I wonder where Reaver could be? You didn't think I'd leave him out, did you? :D

Chapter 3

The Bowerstone Resistance

It was a gorgeous spring afternoon. Birds sang gleefully among the trees as squirrels chased each other teasingly through the green grasses below. On the hill in the distance, a mighty castle gleamed in the sunlight against a cloudless sky. The city beneath it hummed with life and the people who lived there went about their daily labors, hardly taking notice of the castle above them, its windows shimmering magnificent colors in the daylight.

Above the city, beyond the elegant gardens, up the grand marble staircase and past the massive mahogany doors, was the throne room. The guards outside the chamber allowed themselves to yawn quietly as they waited for their replacements to finish their late lunch down in the kitchen. Maids and servants hurried back and forth along the expansive foyer, busy with their work. Not a notice was given to the closed doors that muffled any business happening on the other side.

It was an absolutely superb afternoon.

It was within the instant that the doors were suddenly swung open that the castle erupted into chaos. Four guards dragged a struggling young man out of the throne room, with a heap of bodies following behind them in a rage and guards trying desperately to subdue them. A surprised maid, who was nearly trampled by the stampede, watched in awe as the people were ushered forcefully out of the castle, and the young prisoner was undoubtedly taken to the dungeon. She caught her breath as the disarray slowly calmed into dull confusion, and took a peek into the throne room.

The tall windows that lined the walls on the opposite side of the room let the bright afternoon sun flow gracefully onto the beautiful tapestries hanging around the perimeter. In the center of the light, sitting calmly at the glinting gold throne, towering above everything with a hard, uncaring expression, and still as a stone, was the King. His cold ebony eyes were encompassed by dark circles, as if he had not slept in years, and his skin was as pale as the marble floors beneath him. Sharp cheekbones jutted out on either side of his angular nose, and there were hints that this frightening sculpture used to house a warm, attractive young man, but that man was long gone.

A nudge from the boot of one of the King's guards sent the maid scrambling back to her feet, and she gathered herself before scooting away as the guards swung the great doors shut behind her.

Logan watched, unmoving, as his guards dragged the revolutionary out of his throne room, and the doors swung shut behind them. As soon as he was alone, he slouched down in the throne and let out a heaving sigh, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

His butler Hobson stepped into the room from a side door and cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, Lord Reaver is here to see you."

Logan squeezed his eyes shut and breathed sharply through his nostrils. "Give me a moment, Hobson. Tell him to wait in the study."

"Yes, your Highness." The extremely round little man bowed and hobbled out the door.

Logan opened his eyes to stare at the closed doors through which the prisoner had been taken. No doubt there would be another public outcry over this. It seemed to be a monthly ritual for him to have to execute another traitor and have protests in retaliation over the death. Logan secretly mourned the death of every one of them. He did not want to kill any of his subjects. In fact, it was to save the lives of Albion's people that he had to sacrifice a few. No one could ever understand, unless they had seen what he had seen. There was simply no other way. Though he hated doing it, he had to be a tyrant in order to save the future of his beloved kingdom.

His Albion. His beloved Albion. If it came down to it, he would destroy it himself before seeing it fall to darkness.

He stood, running a hand through his long brown hair. He thought that he really ought to get a haircut, but having someone near him with shears posed a threat to his own life, for everyone in the kingdom who wasn't a noble wanted to slit his throat. He straightened himself and left to meet one such noble, a cutthroat himself. The hated businessman Reaver, and Logan's only ally.

Mara stared at a poster that had been hung on the brick wall that lined the street she was traversing. It was yellow, stained from the fumes that radiated the street. It presented, in large letters, "Reaver IS Industry" and the center image was that of a cold faced man rising from the outline of the city, staring down any workers who dared to break long enough to look at the poster. Shadows from dusk that was hidden behind the buildings made the man's face look more imposing.

Walter snorted behind her. "Reaver. A waste of air. And he's probably got all the breathable air bottled up somewhere just for himself."

Mara turned to walk away. "An unpleasant man. I've met him a few times. Though I never knew just how far his influence spread." She watched sadly as a small, dirty child dragged a sack larger than his own body into a factory, forced to work alongside every other child born in Bowerstone Industrial.

Walter took the lead and showed Mara down some stairs, to the surface of one of the canals that snaked through Industrial. They came to a metal door, and Walter huffed as he turned the bars on the door to open it. Aldous seemed to thoroughly enjoy the horrid mixture of smells that burst from within when Walter heaved the door open.

