Hello, folks, hope everyone is staying safe – and warm – through this whole lousy weather we're having. Someone on DeviantArt whose works I follow says even Texas is experiencing bitter cold winter this year. Another respondent to her work said he lived in Connecticut (close to where I live) and that he had to cancel his game training plans because a damn broke, but hey, no snow, right? And I hear it isn't much better in the UK either.
Wherever you folks like, I hope you all are keeping warm and safe, preferably indoors. Hopefully, once the weather turns nice, we'll have some time to enjoy it before the sweltering-hot summer starts.
And on that note, let's continue.
0-0-0-0-0
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Shadowchasers
The Demonskar Legacy
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Chapter Two
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Listening to Fear
"Whoa…" said Francis.
If the typical student at Colfer was asked to describe the academy library in one word, the word was usually "big". From the outside, the place was a modest two-story affair, and a casual visitor would find a typical library within, with shelves containing textbooks and a reading room. The real library could only be accessed with someone who had a school ID or a special visitor's pass, and if you had one, well, that is where the "whoa" comes in.
Try to imagine a skyscraper, except hollow on the inside, with a complex system of staircases and catwalks within, and you will get a general idea. Shelves containing thousands of books not only covered the interior walls, but hovered in midair, some of them near the stars and catwalks, and others - the ones holding the rarer and more dangerous books of magic - that seemed physically inaccessible. Francis assumed students with a certain level of seniority knew some way to access what they needed quicker, but that did not include him.
Of course, this library had a catalogue, as most libraries did, which was in the form of a tome on a pedestal right in front of him, and fortunately, he didn't have to wait for someone else to finish using it. All he'd have to do was say "Old Law of Peers" and assuming any book in this library had information on that subject, the catalogue would direct him to it. Hopefully, it -
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mills."
Fortunately, as startled as he was, Francis managed to keep from shouting with surprise - after all, this library also had strict rules against making noise.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Well, this is… different."
Sonya never realized how quaint and comfortable the cathedral's refectory could be, especially at this rare time in the afternoon when it was mostly empty, with a cozy fireplace providing warmth. It was the perfect place where she, Maddie, and Red Feather could talk and relax. "Different" was how she described the odd drink that Coffee had whipped up, which seemed to consist of peppermint and brandy combined with his usual iced coffee with goat milk. His sudden surge of creativity was her fault, seeing as she was the one who told him about Irish coffee, prompting him to try different variations on the theme. This, at least, seemed okay.
"Hard to believe we have any free time at all."
"Been a while since I've had any… girl talk," said Maddie.
"I've never been all too keen on socializing either," added Red, "though I… have thought of finally dating…"
"Trying to find your unicorn, huh? You know, I thought I had once. Was an actual unicorn, in fact. Then he humped and dumped me because I wasn't a virgin anymore, and he kinda ruined other men for me in, you know, a certain department… and…"
Maddie and Red thought for a few seconds that they were in for more of her bizarre stories, but Sonya changed to a more serious tone quickly. "Look, thing is, the dream I had… Like you said before, Red, it seemed like something I should have known for a long time, like a suppressed memory that someone didn't want me to have."
"Sonya, I truly doubt that Hell is anything like it is in some old Japanese cartoon."
"Anime, Red, not 'cartoon'."
"Whatever. Listen, not that I am a skeptic by any means, but the idea of this… HFIL place being real sounds… juvenile."
"Well, why couldn't it be?" asked Maddie. "Maybe Hell is one of those places where each individual soul views it in a different way, and that if someone were such a fan of those old shows, he'd see it as… uhm… I just made it worse, huh?"
Sonya nodded and looked a lot more nervous now. She had, in fact, previously had the same opinion Red did, that Hell could not have possibly been anything some manga writer had thought up, and that her dream made no sense… But now Maddie's suggestion actually did make sense. Sort of.
She put her coffee down and stood up. "Look, the biggest problem here is… well…THIS."
She quickly grabbed hold of the edges of her shirt and lifted it up to expose her midriff.
"What the fuck?" gasped Maddie.
"Yeah, that was my first impression too."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Oh, uh, sorry about that," said Professor Harada.
