SIX:

Attia rushed through the aisles serving food and alcohol to weary travelers, prostitutes and the scum of the town. The bustle and noise emitted from the inebriated men and women of the night. Like a moth to fire, the frosty night drew men to Poshel's Korupsha Inn. With over sized hearths, on each ends of the bar warming the entire alehouse, it was only natural for the frozen bodies of protocol to be lured in. Sadly, this pub was the heart of the town, where the townspeople drank their pain away.

Years of life within Incarceron had left Attia both physically and emotionally scarred, but with that her edges were rough and worn. Enough so that working in a rowdy bar did not faze her. She had just enough gall to tell of drunkards, to stop bar fights and physically defend herself if need be. Though, it was her smarts that allotted her the roll as head barmaid at the inn's tavern.

Swiftly, Attia rounded the cedar bar top, her skirts fanning around her. One of the barmaids, Layla, anxiously whispered to her, "A man wants tea."

With lustful excitement, an intrusive barmaid adjusted the bust of her corset and gasped, "What man?"

Another maid acerbically exclaimed, "Get back to work Idelle, no crat is interested in sleeping with you."

Collecting steins, Attia scowled to herself. The bar served beers, wines, ales and hard cider; which women usually ordered. And on the rare occasion, some wealthy fool would order tea imported from the East Lands. Unless the person was a Noblemen or a Crat, tea was damn near impossible to afford. This meant one of two things, either some decrepit drunk would cause a fight with the tea-drinker, or a poor soul would end up getting murdered.

Tea wasn't a crime, but the citizens of this town despised nobles and crats. The protocol standards no longer applied to them, and if the bar goers realized some idiot purchased tea, they'd start a riot and Attia wasn't in the mood for bar fights. Further more, she wasn't prepared for a public hanging.

Those were the saddest of days in Poshel.

That morbid thought percolated in her head as she mindlessly filled more steins. Death was bad enough, but the barbaric torture this town enjoyed was unsettling. In the short time she's been here, she's witnessed a multitude of public hangings, beheadings and when government officials became involved, death by firing squads. There had been times she tried to put a stop to pointless deaths, but the only person Attia had saved from death was Shea.

From behind, the blonde Layla beseeched in a whimper, "What do I tell him Attia?"

All the barmaids looked to Attia for direction, and she felt every set of eyes bore into the back of her head as Layla awaited direction.

"Don't serve him," Attia filled a tin cup with hard cider, vacantly saying, "he might be a crat."

Behind her Delfina Zona, the owner's eldest daughter, who was wiping down the bar top, muttered, "I'd like to put a pistol to his head."

Attia felt a chuckle rumble in her chest. That woman had violent tendencies and a tongue as sharp as a knife. Therefore, Attia handled most conflicts in the tavern, while Delfina boarded those who paid to spend the night in one of the inn's rooms. Though, even handling boarders proved to be taxing for the hot tempered Delfina as well.

Over a year ago, Attia strolled into Poshel coming upon the Korupsha Inn hoping for lodging. She was greeted with a withered old woman and her temperamental daughter. Delfina had been unkind and impatient with Attia's lack of Realm knowledge. The currency was different from Incarceron, the customs were different too. Later she found out the harsh accost she received from Delfina was partly fueled by her father's passing. The sudden alter of life had stressed the entire family, Mother Zona was much too busy with her younger children to properly run the tavern, but her eldest daughter, had too much of a temper to function or be left in charge of a tavern. In exchange for free boarding for her and a near dead Preshea, Attia offered to work and keep Delfina's temper in check. She was only supposed to stay a week or two; enough time to get Preshea healthy again.

Filling a final stein of beer, Attia pondered. The man who ordered tea was undoubtedly a crat, or just a nobleman wanting to flaunt his wealth. Whichever it was, she decided to handle the man herself. There was no use in a man dying over his own idiocy. Never turning her sight to the three barmaids gaping at her, she questioned, "Where's he at?"

Standing on the tips of her toes, the barmaid searched through hoards of people. "He's at the corner table by the staircase," said Layla in a nervous stutter.

"Go ahead and watch the bar, I'll handle him."

"You're a dear," Layla sighed in relief, "Thank you Attia."

Collecting steins brimmed with alcohol, Attia placed them on the serving trays and headed into the belly of the tavern.

