Snippet #1507879

A knock at the Captain's door could not have come at a worse time for him. Bad news was flowing in fast, no matter how much he hoped it would cease. He stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being the scratch of his quill on parchment, the ocassional pause showing he was not a relelntless working machine and that he was giving some thought to what he wrote.

The knock persisted and was greeted with a bark of irritation.

"Come in, dammit!"

It was the soldier on watch at the prison tonight and that was rarely a good sign. Neither was the colour of his skin, it was far paler than his usual hue, though that could be assigned to the discomfort at interrupting the Captain during his paperwork, something that had been punished by a few lashes of the whip in the past. The soldier in question seemed to take a few breaths to steady himself, apparently unable to speak.

"Spit it out man, I don't have time to watch you stutter in my doorway." Blunt words, no threat behind them, calmer now if only because he wanted a straight answer.

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir." He took another breath and the Captain rolled his eyes. "It's just that there's a prisoner in the cells, a strange one Sir, and Lieutenant Reshma..."

For the love of all the Gods that ever were, she'll be the death of me he thought.

"... Let him out and he requested you personally for his freedom, with the Lieutenant as a reference, with her first name given... He seems insistent."

"He bloody would be if he has anything to do with Reshma" Kronis replied, pushing himself to his feet as he scribbled a final few words on the paper he had been working on. He looked over at the watchman. "Well, what the hell else do you want?" The soldier nodded his head no less than a dozen times as he fumbled his way out of the door and closed it behind him without another word. Then the Captain turned over the paper, wrote 'Kali - Special Dispatch' on the back and rolled it up, depositing it in his pocket. A minute later he had his sword and chained weapon (It's unofficial title was the triad) on his belt and was locking his office door behind him.

He soon arrived at the prison. Being the man in charge of the city watch he had to keep a close proximity to such a wretched place at all times. Even his home was no more than five minutes walk away. And he hated visiting, it reeked of treason.

The reason for him being called away from his desk was the strangest dressed man he had ever seen. The nights were cooler now, that much was true, but the man before him must have come from a country to the South, no one here needed such bulky apparel even at the start of the cold season. Either he was seriously prone to a case of the chills or he had stolen his clothes from a man far larger than himself. Though that seemed unlikely, he was not a small man himself. Close to six foot and strong, from what the Captain could see of him. So why the clothing? It was far from functional and looked ridiculous. The hat served no purpose, it would not protect from the elements nor the sun's rays in the morning and the boots would not last him one side of Eronnis to the other.

He took all this in just as he was rounding the corner, then the rest of the distance towards the prisoner was covered while keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the convict's face. He would not degrade himself by being seen to act as judge in this situation. The man had been apprehended for a crime and was serving his sentence, Loger Kronis was not the person who would give him so much as a second glance. However the inmate held his stare the entire time and that was a feat not often achieved even by those under his command. Prisoner or not, he could once have had the makings of a soldier.

"You say Kali let you out?" he asked when he was stood in front of the other man. The height difference was a clear foot but that made little difference, it was rare that Captain Kronis looked up at a man. And this one did no more than nod at him. A common lawbreaker standing toe to toe with someone who held the authority to have his head removed was answering as though he had no tongue in his head. His reaction was well practiced and well used and came in the form of an open palm clout to the side of the head. It was the usual way he dealt with prisoners to force some kind of manners into them and only the first in a long chain of physical violence that this low-life would do well to break very soon. In honesty it was lucky for the criminal that the Captain had planned on making this a quick visit, else he would have been knocked to the ground by the same force delivered through metal gauntlets.

"When I ask you a question, I expect to be answered with words. You aren't dumb, but if you disrespect me again, I will make you so." Following his words was the classical, comical clearing of the head that he had seen so many times before an answer was sent back, suprisingly clearly.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get out of my sight, and the next time I see you here, I won't be so merciful." Again the prisoner nodded and barely saved himself from another whallop by adding a few well chosen words. "Follow me" the Captain finished. He led the man to the street and left him out there with a slam of the door, already moving on to more important matters. Like finding Kali and informing her of what could be taken as either good or bad news. She had surprised him once already today, he hoped she would appreciate that he had no choice other than to hand her her orders and send her off first thing in the morning. He took the front way out and scanned the immediate vicinity for any signs of disturbance to indicate the scene she would have been sent to investigate.

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The masses of soldiers Kali had seen mobilising were preparing to move out to the Eastern Baronies. Most of them had just woken up and were a little grumpy, some even shoving the final few straggling civilians out of their way as they arranged themselves into formation in front of a few higher ranking officers, each of whom was reading their own individual orders and discussing changes to the plan, as though they had a say in it.