"More sewers?" Mara sighed, and she reluctantly followed Walter inside.

"You'll find that these sewers house important allies, Princess. Deep in these smelly industrial caverns is the heart of the Bowerstone Resistance. Now pay attention to where we're going, it's easy to get lost in this maze."

Mara followed Walter through the second sewer system she had waded through in one day, dimly lit by the open gutters above them, and she could see people on the streets over them busy with their evening work. The sewer water sloshed beneath them, and she tried desperately to distract herself from the rancid stench of whatever filth she was walking in.

Walter's voice boomed through the tunnels, reverberating against the walls and sending mice and rats fleeing every direction. He was talking about hobbes, or cobblers, Mara wasn't sure. Her mind was wandering rebelliously back to her afternoon with Ben. She was eager to see him again, so that he could tell her more of his stories. This man had lived the life she used to dream about as a child; she and Elliot would often pretend they were pirates and bandits partaking on swashbuckling adventures, and she would never have imagined that there was someone who actually lived such an exciting life. She felt a little guilty about her initial disliking of Ben; she had found that he was a rather agreeable scoundrel whose company she had come to enjoy.

Aldous zigzagged all around the tunnel, following a plethora of scents with a twitching nose, and Mara watched him as she continued to explore her memories of the afternoon while Walter continued to ramble. She couldn't deny the fact that Ben was indeed an incredibly handsome devil, and she could recall clearly the way his blonde hair fell over his blue eyes when he looked at her. He smiled a lot. His smile was very wide, triangular, and simply joyful; and his characteristic mischievous grin was also enough to make a girl swoon. It was no wonder he was famous for his mastery of the woman species.

Mastery indeed. She blushed when she remembered the private information he had easily extracted from her. She had no time to ponder that particular thought, however, as Walter came to a stop in front of her, and Aldous barked excitedly at a dark figure ahead of them.

"Halt!" the figure shouted, and Mara could see the barrel of a gun glinting in the minimal light. She reached for her own rifle but Walter quickly waved to stop her. "Who goes there?"

"It is Sir Walter Beck," Walter called, "I've come to speak with Page."

"How do I know you're not a spy?" The figure stepped forward, and Mara could see a large man in worker's clothes, with a thick scar across his face.

"No one sees Page. You'd better turn around, or I'll shoot—"

"Stop, Kidd. Put down you're weapon." A woman's voice echoed from behind the man, and he immediately obeyed. Out of the darkness, a dark skinned woman with sharp green eyes walked towards Walter with a hand outstretched. She wore men's clothing, but Mara could see that she was strikingly beautiful. Her thick hair was pulled back into loose locks, and she strode with a confidence and courage that almost intimidated Mara. "Nice to see you again, Sir Walter. I apologize for my associate's behavior. We have to be extremely careful these days." Walter shook her hand, and she turned to look at Mara. "Hello, Princess. I am Page. You may have seen my wanted posters around town, commissioned by your dear brother."

Mara immediately got the impression that the woman called Page did not like her. "How do you know I'm the Princess?"

"I recognize you. The Resistance knows who all the most influential nobles are." She seemed to spit the words. "The King sent word to the people that his sister had died. I knew that wasn't the case when Walter went missing as well."

Walter stepped forward. "Mara is trying to start a revolution, Page. We came here to offer ourselves to you as allies."

Page did not take her eyes off of Mara. "What reason do I have to trust a noble? Revolution or not, she's not one of us."

"I am not like my brother," Mara protested. "I want to see him off the throne because he is a tyrant and a murderer, not because I have ambitions of my own."

"But he is still your brother," Page growled. "How do I know that you do not still have some loyalty to him? I cannot trust a noble! One of my own men was executed today at the hands of the King, and the nobles did nothing to stop him!"

Mara could feel the anger inside of her start to boil. Logan was a tyrant and a murderer, Mara knew this better than anyone. Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel insulted that this stranger was speaking of her brother this way. She forced herself to abandon that bizarre realization, though, and took a deep breath before looking Page sternly in the eye. "Tell me what I can do to earn your trust."

Page looked at Walter suspiciously. He nodded encouragingly at her. "We've worked hard to earn the support of Sabine in Mistpeak, and the people of Brightwall village. Mara even went out and earned the support of Captain Saker at the bandit camp in the valley, and we've just returned from Fort Mourningwood where Major Swift has pledged his service to our cause."

"Sabine, Saker, and Swift?" Page looked the Princess over, and sighed. "I trust your word, Walter. If this Princess can prove to me that she is indeed the revolutionary she claims to be, then you will have my support as well."

