Post by Sire Halfblack on Aug 4, 2014 18:50:44 GMT
Martius IM 1002
The first touch of spring seemed to ignite life in the city. True, it was still a dark place but there was a confidence in the people that had not been present for a very great while. Not just during the hours of night now did the shops open, the beggars actually began to be helpful to people and if there was still the odd murder it was genuinely taken to be nothing personal!
There was no plague, no famine and little hint of war. Some people even went so far as to pay their taxes and this was unusual in the extreme! A pair of obvious assassins were even seen to whistle as they went about their business and within Cheapside laughter could be heard for the first time in years, pure laughter, not just malignant sblack personing at the misfortunes of an unseen victim.
In the Braided Fox, a recently arrived trader sat with his local factor to discuss the prices for the wares he had brought with him from the south. The conversation went well and would seem to be profitable for each of them, the trader even ordering a bottle of the local red to toast the conclusion of their business. Nearby three mercenaries slapped one another on the back and the barmaid who brought the wine smiled at each man before skipping back the way she had come.
“Right,” Mourin, the trader, held up his hands, “I give up!”
“I beg your pardon?” The factor, Drizzle, answered as he popped the cheap cork.
“What’s gotten into everyone?”
“Who?”
“All of you, look around. I saw four ne’er’do-wells singing on the rooftops when I came in. Why’s everyone in such a good mood?”
“It’s Deci!” Drizzle explained. “It’s always happiest here, is there not a finer city in the Empire?”
Mourin shook his head. “Honestly? Almost all of them. I only come here since the prices can be so good!”
“Ah but you see, Tamary is happy, we have a fine council, Argoth shines his light upon us all. What a fine day it is!”
“This of course is part of my point, I don’t recall seeing so many people up this early..?”
“The more hours we have to enjoy our city, the better we all do. Now, drink the wine!”
Not everyone though seemed content with the changes that had come to the settlement however. Skulking in the depths of Cheapside a sullen looking man walked the streets. His fine clothing would have marked him for a brief introduction to a variety of sharp knives had it not been for the enormous Ogre that stumped along in his wake. The creature was garbed in the sort of livery normally only seen on the servants of the rich or Noble but, despite its dandiness, it leaked the lethality that most of its kind possessed.
The ogre’s employer asked anyone he could catch a question before moving along. Finally he seemed satisfied when he arrived outside the doorway of a neatly appointed shop. Strangely for the area it was well built and featured glass that was both unbroken and clean. A hundred tiny bottles sat in this window but the man seemed to have no interest in what the shop sold and simply sent his ogre in before him, then followed in the creature’s footsteps.
Jack had more pressing matters to attend to however. He had not seen his wife for some time now and only by questioning the servants in their town house had he heard that the poor thing had taken herself to Deci, there to avoid the simpering Nobles of Halgar. Jack had not been at the house for some time but found he remembered where it was well enough.
Not bothering to knock he let himself in with the bunch of keys he carried to their properties.
“Morilla!” He called gaily. A servant hurried to the shout, pale faced and obviously in distress. Jack sensed trouble when he saw it. He had enough ancient-ancestral trouble of his own not to know the signs! “Where is my wife, quickly man!” He shouted to the flunkey.
The man pointed to a small room to one side. “She has taken unwell, sir.” The servant explained. Jack tore the door open the door and looked within. The size of the chamber, lit by three candles, was not large. Traced across the floor were a series of circles, each bisected by a number of sigils. The still thrashing body of a kitten lay nearby and jack saw that the sigils still glowed softly.
Finding about himself an ancient-family-heirloom in the shape of a sword the hero traced his fingers about the shapes after ensuring that the cat was not his beloved in some evil shape. The servant poked his head around the entrance.
“Sir?”
“What’s this?” The Duke demanded.
“I have never been allowed in here, lord Duke.” The flunkey cowered beneath Flashblade’s angry gaze.
Jack snarled and jumped into the centre of the star like the champion he was.
By Alan Morgan (CI4V4)