A new temporary AN: We are for sure entering the last part of the story; the boys are on a timecruch and things should happen more quickly from here on out. Fair warning: expect violence to come… If I ever go too far, I hope someone will let me know, because one tend to get blind on one's own writing. Hope you enjoy!
Action and Consequence
They climb down from the roof once they can no longer hear the town crier and head back inside their safe house to clean up a little before midday can come around. The creeping daylight revels just how much ash has managed to collect in their hair and clothing along with a few fragments of mortar from what used to be solid walls of the storage room. They spend several long minutes brushing off dust and debris, but their clothing still looks a little dull and they eventually give up on improving their looks.
They make their way to the marketplace where they are most likely to catch up on rumors, news, and people's general opinion after the night' events. The morning hours pass slowly as they move around the marked, haggling for a few smaller items while keeping their ears perked.
People seem tense as they move about their daily routine, startling at the slightest of sounds and offering no pleasantries when making purchases, and whenever guards happen to walk by, they tend to turn quiet and stare firmly at their feet, seemingly terrified.
"Why does it look like everybody expects to be punished?" Tino whispers at some point. "They haven't done anything wrong. Why are they so scared of the guards?"
Matthias does not have an answer for him, but he does get a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach watching how the citizens cover in fear. They all have a reason to be nervous after all, somebody just attacked their city, and they do not know the details, but they just as fearful of the guards supposed to protect them as the potential rebel horde outside their gates. It reminds him far too much of Mud Town and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth to know that he helped cause that much fear.
When midday finally draws near, the vendors pack down they goods and close their stores. Apparently, everybody intends to watch this announcement in the main square, ignoring their normal duties, which makes it easy for Matthias and the others to follow the general flow of people through the district to the right location.
There is a tense moment when they close in on the wall and gate separating them from the next section of the merchant district, but the guards waive everyone through without a second glance at any of them, and they do not have to worry about their lack of proper paperwork.
This city section looks much like the one they just came from, and they keep going for several long minutes towards the next district wall, more and more people joining them along the way.
Then they pass through the next district wall, and everything is different in an instant.
This district is massive and appears almost empty. There are only a few buildings, and those are right next to the walls and out of the way, leaving a large open area, almost like a massive marketplace, but by the innermost wall there is a large podium, obviously meant for public announcements. This city section is missing the wall to the commoner district, making it even bigger, but there are two large fences separating the commoners from the merchants and a line of heavily armed guards marching in the corridor between the fences.
There are large doors on either side of the podium and there are more people coming through, all of them dressed in clearly expensive clothing, their color bright and many of the women wearing elaborate headwear, clearly nobles. They fill up a section right before the podium, separated again from the merchants with another sturdy fence and a line of guards. Matthias has to admit it is a brilliant system to keep the citizens separated by class and still allow everyone access to witness a public event without spending hours controlling paperwork.
Matthias elbows his way towards the fence closest to the podium, wanting to have the best view possible. The square fills up quickly with each passing minute making it harder to move and they are pinned against the fence with the guards on the other side watching their every move with suspicion. The nobles on the other side of the fence have a lot more room between each person, the district not as densely populated, and Matthias imagines the commoners stand packed like herring in a barrel to fit in their section.
He maps out the district, looking for the weakest points when there is a tug at the hem of his tunic. When he turns to find the source, he finds Tino gesturing discreetly towards the top of the wall where there is a line of archers standing at the ready around the entire district. Then the doors they entered into the massive district closes with a resounding thud.
"I'm beginning to think this might have been a bad idea," Tino whispers and Matthias cannot blame him, but it is too late to change their minds now. The square is packed, and the way out completely blocked off by the swarm of people and then there is the sound of a fanfare and the crowd turns deadly silent in a matter of seconds without a single whisper of conversation remaining.
The door directly behind the podium opens and a large group of guards comes marching out. They are all wearing a full set of heavy plate mail and the oak tree emblem engraved on their chests. Their helmets only have a narrow slit for the eyes, and large shields that blocks their bodies from knee to shoulder and the entire width of their bodies. They carry long spears with a small banner at the top and heavy-looking swords by their hip. Matthias cold at the sight of them and his skin breaks out in gooseflesh. These soldiers have no visible cracks in their armor, and he has no idea how any weapon carried by the rebels will be enough to take down even one of these men.
