Snippet #2390117

Father listened to the strangers words. "We can't turn this into a dance." the man replied, moving though the warehouse to put an arm on the shoulders of the crying man. "We will do this brothers and sisters. The queen will be cast down, broken and scared. She is no goddess, but do not let these words leave this stockhouse. This is a war of attrition, not of knights and swords." Father removed his arm from the man, walking into the middle of the group.

"We will not sit and dwell on this. We all have skills, they rely on us for food, clothes and the whores that fuel their bereaved lives. A simple knife, a poison, a lie. We will tear them apart from the inside. They control all of Iracot, but we'll control everything the very streets beneath their palace." The crowd watched slowly, then started to nod.

Father looked to Alber. "We have lived though her tyranny for a long time. It's the time for well-disguised violence."

The seed was planted, now it was time to see what would grow.