Elongated tables were positioned vertically through the bar hall. Oil lamps were placed on every table giving enough dim light for the civilians to see their meals and the person across from them. The main source of light were the large hearths, that cascaded the hall in a flickering soft light.

With an oversized tray positioned on her hips, Attia scuttled her way down the rows of tables. The pewter steins and tin cups she passed out were freezing to the touch. A man caught her attention as she handed off the last of the steins. He was a regular at the tavern but Attia never bothered to learn his name. She just remembered his piercing blue eyes. He moved an oil lamp from the center of the table to better read a news paper.

Gazeing at the local newspaper, the blue eyed drunk sputtered, "The damn king and his celebrations."

"Another ball?" muttered the man at the drunks side, in thickest accent imaginable.

"Yes," a third man joined the conversation, " First for the groundbreaking, and now the new palace has electricity and plumbing."

Remaining mute, Attia intently listened to the conversation.

"Tis only a days' journey from here. We could have a good raid."

The man with the accent continued, "The boy king is a fool, how could he ban protocol for himself and his court and not his people?"

Now, she felt the need to intrude on this king bashing discussion. "He has," Attia interrupted, "give it time."

The third man replied to Attia's excuse for the king with disdain. "It's been nearly two years since Queen Sia died and he has taken reign, how much more time does he need?"

"I can't wait to raid that new palace," the man with the accent spoke while evilly wringing his hands.

The original man with the newspaper loudly inquired to the table," So when'll the revolution begin?"

"There will be no revolution!" Attia barked loud enough that the tables surrounding her heard, her throat burned and her heart hammered against her ribs.

The men all cocked their heads at her sudden crossness. Some knew not to tempt the stoic barmaid with the discolored flesh around her neck. Others were to drunk to remember or care. There had been a time or two she had hit men over the head with bottles, struck her fist against their faces and pulled her modernized pistol out as a warning. That had always been a last resort, but as she glanced down at the man she shouted at, she could see the fire in his bloodshot eyes.

The crocked man tossed down the paper in a such a smug manner that Attia was half tempted to slap him. He then spat, "My girlfriend died three years ago from childbirth."

Gazing down at the man, one side of Attia's lip curved up. She curled her fist and settled her knuckles on her hip bone. "You didn't have the decency to make her your wife?"

The man clutched onto her forearm, tugging the hand from her hip and drawing her closer to him. His breathe had the sour stench of beer. "She died because of Protocol. My child died because of Protocol. My siblings died because malnutrition, because lack of medicine and I'm not the only one either. Each person here has had a loved one killed by Protocol. Why should there not be a revolution? Why should we not hold the king accountable for what he has done to us?"

An unprecedented amount of pity emitted from Attia's heart. She surveyed the man, behind wrinkles and facial hair was sharp blue eyes and handsome features. There was a possibility that his drinking began after the death of his loved ones, but she went through hell too. She lost family. Her family even sacrificed her, for their escape and safety. Incarceron was her Protocol. It had starved her, tortured her and it had taken her family from her. She knew hell as well as they did.

She could feel the tension in her hand, her knuckles became white as snow and in her rage, she pulled her arm from his hold and defended the king through grit teeth. "Because the king is doing the best he can."

The man provoked Attia further. "The king is a pompous chump."

Among the people, some idiot agreed, "Here, here!"

In great frustration and no longer able to endure the drunkard's ignorance, Attia threw the platter on the table, knocking over several drinks. Slamming her palms to the cedar tabletop, she leaned over the table, the oil lamp lighting up her face she shouted, "Do not speak of the king that way!"

The blue eyed man gave a derisive smirk, and taunted her. "Barwench Attia has a crush on His Majesty does she?"

Delfina passed by and slapped the back of the man's head, before correcting him. "Bar-maid."

The buxom woman down the table cackled. Attia heard her unkind words. "As if a barmaid could have a go at the king. Especially the likes of her."

Still hunched over, with her palms firmly to the table she explained, "I don't, I hate him actually. But he's trying to end Protocol to give us the proper technology and medications we need-"

While rubbing the back of his head from Delfina's attack, blue eyes disrupted Attia, "Only concerned with himself. Taxes are higher than ever because of him."

"That is not his fault," she attempted to defend Giles.

For a brief second, blue eyes focused his sight in on Attia's chest. Straightening up, she concluded that the man was baiting her; trying to get a rise out of her.

The curvy woman that spoke the unkind words then asked, "How do you know what the king does anyhow?"