Then his stomach drops once he notices who is leading the group. Lukas' slighter figure appears almost dwarfed next to the heavily armed soldiers with his light leathers, lacking helmet and shield, but he looks no less dangerous as he marches forward with his head held high and unnatural grace.
Of course, he would be here Matthias thinks bitterly, the kings most trusted and feared commander whose presence is enough to scare both guard and commoner all the same. He feels the strange pull in his chest wake to life again, just a soft presence, barely there but enough to let him know that Lukas might sense him too. He does not know if he should find it comforting or not, trapped as they are in this district and the king about to make a speech.
The groups of soldiers spread out on the podium, making a long intimidating line of glinting armor and revealing a man that walked safely between them. He now steps up in the middle of the stage to address the crowd. Lukas takes place next to the man that can only be the king, or rather one respectful step behind and he stares watchfully out over the crowd, searching for any threats.
Matthias does not know what he expected, but after so much time focusing their hate against the king, he did not expect him to look so human. He is average in height, maybe a little on the slender side, dressed finely in green and black, with and adorned chest plate but little other armor and with a narrow crown atop his head. He is just a man, and not a very intimidating one at that and still people avert their gaze the moment they see him.
Matthias understands why a few moments later, when the king's stare wanders over the crowd and a shudder wash over him once the gaze reaches their direction.
It is like the temperature suddenly drops and the air turns clammy around them, like the sun no longer exists and the worlds feels dark and cold, like there is no more joy or hope left in it. The king just gives off a sense of wrong and there is a dark power looming underneath the seemingly plain surface.
Then the king looks away and the feeling eases up, and Matthias heaves a sigh of relief as it is suddenly possible to breathe freely again.
On stage, the king makes a strange gesture with his hands and a glow of green swirls around the tips of his fingers. At the corner of his eye, Matthias sees Tino flinch back from the sight, only to collide with Berwald who holds him still and offers him a touch of comfort.
The rest of the crowd seems fearful, but none of them flinches back violently, making Matthias believe this might be a common occurrence at these sorts of events. He also realizes this must be quite a jarring experience for both Berwald and Tino, to see that the king truly possesses magic and that the stories told around a campfire in the outer districts hold truth and not just gossip. It makes the king a lot more dangerous than one might first assume. Lukas was the perfect example of just how deadly one man with magic can be.
When the king finally speaks, his voice reaches all over the district as if they were standing right beneath the podium. Matthias gives the other two a glance and sees Tino mouthing the word "magic," eyes wide in both fear and wonder.
'Clever', Matthias thinks to himself. This way everyone present can hear what the king has to say without him yelling and without people having to bully their way to the front of the square to hear him. That is if the archers and guards would have allowed that to begin with. It leaves quite the impact as well as it reminds them all he possesses a power they cannot even comprehend.
"Citizens of Alverton." The king's voice is sharp and angry, and Matthias feels a coil of satisfaction in his gut at knowing that the situation is causing the king to suffer, if only just a little. "Last night there was an incident in the inner circle of our beloved city. We lost resources that are vital in our ongoing war against the rebels threatening our peaceful life. I know that with the current situation, this must have been a frightening experience, but I assure you all, the situation is under control and the people responsible will be brought to justice."
The king's words do not appear to bring the people any comfort, but he does not seem to care and keeps talking.
"An incident such as this cannot be tolerated in a time like this when enemy forces are nearing our gates, because despite our best effort, the rebel army is closing in. The latest report will have them at our gates in a few days at most." There are gasps of horror in the crowd, but the king ignores that as well. "As security measure I order the city to lock down, effective immediately. Do not fear, they lack the forces and equipment to breach our city, but they will block us off from the rest of the world, cutting off supplies, attempt to starve us out of our homes." The king's voice is rising in volume and turns even sharper. "In order to make sure their siege upon the city will be short-lived I need every single person capable of fighting, to pick up arms in our defense until such a time when the rebels are defeated."