Mara gritted her teeth and reluctantly followed Walter and Page into the Resistance headquarters, already exhausted with this woman's disliking for her.

The Bowerstone Resistance Headquarters was a system of tunnels in the sewers underneath Bowerstone Industrial, fashioned into bedrooms, a dining hall, and a room full of dummies and weapons that Mara assumed was a training room. She and Walter followed Page through the tunnels, which were full of men and women of the revolution, to a door surrounded by large barrels. The man called Kidd opened the door for Page, and they entered what seemed to be her private quarters, with a large map of Albion on a table in the center.

"There are beds in the sleeping quarters you are free to use," Page said as she leaned over the map. "I'll give the guards your names and you should be free to enter and exit as you wish. Now, as you may have noticed up above, our biggest opponent is not the King, but Reaver. If we destroy Reaver's influence, a revolution should be as simple as walking right into the castle."

Mara looked at the map Page was studying. "What have you done so far?"

Page sighed. "Well, Princess, there's not much we can do, as your brother has made unionization a crime." She seemed to be accusing Mara personally for the act. "So we've had to be more passive than we'd like. Reaver's support comes from the nobles, so that's generally where we strike. We've learned that he is actually planning a large party in the next month, and everyone in his inner circle will be attending. It will take place at Reaver's estate on Bowerstone Lake, here." Page pointed at the spot on the map, just outside the city. "Kidd is planning an infiltration when that time comes, to gather information."

Walter kneeled down to pet Aldous on the head. "There are some strange rumors about Reaver's so called 'inner circle.' You'll want to be careful, mate."

Kidd straightened himself. "I've got the best men on the job, Sir Walter. It'll be an easy in and out."

All at once, everyone in the room froze, and all the color surrounding Mara faded into grey. A warm breeze flowed past her, and the soft, gentle sound of an old woman's voice echoed throughout the chamber.

"You've come a long way, Hero."

Mara turned around to see the tall frame of a woman in a brilliant red robe. She stood on the empty air, her hands folded in front of her. The sheer power this woman emanated still frightened Mara almost as much as the first time they had met, though the warmth in her eyes was calming. This was the woman to whom King Sparrow had entrusted his life, and Mara smiled a the woman.

"Theresa."

The woman, her blind eyes covered by a red hood, smiled warmly. "You've earned the support of many important allies, and you have proven yourself to be a great friend to the people of Albion. Some back in Mistpeak even refer to you as the Hero of Brightwall."

Mara felt a rush of unease when the blind seeress dropped her smile, and reached out in the direction of where Page was frozen in reality. "But the true challenge is ahead of you, as you will now fight for the support of your most important ally. Page is strong, and gaining her friendship is what will lead your revolution to fruition. But she is wary, and will not give her friendship easily. She does not trust nobility, and with good reason. You've seen how the ignorance of the nobility has led to the despondancy of the lower class."

"How can I obtain her friendship?" Mara asked, strangely overwhelmed by Theresa's words. "How can I get her to trust me?"

Theresa turned her head to Mara, and reached her hand out once again, this time in the direction of Mara's chest. "You've closed yourself off." An image of Elliot flashed across Mara's mind, and she had a suspicion that Theresa put it there. "Open your heart, and you will find more than friendship. But have a care, for doing so might also lead to despair. The choice is yours whether or not to take the risk."

Mara watched in confusion as Theresa lifted both arms above her head and a bright light enveloped her. "Until we meet again, Hero." The blinding light nearly knocked Mara off her feet as the seeress disappeared, and color returned to the world around her. The others went on about their business, as if no time had passed at all.

A massive crowd had gathered at the shipping warehouse on the docks, and Page and Mara had a bit of trouble squeezing through. It had been three weeks since Mara first arrived at the Bowerstone Resistance, and Page seemed to trust her enough to go out with her without Walter's supervision. They pushed through the great host as far forward as they could, and they saw a young man standing on a pile of crates waving his fists wildly.

"Reaver is exploiting us!" The man shouted. "We deserve fair pay! We are workers, not slaves!"

The crowd roared with applause with each sentence the man made. "Now is the time to act! We demand to be payed wages we can live off of! We demand reasonable hours! We demand safer working conditions for us and our children! It is time for us to stand up to Reaver!"

A loud shot rang through the air, and the man toppled over, holding his shoulder and crying out in pain. On a balcony above him, standing tall and proper with a smoking pistol in his hand, was Reaver. The crowd hushed into a murmur and started backward.