It wasn't so much the librarian's sudden appearance that had startled Francis; it was more about him pouncing from above and landing in front of him. Harada was well-known to be an eccentric genius among Colfer, and very hard to get used to even for a Shadowchaser.
He was a sarugami, a Yokai of the House of Surging Flame. Francis had at first wondered why such a Shadow would be appointed the librarian - books tend to burn easily, after all - but he would get the answer quickly. Harada was an odd-looking fellow, combining the features of a tall man with that of a chimpanzee, his bright red hair often moving in such a way to resemble flames. His burgundy-colored suit with a blue tie along with his sunglasses (his eyes were bloodshot from reading so much) made him seem a living anachronism, formal and bestial at the same time.
"I assume you weren't keen on staying at the assembly to ask questions." He offered his hand, helping Francis up. "I guess professor Haskar hasn't lost his touch if you came here for entertainment."
"Haha," said Francis, "Actually, as long as you're here I need information on something called the Old Law of Peers. That ring any bells? A friend of mine needs it for some project and -"
The smarmy look on Harada's face made him regret saying that as soon as he said it. "Hmm…" he said, "usually students who come in here on behalf of 'a friend' are looking for books on dating, but… actually, I think I know where that is, this way…"
Well, that wascertainly embarrassing, but maybe this wouldn't take as long as he had assumed.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
It was there in plain sight on Sonya's belly, the unexplained scar she had in that strange dream. A wound that suggested she had been impaled through the stomach with a knife or a sword, yet miraculously survived. Even Red Feather seemed frightened at the sight of it.
She remembered how the dream started, how she had plummeted into the HFIL covered with bruises from some brutal battle, this horrible wound likely what had delivered the final blow. She had fought someone, she had lost, and she had died, her soul sent into that awful place, but given a chance to win back her life, and spent what seemed like years trying to earn that chance. But she woke from the nightmare, as if she had missed the beginning and ending of a movie where she had been the star.
"Not pretty, right?" She covered herself and sat down again. "Molmo said if I won their gladiator game fiasco, they'd send me back alive mere seconds after… this happened. The problem is, I have no idea what it was.
"Okay, okay, let us assume the worst," said Red Feather. "Assuming you were indeed killed and went through this 'trial' you speak of. You are alive now, you are safe, so it seems you did not make the same mistake a second time."
"But the scar was not there before I went to bed! Here, look."
Sonya took her mobile phone out - while there was no service on Cauldron, there were many selfies still stored in memory; she scrolled to one she had recently opened, then showed it to Red Feather. It was a photo of herself at a beach wearing a bikini - the date indicating the previous summer. There was no scar there.
"Molmo had made some joke about 'not making the same mistake' a second time. Think I would remember a fight this bad."
"Maybe it hasn't happened yet."
"What?"
"Well…" Maddie stopped and thought for a few seconds, mumbling, "Goes here, then there, then…" Then out loud she said, "Yeah, maybe it hasn't happened yet! The fight happened sometime in the future, and you passed the trial, but they made a mistake and sent you too far back, like last night, and…" She noticed the look on Sonya's face, evident that she had done it again. "Sorry…"
Red Feather looked uncomfortable at the suggestion too. "Not very reassuring to suggest that the Powers that Be could make such mistakes."
"They seem to do it a lot, actually," said Sonya, "and it's the only thing that makes sense. All the…" She laughed nervously. 'Well, forewarned is forearmed, right?"
"Anyone need a refill?"
Sonya turned to see Coffee, holding the coffee pot. She held her cup forward and asked, "Think we're going to need a whole second pot of it here, Coffee…"
The door to the refectory opened, and the acolyte turned his head as Nichole and Hank came in. "Better go wash some cups too," he said.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
After leading Francis up a flight of stairs, a catwalk, and another flight of stairs, Harada had brought him to the section of the library that would be listed as 349 in a typical card catalog: Laws of Specific Jurisdictions.
"Let's see," he said. He rubbed his chin looking off the side of the catwalk, then towards one of the floating shelves about fifty or so feet away. Then he did the unthinkable, he leapt off the catwalk, towards the set of shelves he had been looking at, grabbing hold of a hand hold on one of the individual shelves.
Which, of course, had been put there for that specific purpose. Being able to climb the way his animal half could was certainly a benefit for someone in a library this large. No doubt, he wouldn't have even needed the handholds at all, but they did make it easier.