There is in an uproar in the crowd. A few brave people shout in protest, but the guards immediately move to attention, their posture shifts and they draw their weapons in preparation to fight them back. Atop the wall, the archers draw their weapons, and the crowd is cowed back into submission. "Silence!" The king roars, his voice echoing over them, tone now balancing on the edge of hysteria along with the fury of his people speaking against him and he gestures wildly with his arms, hands clenched into fists. The impression of a well-balanced man completely evaporates in an instant, replaced with that of a lunatic.
Matthias gives his friends a glance; they look just as horrified as the rest of the inhabitants. If the king orders everyone to fight, then it will not just be trained soldiers on future battlefields. The rebels are used to fighting soldiers trained for battle, loyal to the king and in some cases; they have even show that they enjoy the act of killing and stealing from people unable to defend themselves. With this new order from the king will force the rebels to fight people like themselves, not trained and only wanting to live a quiet life in peace.
If the war comes to battle outside the city, it will turn into a bloodbath and the innocents will surely be the ones to die in heaps before any soldier even enters the field.
The king crones on, gesturing in wide motions like this is a grand performance. "If we want to make it out victorious, we need everyone to do their part, and do it correctly. I will not tolerate failure, not from any of you. Failure is treachery and I will show you just how I deal with traitors!" His voice grows in volume and the crowd increasingly uneasy, judging from how people shuffle further away from the stage and a few even glance around for a way out.
A new group of guards marches on to the podium and amongst them, they are dragging along five chained people, all attached to one long line of chains with one guard holding on to either end.
Matthias's breath sticks in his throat and there is sweat trickling down his forehead at the sight sensing trouble, because the prisoners walking up on stage are not mere commoners. They are all wearing tunics and pants in guard colors, much like the ones they stole for themselves last night.
By his side, Tino is looking pale, his hands turning white where they twist around the hem of Berwald's tunic as he stares at the prisoner, having the same revelation. Berwald looks like he is grinding his teeth judging from how tense his jaw is and if looks could kill, the king would be dead a hundred times over.
The king wanders back and forth on the podium and gesturing towards the prisoners. "Last night there was a fire in one of our storerooms and we lost resources vital to us in the war." He pauses. These men were on duty last night and should have noticed something was wrong. They did not, therefor they have failed me, and they have failed you all!" His voice rises to a roar, as if he expects people to cheer at his resolve and demand the culprits' heads on spikes immediately.
Nobody does.
The whole situation feels bizarre to Matthias, and he wonders if the king truly cannot see how his people feel about him. The king talks as if he has the support of the entire kingdom, but not a single citizen has called out to back him up. The only people that do not cower away in fear are the soldiers and even they seem strangely detached from the situation. Then there is the guards turned prisoners without committing a proper crime. It is insane.
"For their failure," the king roars, "These men will pay with their lives!"
Deathly silence follows.
The king finally looks a little peeved at the lack of response and glares across the crowd, causing more people to avert their eyes. "Well," he says. "No reason to delay then. Time to chop off some heads." He gestures lazily and steps further back on the stage to leave the focus on the line of prisoners.
Mattias realizes he is shaking with the urge to act, to run up on stage and just end the king right here and now, before he can kill the soldiers that were just unlucky enough to be on guard on the wrong day, but he knows he will never even make it past the first fence. If the guards do not kill him, the archers surely will and any misstep means death. He feels strong fingers wrap around his upper arm hard enough to dig bruises into his skin and turns to see Berwald clutching his arm, ready to hold him back should he decide to do something foolish against his better judgement.
Tino is turning a sickly shade of green, and Matthias can just barely hear him muttering franticly under his breath. "What have we done? This is our fault. They didn't do anything wrong."
There are whispers of horror in the crowd now, but still, nobody dares to move.
The guards on the podium line up the prisoners and forces them to kneel at the edge of the stage, on display for all to see. One of them seems to realize the severity of the situation and panics. He pulls on the chain, screaming for mercy, but a guard quickly punches him in the gut, and he collapses, nearly resting his head on the ground while heaving for breath.
A few men, most likely servants judged by their clothing, rush forward with a wooden block and places it in the middle of the stage. The unease in the crowd increases and the tension is almost thick enough to taste and makes the hair at the back of Matthias' neck stand on edge.
