This is my first time writing for this fandom so please go easy on me. Constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. I wrote this for naiyad, who requested Lord Vetinari with the prompt, 'it's up to you.'
Disclaimer: The Discworld series is the property of Sir Terry Pratchett.
Turning Point
Ankh-Morpork is on fire.
Everywhere, parts of the city are crumbling, once-sturdy stonework now becoming nothing more than brick, debris and dust. Sparks flare into angry flames, burning the skies a deep, fiery red as screams fill the streets; screams and tears and blood.
Above it all, the Patrician watches the plot unfold from his office. Behind him, Vimes has his sword pointed at the pale man, the tip almost touching his nape.
"Do you really believe doing this will end it all?" Lord Vetinari asks quietly.
The commander hardly blinks, expression grim, his sword steady. "Yes."
"Well then," he says, turning to face the copper and clasping his hands behind his back, calm in the face of death. "Whenever you're ready, Vimes."
