. He had all the time he needed and he would not be caught. His guards moved in behind him, protecting his back as he moved to the door, removing something from inside his cloak. After a moment, he turned away and nodded to his two guards. In unison they trio each produced a vial and drank from it, immediately vanishing from sight.
A bright flag hung from the gilded golden handles of the massive doors of the City Hall. One of the onlookers dared to venture closer to see it, stepping over the body of the city guard that was killed only moments before. The flag depicted a wolf, black as night, running on a red field, clutching a blade in its maw. The blade was positioned to cut through the wolf's collar and it was crushing a crown under one of its paws. Below the wolf a white ribbon spanned the flag, the words elegantly stitched in Chondathan: "Neither Collar Nor Crown".
_______________________
Word travels fast in the Western Reach. Rumors began to circulate regarding the murder of a guard and the odd flag. Was it an isolated incident? A sign? Was there a reason for it? Would there be more such incidents?
But to a few, one thing was certain. It was a sign that the time drew near.