The block looks heavily scarred from weapon marks and has a large groove facing the audience where the wood is stained dark brown, unmistakably from ages of bloodstains running over it.
Another servant steps up next to the block. He kneels and holds up a large scabbard as an offering, with a golden, jewel-encased sword hilt sticking out and waits.
Even more guards step up, these ones wearing less armor, but have black hood over their heads with cut out for their eyes. They unlock the first captured guard from the chain, drag him over the stage and forces him to kneel behind the block. They then push down on his shoulder so his head fits in the groove facing the audience and holds him still.
Most people's eyes stay locked on the poor man on the block, but Matthias feels the pull in his chest sharpen, and switches his gaze to the side where the king appears to be exchanging words with Lukas further at the back. This time his voice does not carry over the entire district, but he looks just as angry if even more so. It would appear the king and his commander are agreeing on how to handle the situation.
Lukas looks guarded and the strange feeling connecting the two of them in some way flutters like an anxious heartbeat atop his own and Matthias wonders if that is what Lukas feels from underneath a seemingly calm demeanor.
Then the king snaps his fingers before Lukas' face and Lukas freezes on the spot and the connection disappears so suddenly it makes Matthias gasp for breath as if he just got a punch to the gut.
Lukas' gaze seems locked on the king's fingers, which are weaving, slowly in another strange pattern and a gentle blue glow flows forth from them to wrap around Lukas' throat like a thin noose. Matthias doubts anyone but himself notices the little detail, busy as they are with watching the rest of the spectacle.
Lukas bows deeply and respectfully if a little stilted, and the king looks exceptionally pleased with himself as Lukas turns towards the crowd and steps forward with his head held high. He stops before the servant still holding the sword as an offering and unsheathes it slowly in a wide arc. He then raises it above his head to show it off to the crowd in a strange theatrical display.
The blade looks far too big for Lukas's stature, but he swings it in an elegant arch easily as if it weighs nothing and steps up next to the execution block where the prisoner is struggling desperately to get free and waits for a command.
The king steps up a few meters from the block, ready to address his audience once more. "Watch justice be done! Executing the order will be Trollbunden, a man without emotion, his judgement is pure, and the blood spilled today will wash away the sins of these men."
Matthias' blood boils underneath his skin. The king is spouting utter nonsense. Nobody's judgement can be pure when they cannot even control their own actions, and the blood will not wash away any sin, it will only stain Lukas' hands further and place more guilt on his conscience. Does the king really believe he is fooling anyone but himself? Maybe a few of his soldiers, but the audience about to watch the execution does not look convinced.
Lukas does not make a show of the affair of killing.
He merely swings the blade in s smooth arch and then it is over.
The crowd is so silent they can all hear the dull thud as the head hits the floorboards of the stage and rolls away from the block.
The next executions happen I rapid succession. The hooded guards drag the lifeless body away from the block and out of sight and then collect a new victim to hold down. Lukas swings the sword again, seemingly not bothered by the pleas for mercy and the blood that splatters across his clothing in the process.
At the third death, a woman in the noble district faints, but nobody dares move to help her and she lies there in a sad heap of expensive clothing. There is somebody retching somewhere judging by the sounds, not that Matthias cannot blame them, his own breakfast is sitting heavy in his stomach. Months of fighting and the sight of a bloody death still unsettles him and it terrifies how casually the people up on stage seem to treat the ending of a life.
Then it is all over just as quick as it begun, and Matthias feels in shock.
The district is deathly quiet, not even the sound of birds or even the wind.
Matthias just breathes trying not to feel sick himself and then the pull wakes to life again, a little hesitant and confused. On stage, Lukas lowers the sword and he suddenly lacks the carefully measured movement, the blade almost slipping from his fingers. It looks like he just woke up from a dream and does not recognize where he is. It is barely noticeable, Matthias doubts anyone else in the crowd notices, and he would not have if not for the strange connection between them that drew his attention.
The king almost skips back on stage, dancing between the bloodstains on the flooring. "So now that that is out of the way, let us talk about the other point on today's agenda," he says lightly, his voice once again projected over the district disturbingly cheery.