Working his way up to the top, it took him a minute or two to find the exact book he needed, taking an old leather-bound text from a high shelf, and then quickly bringing it back to the catwalk. A search that might have taken Francis a good three hours to complete had been easily done in only a few minutes.
Here we go! He removed his sunglasses, replacing them with reading glasses. Court records regarding procedure from the 7th year of the reign of Claudius Spellmason. That would be around…" he stopped and made a quick calculation. "...1597, approximately."
"Who was that, Spellmason's son?"
"Grandson, actually. Thus, Claudius was the third Lord Governor of Cauldron… Needless to say, much of the edicts written in this journal are outdated by several centuries, but fortunately, dwarven is a language that hasn't changed much since."
The catwalk itself had several tables with chairs meant for reading, one of which they quickly occupied as Harada carefully started to leaf through the pages.
"Here we are, the Old Law of Piers." He cleared his throat and started to read. "By order of Lord Governor of Cauldron, and with the approval of the ruling council, the following process may be initiated by anyone who shares the blood of Suramar Spellmason or either of the Founders of the Principality of Cauldron - there are some names and titles listed here, I assume those are unnecessary?" Francis nodded, so he continued, summarizing slightly "...the following process may be initiated by someone related to one of those individuals (henceforth referred to as 'the Accuser') should an official in the administration, employ, and/or service of the government of Cauldron (henceforth referred to as 'the Accused') prove incompetent and/or corrupt, and believed to have committed malevolent actions contrary to the requirements of his position, that threatened the safety or well-being of Cauldron as a whole (such actions henceforth referred to as 'the Crime'), by the judgment, interpretation, and opinion of the Accuser.
"Terms are as follows: the Accuser must submit a written document to the current Lord Governor (or, should the Lord Governor be the Accused, one or more of his immediate subordinates), identifying the Accused, while explaining as thoroughly as possible the nature of the Crime, the reasons why he feels the Accused has committed this Crime, and the actions the Accused has undertaken while pursuing the Crime. This accusation can be rendered void if evidence can be presented by anyone with appropriate authority in that manner (beyond reasonable doubt) that the Accuser submitted it under duress or under false pretenses. Forged accusations are also void. If not, reply from the Accused and compliance with the terms of this edict is required in no less than one week's time, but no more than two weeks' time, at which point the issue is to be decided by…" Harada stopped, adjusted his glasses, and read the following part more carefully. "...judicial combat in a public forum…"
Francis could understand why Harada had hesitated there, this already seemed insane to his point of view. "As in, trial by combat?" he asked. "To the death? In public?"
Harada nodded but continued to read. "Should the Accused be convicted via this method - I, uhm, assume that would mean the Accuser kills him - the Accuser assumes whatever position the Accused held prior to the crime, with all rights and responsibilities thereof. Should the Accused be acquitted by this method, the crime is to be permanently stricken from all records and is never to be revisited."
"And… this law is still valid?
"Well, I suppose so, but I do not believe it has been enforced for a very long time. You should see some of the other antiquated laws in these books. Heh, there's one old law I know of that states a goblin is forbidden to ride a boar without a proper barding, which is itself redundant because -"
"Professor, hold it hold it, sorry to interrupt here, but… let me put it this way, if it turned out that I was a distant cousin of Spellmason, and I believed Duke Pendergast had embezzled money from the City Treasury… I could make a public challenge to fight him, then kill him, and take over his position?"
"Well… yes. And if that occurred, then in the eyes of the founders, such an accomplishment would be undisputable proof of his guilt. I'm no expert on dwarven religion, but many clans in those times believed in a concept called the Mandate of Heaven."
Francis was at a loss as to what that was, so Harada explained further. "The Mandate of Heaven was a concept similar to Divine Right of Kings but with conditions. The concept claimed that if a ruler was fair and just, the gods would approve of his rule and grant peace and prosperity to the ruler's subjects. But they also believed a ruler could lose that approval. Should a kingdom experience undo and unexplained disasters or hardships, it might mean that the gods were displeased, and that those who recognized this as the cause had a right to take that authority away.