"But lying down is so much easier than standing up," Reaver said in a happy tone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have decided that, in order to raise morale, I am offering prizes to the most deserving workers! The rules for what I like to call 'The Reaver Team Spirit Awards' are as follows: firstly, any worker who so much as murmurs another complaint will be shot." Reaver fired another bullet into the man's chest, and he gasped in pain. "Secondly, any worker who takes more than a three second break will be shot." Another shot. The crowd was silent, no one dared to go to the man's rescue as he bled on the cobblestones in front of them. "And lastly," Reaver continued cheerfully, "any worker who breaks any other rules will," he laughed, "as you guessed it, be shot." A final shot was sent straight into the man's head, and he fell limply to the ground, dead. The crowd huddled back in horror, and Reaver let out an amused chuckle. "You may return to work now, if you like. As you know, I am a generous man, and likely to give out prizes right away, so go on! Chop, chop!"

The crowd hastily broke and everyone fearfully hurried back to work. Page sighed sadly. "Poor man."

Mara looked up at Reaver, and to her surprise, he was looking right back at her. She held his gaze with angry eyes, knowing full well that he recognized her as the Princess. The man, the recipient of the gift of eternal youth as explained to her by Logan, smiled at her with centuries worth of cunning behind his eyes. Mara saw him wink deliberately at her before disappearing into the warehouse with a swirl of his coat tails.

"We have to work fast," Page muttered. "If Reaver kills many more workers, there will be riots all over the district, and that will only hinder us."

A desperate curiosity pulled Mara toward the factory, and she waved at Page to return to Headquarters without her. "Go, I want to check something. I'll meet you back in a little while."

Page shrugged and disappeared in an alley. Mara stood for a moment, studying the corpse of the worker. People hurried by, busy with work, not daring to move the man for fear that they may be shot.

Mara turned on her heel and walked around the warehouse, unsure of what she was looking for, but feeling pulled in that direction nonetheless. Her instincts led her to a quiet alleyway between the tall buildings, with iron scaffolding hanging high above the ground. She could feel a presence behind her, and she knew instantly who it was.

"My, my, Princess. It has been a while." Reaver waltzed from the shadows and smiled at her when she turned to face him. "I must say, I rejoice to see that you are alive, after all. We were all so worried when you up and disappeared after dear Elliot's demise."

"Don't speak of Elliot!" Mara spat, but caught herself before she lost her temper. This man didn't deserve the honor of having her be angry with him.

"Oh, still a touchy subject, Princess?" Reaver shrugged. "My apologies. He was your beloved fiance after all, was he not?"

Mara did not answer. She stared angrily into Reaver's dark eyes and clenched her fists when she found amusement in them. "Why did you kill that man?"

Reaver laughed. "Oh, that worker just now? Just a hitch. No worries, Princess, work is back on schedule despite his interruption. Don't you think I handled it rather cleverly? 'Reaver Team Spirit Award,' I do love it!"

"You're a monster."

He furrowed his brow. "Come now, Princess, there's no need for name calling! I am simply a businessman protecting my interests. That unfortunate man posed a threat to commerce." Reaver paused, and smiled wickedly as he leaned in closer to Mara. "It's much like running a country, Princess. Logan saw that your dear Elliot was posing a threat to his authority, and so he dealt with him accordingly."

Mara let out a growl and leapt at him. She was not prepared for how agile the man was, and she was easily evaded. Blinded with anger to any reason that would normally keep her from being so rash, she yanked her sword from her sheath and charged Reaver. Without so much as a flinch, the man deflected her sword with a flick of his cane, and in a flash he had both of her wrists behind her back with one hand and pushed her against the brick wall. He smiled with delight as she tried to free herself, but he was incredibly strong; his cunning was that of the Hero of Skill, and his strength was that of the Pirate King.

Reaver leaned down and put his face close to hers, whispering in her ear. "Careful, Princess. You don't want to do anything reckless, now would you? You have a revolution to plan, after all." With his free hand, he traced the will lines on Mara's face as they glowed with fury. "And a reckless Hero is a dangerous thing." He very slowly traced the lines down her neck and between her breasts, chuckling again with delight as she squirmed again at his touch. He pressed himself closer to her, and she held her breath as he teasingly breathed into her ear.

"You're lucky I have plans to attend to," he said, and she clenched her teeth in anger when she felt him nibble her ear lobe. "'Til we meet again, Princess."

She broke away as soon as she felt his grip loosen, and darted straight for her sword. She swung it angrily around, but when she turned back, Reaver was nowhere in sight.