"As I mentioned earlier, my soldiers have spotted the rebel army and the filthy scum are only days away from our beloved city and we need every single body available to fight them back once they arrive, or we will have people starving to death inside the walls. This is of course unacceptable and so I order every person above the age of 12 and without an essential job to join the rank of soldier and basic training will begin immediately."
The crowd snaps out of their daze, roaring in protest and screaming obscenities. Matthias feels squished between people as the crowd surges forwards to hang on the fencing and throws fists in the king's direction. They were angry when the king mentioned mandatory military service, but the minimum age on the soldiers to bee seem to push their limits too far. There are parents in the crowd desperately holding on to their older children, facing the horror of knowing the king wants them out on a battlefield where they will most likely die and screaming in agony.
The guards snap to attention and aims their spears towards the people to force them back making a deadly line of sharp weapons.
Matthias sees Berwald hauling Tino further back from the fence and the aggressive guards, holding him around the middle as he screams in protest and fights against the hold, clearly wanting to fight himself. "They're only children," he screams and elbows Berwald in to gut, but Berwald pulls him further back from the fence and the sharp weapons. "They can't fight a war. They're innocent!"
Similar protests ring out from all different districts until it is a constant roar. Matthias pulls back from the fence as well, sticking close to Berwald so they will not lose each other in the chaos.
Then one man from the merchant district jumps over the fence, darts past the guard and weave between the more scattered nobles, determination etched into every fiber of his being. Rather foolish of him, unarmed as he is.
On stage, Lukas goes into a defensive position in front of the king, but he does not ever bother drawing his weapons and watches almost lazily as the man plows through the crowd.
When the man jumps the last fence before the podium, three arrows thuds into him almost simultaneously and he crashes to the ground, dead. Behind the safety of Lukas, the king just tilts his head curiously.
This time, the careless display of violence does nothing to settle the crowd.
This time, it infuriates them.
A whole group of people rushes forwards with furious screams from both the outer districts, swarming the guard by the fences and jumping the fences separating the districts or knocking them over completely. The nobles scatter towards the walls seeking shelter and leaving room for the angry commoners and merchants that makes it past the guards and rush towards the stage.
"Enough!" The king screams, his voice echoing louder than before.
"Stop them!" He orders, and weaves his fingers again and the same blue tendrils of power Matthias noticed earlier reaches Lukas who steps forward unsheathing one of his twin blades and jumps down onto the ground below the podium before the rushing horde, still perfectly calm.
When the first commoner attempts to rush him, Lukas easily sidesteps and swings his blade and stabs it through the commoner's neck, killing him instantly.
Lukas pulls the body of the dead commoner to himself and draws out the sword slowly, holding the man up by the collar of his shirt like ragdoll. The air pressure changes and Matthias' hair stands on end. His hand automatically goes to the pouch at his hip as a feeling of dread washes over him.
Blue smoke curls around Lukas, along with blood from the dead commoner and Matthias' memory flashes back to the time Lukas broke free of imprisonment using life energy from Brynjar and he expects a similar bloodbath.
Berwald and Tino also seem to catch on and fight against the flood of people to get away from the stage.
People are screaming now, but no longer in rage, but fear. It seems they share the same fear.
The people not storming the stage attempt to get away from it, pushing each other out of the way, but there is nowhere to run. There are too many people packed together, the doors leading out are still shut, and they are left to cower in fear where they are.
The people closest and storming towards the podium freeze simultaneously, mid-run. Matthias can see the fear in their eyes when they realize they are unable to move from the spot they stand in. They can still move their arms and turn their heads, but their legs are frozen and they look at each other and the commander in fear.
In the background, the king is laughing manically and it echoes across the square. "Teach them a lesson!" he orders.
Lukas lets go of the dead commoner and holds out his now free hand, staring blankly ahead. Ever so slowly, he forms a fist, tighter and tighter and the poor, frozen commoners begin clawing at their throats, eyes bulging in panic and faces slowly turning red from lack of oxygen.
The kings jumps down from the stage and step up, next to his commander and takes Lukas' sword from his hand. He moves it around in a lazy circle, pacing in front of the frozen citizens. "Is this really how you treat you king?" He asks loudly, addressing the whole crowd.
