Snippet #1514638

= Gamaliel of Merkhava =

After the last arena round had concluded, Gamaliel quietly departed as did much of the crowd. The Colisseum grounds required cleaning and there was little reason for remaining with the main spectacles having exhausted their main attracting tenures. With the fading light, the looming darkness signaled the day’s end, prompting most Vantian street goers, both visitors and residents to return home or run about their evening activities. Naturally, Gamaliel and his retinue retired to the Bronze Inn; an ordinary tavern along Vantia’s market district and a popular destination to Vantia’s out of town visitors. Not sixty yards away, another Inn, named ‘The Talon’s Nest’, rivalled the Bronze, attracting higher end customers, yet times were hard and for a tavern, the Bronze Inn served adequately as customary to its location and purpose. The cheap ale, affordable rooming, low grade whores, busty serving girls, decent evening troubadours, and warm meals were adequate enough and it’d been a long day for Gamaliel and his men. Tired, hungry, and in need of rest, the guard took relief in finally reaching civilization again. Though much was at stake, the weary retinue had spent the better course of a week travelling the countryside and it’d been some time since they’d encountered civilization or rest under a proper roof. Gamaliel’s gambit had paid off and an excessive forced ride through the past two nights had brought them to Vantia.

They were rewarded the privilege of a warm meal and fine drafts afforded by the Inn’s stockades. Gamaliel set about discussing matters with Maximinius and Ennodius and plotting their objectives for coming months. The very existence of the Rivian state became a matter of discussion and aside from their oaths of sworn purpose, the matter of affairs concerning rapid declines in grain harvesting and the sharp rise in food prices also came to bear. It didn’t require much forethought to know that Riv’Nar was floundering and conditions would surely worsen as the months and years progressed. Gamaliel had sat in court circles, listening and watching as the aristocracy sat about their estates, levying exhausting taxes while the Rivian common folk barely scraped enough to survive. Pleas for aid came on deaf ears as the royal family ignored the state of affairs. They built gardens and emptied the treasury, filling the royal palace in wasteful squalor. Even in Vantia, where coin promised comfort, the hardship became evident as more and more beggars roamed the streets.

Enough was enough and the times called for ...

"Hey! Get your dirty fingers out of my satchel!" a voice yelled, over the evening commotion. Gamaliel turned as all chatter ground to a halt.

Customers froze, eyes leaped, and all attention averted in the general direction of a greasy haired teenager standing near the doorway. Many of the dwarves simply rolled their eyes, returning to their drinks as if nothing had ever happened, yet the gaze of many humans remained transfixed upon the greasy haired youth.

"He's a liar,” shouted another voice, pointing towards the greasy youth, “It's my belongings! That little brat stole them from me on the marketplace!"

"WHAT!?" the youth cried, attracting additional odd stares from the evening crowd.

Maximinius eyed Gamaliel, flickering his pugio in readiness, yet the older man raised his arm, ordering the adjutant down in wisdom. The man was clearly lying as evidenced through his suspicious ruffling of the youth’s satchel not several moments ago and it shamed the bearded leader to witness such lowly acts of larcenous crimes. This, however, was not the time for attention, and in silence, Gamaliel looked on; watching and waiting while youth decided his next course of action ...