"Rebellion!" A man shouted from the very edge of the hall. Every soul seemed to be listening in on Attia and the drunkard's heated exchange.

Another gruff voice shrieked from behind her, "Rebellion!"

"We must revolt!" They began to shout. "We should riot!" Other's chanted.

Scanning the tavern hall, Attia witnessed a riled up bar. Men and women alike were speaking about rebellion. Together they shouted, "Rebellion!" and then in unison all began chanting, "Revolution!"

Attia could hardly let a breathe expel from her lungs, let alone muster up words, but she turned to the blue eyed man and exhaled, "There should not be a revolution."

His rough peasant hands snatched her thin wrist. He couldn't help but continue to torment her. "But there will be."

"Let go of me!" Attia snarled. She tried to unclasp his hold, but he had a firm grip.

This kind of behavior could only result in death. Despite the drunken fools in the bar, she didn't want them dead, and she couldn't stand to know that if their rebellion was successful, they would kill Finn.

"There will be one," he laughed, " You'll see Attia."

"There should not be," she growled from the pits of her stomach, "The King has been traveling to the towns of his kingdom to fix Queen Sia's mistakes and misconduct. A person, such as King Giles, should not be held accountable for what they have not done."

Blue eyes joined in. "Revolution!"

The man with a thick accent thrust his fist in the air and hollered, "We shall have a revolution now!"

At her wits end, Attia pulled out a miniature chrome pistol from a hidden pocket at her waist. She aimed at fired a shot into the brick of the hearth. Women screamed and gasped, in surprise. An eerie silence fell over the entire bar. The loud crack caught every soul's attention and only the crackle of the hearth's fire could be heard.

Glancing around, Attia could see every eye in the crowded room aimed at her. Delfina had come to stand behind her with her own firelock, and Shea clutched onto her sisters skirts frightened.

"There will be no revolution!" she shouted, "And no one will rebel!"

With an arched brow, Attia turned to blue eyes and continued, "At least not while I'm in this tavern, or in this town. Now listen! I will not hear another word of revolution, or I will kill someone."

Unconcerned by her plea, he fanned his hand at her as to say he did not believe a word she said. He turned his eyes back to the newspaper and said, "Good luck with that."

She let out a calming breath before stepping nearer to blue eyes. There was slight resistance as Preshea still clung to her skirts.

"Not only that," Attia began. To threaten him further, she set the end of the pistol's barrel under his chin, and guided his sight away from the newspaper. The she finished her threat, "We will stop serving alcohol."

A childlike downturn expression formed on his face, and Attia found it humorous. Even though this man was an ass, she found him physically appealing.

An older man, with a rounded belly and alcohol dripping from his beard, drunkenly muttered, "Says you."

Picking up the round tray she hurled at the table earlier, Attia snarled, "Yes, says me."

The glare coming from the girl startled the man. He nearly shivered from the uneasiness her eyes had. Now knowing better, he turned his sights away from barmaid Attia's scowl and at Shea who nearly growled, "You listen to my sister."

Continuing, she defended the Finn she knew, as opposed to the infamous King Giles she shunned from her life.

"The king is trying his best," s but politics are a tricky thing. The court is trying to restore the Realm to a republic using a democratic monarchy because all you knew was a practical dictatorship; dominated by queen Sia. Who had her men unlawfully confiscate your valuables and have taxes raised for her own selfish reasons."

Blue eyes nodded. "The Queen's Treasure."

The masses knew of the Queen's Treasure. Somewhere in the Realm, she had hidden away many things such as valuable metals and jewels in case a revolution would crumble the monarch government. This would enable to leave the Realm and live in the East Lands comfortably.

Attia continued to speak, but mainly to blue eyes. "The way our history has played out, is not how King Endor would have wished it to be. He did want his people to fear change. He wanted security for his people, and King Giles is trying to give that to us that security but it will take change, and faith. The end of Protocol will come. Though it'll take time but you wait and see, the king himself will come here, and he will give you what is needed to end Protocol."

"He only has so much time before the revolution begins."

"Until then," she stated, pushing his stein at him, "drink your ale and shut up."

A/N: What a long time it's been... Sorry for the delay, and the crappy writing. Not much detail but hey it'll do. In case you didn't pick up on this, Nobles and all people of wealth no longer have to live by protocol standards, which leaves the middle and lower classes stuck in hell... Anyone have any ideas as to what'll happen next? Reviews get previews. Much Love and Happy Reading!