"I only act in your best interest, and you pay me back with disrespect and anger. I only ask of one thing from you lot, loyalty. Now let us all calm down a bit. Why don't you lot," he gestures with the blade towards the crowd remaining behind their appropriate fences, "get back and leave my guards alone. I would hate to teach all of you another lesson." He uses the blade and seemingly counts the people suspended by Lukas' spell. "We still have 12 more lessons I can teach you before this has to turn truly ugly."
The crowd properly terrified draws even further back. Those that were busy jumping the fence before, climbs back over, not daring to take their eyes off the king and the overwhelmed guards stagger back to their feet and reforms the strong line of defense between the districts. Most of them looks like they want to punch in a few faces, but carefully hold back their anger. Slowly the guards seem to take the situation back under control, the crowd properly subdued once again.
A few unfortunate commoner and soldier lie behind unmoving by the fences, fallen victims of the chaos.
"That is what I thought," The king says and returns to the stage, he hands of the sword to a servant and turns towards his people again. He kicks one of the heads off the stage and into the crowd, much to everyone's horror. "Now return to your duties!" he roars. "Announcements will be made in the coming days and I expect you all to comply or face the consequences!"
The doors to the different districts opens and people flee the square, quick as they can. Matthias notices several needing to be help up from the ground by others and a few are bleeding from smaller cuts or limping. A few more have fainted and the stench of puke is spreading rapidly. Matthias feels a little shaky himself as the guards begin to herd them all out, but he hesitates.
"Guards, bring these men to the dungeons." The king's voice is lower now, but he is still projecting to let them know what will happen to traitors. "Maybe some time behind bars will teach them a lesson and quell their rebellious behavior."
Lukas lowers his hand and lets the magic go. The frozen commoners gasp for air as they collapse to the ground and before they have a chance to collect themselves; several guards march down from the podium with sets of chains and drag them along towards the door at the back of the podium where the king first exited.
Matthias cannot take his eyes off Lukas, even as people shove past him. Lukas who walks up to his king and seem to exchange a few words with him. They are already close to the door behind the stage and about to disappear out of sight and then the king slaps the commander harshly.
Lukas's head snaps to the side, but he barely seems affected. He only bows respectfully, takes up his place one pace behind the king, and they vanish through the door.
It sends a jolt of fear through Matthias. The king appears to be tired of his commander, which bodes badly for Lukas, who might beginning to run out of time if Matthias wants to save him from both himself and the king. He does not have time to ponder the subject further however, before there is a tug on his shirt and he stumbles.
"Come on Matt," Berwald almost growls and hauls him away from the spot he felt almost rooted to. "We have to leave!" He is also pushing an apathetic Tino ahead of him towards the exit and moves with long, determined strides.
Berwald and Tino does not appear to have notices the discontent within the king's ranks and neither does anyone else, not that Matthias can blame them. They are all too busy trying to get away.
The trip back to the safe house passes mostly in a blur.
Everybody must be in a state of shock because most people remain unnaturally silent and move through the streets as if trapped in a dream, barely looking at where they are going.
The crowd dissipates quickly once they are past the first door, people aiming for their own homes. The small group of rebels stop only once, and only long enough for Tino to empty his stomach behind a decorative flowerpot in a small back alley before the move on.
Matthias feels does not know how to feel, his head feels filled with noise. He looks forward to some sleep, wanting to put this awful day behind him. All thought on how to move forwards banished from the forefront of his mind, he just wants for this war to be over and no more lives to be lost unnecessarily.
The safe house is finally within sight, and then their already horrible day turns even worse.
Leaning against their front door is a figure dressed in all black rags and smelling heavily of sewage even from several meters away, a person Matthias hoped never to see again, the rat king himself.
At the sound of their footsteps, he looks up, smiles cruelly with a row of crooked, yellow teeth, and there is an evil glimmer in his beady eyes as his eyes meet them.
"Well, well, well" he says sweetly, and the three rebels freeze on the spot to stare at him. "You were taking so long to get back here; I almost thought you got arrested in that little squabble in the square. I'm glad to see you're not, why don't we step inside and have a little chat? We definitely have some catching up to do."