Each officer was brought his horse as the North gates were opened temporarily and the ox-drawn wagons containing supplies for the army made their way through the streets under constant supervision to lead the convoy. All this happened some distance away from the assembled Earthlings but the sound of stamping, armoured feet and the cracks of leather being drawn across animal hides was unmistakable. But no matter which way they would choose if they happened to have the urge to join the procession they would not make it past the guards lining the main road. The pla ns had been put together by Captain Kronis and his years of experience had made each detail faultless in it's execution.

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Back at the gathering of out-of-towners, the lone guard, one of those whose position would always be the streets he knew so well in Jarvaise, approached slowly on horseback, fixing his eyes upon each of them in turn, showing not a flicker of surprise. He was well trained and well seasoned. He also knew the alleyways like the back of his hand and was more than a match for most thieves and muggers who fled through the darkest passageways of the ancient city. He was just about to turn the corner when Chris made a run away from the group and narrowly avoided being chased down and thrown into jail.

“We won’t be arrested"

The guard was too far away to hear Flin's statement that may or may not have held truth. But he soon closed the gap, hearing the man in a rather fine coat throw his piece in to the conversation.

"-say this because in the case that the local authorities are horse-mounted, armored, and rather unfriendly-looking, there may in fact be one off to our left."

"Stand where you are strangers, you have been accused of assault on a civilian and conspiratorial activities." Perhaps a slight exagguration of the truth but he knew that the chances of a lawbreaker making a run and risking a heavier sentence was lower if the charges were more serious to begin with. Assualt and conspiracy was no novelty, it could easily lead to weeks in the cells, possibly torturous interrogation if any documents or incriminating items were found on their person.

The figure of Chris grew smaller as he ran into the distance and then disappeared completely around a corner. The teacher was astounded at his bravery, or perhaps it was stupidity. Tearing off in to an unfamiliar city in and unfamiliar time, on his own, was truly an imbecilic thing to do... Wasn't it? He couldn't say anymore, his mind was too focused on thinking of any other alternatives for what they could do if they were indeed trapped here for the long-term but all thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the imposing figure on horseback reigning his mount to a stop just beside them.

Sebastian looked over at Flin and scowled. The loon had dropped them in the shit when they needed it the least, when they were most vulnerable. They were strangers who had been thrown together for no apparent reason and in the most extreme of circumstances. And now they were being challenged by the local authorities because of this nutjob's spontaneous activities, and he had had the nerve to give Sebastian dirty looks. It was laughable.

Althought despite the tension he could feel growing between himself and the Prophet he said nothing to incriminate the other man, instead choosing to stay silent and await the testimonial of the poor lad who had been grabbed. Better to find fault in the story and get them all off the hook than to shift the blame on to a single member of their ridiculous party. He suddenly felt like a member of the classes he taught so often. One clear felon amongst the group and everyone did what they could to make them seem innocent. And, without evidence, there was nothing the teacher could do to punish him.

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Unbeknownst to any citizen of Jarvaise, a menace other than the strange new arrivals was stalking the streets. No less than two dozen figures wandered the back alleys and forgotten archways all over the city searching for something. Whether they were men or women could not be seen, all identity was hidden beneath long, black, hooded cloaks of a simple design. They could have been purchased at any clothing store across the country or just as easily homemade. Though one thing was certain, they were all from the same place. It was not just a coincidence of similar dressing, it was a uniform. And it was as plain as day to anyone who had seen them, which was a precious few. And most of those who had were never seen again.

In the deathly stillness of the night three of these figures gather around a single sleeping vagrant and without any warning or premeditated signal, they moved in a flurry of hands, seizing the poor man around the throat, the legs and the torso, carrying him off with unnatural swiftness that could have come only with much experience. There were no sounds of a struggle. Whether through cutting off his airways or through the use of magic, the victim was silent, his only telltale sign the rustle of cloth on cloth as he flailed his limbs in vain. Only too soon the cloaks disappear into the shadows and the final signs of the man can be seen being carried as though by the darkness itself. Many others simply analysed their prey, staring for long periods of time, seemingly deliberating whether or not they were the prize so desperately sought.

Tonight was slow. They had been working for days, since the gates had first shut. They had not long left, only until the first frost that would signal the end of the market frenzy and the opening of the gates. And the official word from the Mages was that it would arrive tonight. They had been wrong before but it wasn't often. They could read the skies and the leaves and it was rumoured they could read the future itself. Unfortunately, whatever way they worked was highly accurate and all possible leads so far had been chased up to no avail. But then things changed. Oh yes, the excitement could not be seen in facial features but the hurried waving of a hand to signal other members of the hooded tribe over to the location could not be misinterpretted. This one had found what they were looking for stranded on a pile of hay in a wonderfully secluded corner.

It was a man again, though much stranger looking than the last to have been picked up. He wore clothing of a kind never before seen by any of them but the vambraces were all too familiar. Unable to contain their joy, the first figure to reach him did not wait for the others to be side by side and expected little response when they extended a rough hand to grasp him by the throat.