"Nowadays, few still take the idea of a Mandate of Heaven to heart, but it seems this is a law passed by those who did still honor it, which it seems, due to lack of use, was forgotten and never changed. I mean, this whole section requiring a submission of a written document may have been put there to ensure that it was never used frivolously by a disgruntled townsfolk, seeing as one would need to be literate in order to do so. only a literate person could do it. It was the 16th Century, after all."
Almost forgotten, thought Francis, as it seemed clear what was happening. Hardships and disasters… Slavers kidnapping children, torrential rainstorms, the umber hulk…. And now these new reforms and the Alleybashers enforcing them… All is just right for someone to bring out an obsolete law and exploit it.
Damn… Nichole is going to flip her shit when she hears this.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
As Nichole and Hank sat down, Maddie shook her head and looked sadly as Coffee left the room. "I'm starting to feel like a freeloader," she said.
"Well, we don't have any other place here to live," added Sonya.
"...yet!" That one word from Nichole seemed to show she was in a far better mood and more optimistic mood than usual. "Hank and I think we found a place we can crash at. Take a look at this."
She turned her own mobile towards them showing a selfie of herself in front of a quaint-looking townhouse.
"This place is for lease?" asked Maddie.
"It's for sale to own, love," replied Hank." "Two floors plus basement, in primo condition, plus furnishing and carpeting included."
"I doubt our current funds are enough…"
"Actually, we have more than enough," said Nichole, "the bank where we opened that account has been trying to sell this place for the past seven years, and it's well within our price rang
Of course, looking at the nice house, the idea that it would be such a bargain seemed very hard to believe, and given the nature of this city, Sonya figured out why quickly: "Haunted, cursed, or owned by a serial killer?"
"All three actually," replied Nichole, "the house used to belong to Dr. Poppov de Plume, the coroner at the morgue." Seeing everyone's reaction, she added, "Yes, silly name aside, he was dangerous. Seems he was using a lot of autopsy subjects for illegal necromantic experiments, and a lot of his 'patients' ended up there via his actions."
"They put a necromancer in charge of the morgue?"
"No, that's the point, Sonya, he was not a necromancer. The folks at the bank aren't even sure he was a wizard, at least not the most competent one. A lot of stuff he was doing was under the direction of some… 'friends from out of town'."
"Meaning, I assume, 'friends from the other side', he didn't fulfill his side of the contract, and they decided to 'foreclose' on it?"
"Exactly. Anyway, we did the standard scan of the place, there's some hot spots of moderate intensity, but nothing we haven't dealt with before, we just have to show up at the bank on Thursday, fill out some paperwork, and then we can -"
"Thursday? That's when Dorisan is giving his speech."
"Well, we -"
"And we'd best show up there." Francis entered the room, the fatigue from running over from Colfer evident.
"Uhm, bad news?"
"You might say that. Dorisan is trying to exploit a bad situation and probably make it worse…"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
A quick explanation later, Francis' initial hunch that Nichole would "flip her shit" was inaccurate. After he explained what the Old Law of Peers was and what Harada told him about the reasoning behind it, she looked incredibly worried, but didn't reply immediately.
"Trial by combat?" gasped Maddie. "Publicly?"
"Ahem, 'judicial combat'," corrected Sonya. "Seems they used 'political doublespeak' long before it was popular."
"Sounds to me the folks who run this town would love to see a dispute resolved that way - so long as it didn't involve them."
"It happens a lot, actually," said Hank. "A good rule of thumb while making a law that might be controversial is, 'never hand someone a gun unless you know who he intends to point it at'."
"Then the first thing we must do," said Red Feather, "is discover who made such a challenge, and then who his target is."
"The first should be easy," said Maddie, "we just have to find out who around here is related to Spellmason or his partners, and who would actually want to -"
"Gregory." Everyone turned to Nichole. "He qualifies, it was the biggest reason Donnie wanted him here in the first place."
"Afraid to say this," added Maddie, "I hope it isn't him, but if it were, it would explain a lot."
"He'd been missing for a month," said Sonya. "You think maybe someone got to him first?"
"Okay," said Nichole, "obviously this warrants attention. Hank and I will handle the paperwork at the bank, and everyone else will attend this - hopefully organized and peaceful - protest that Dorisan is holding. If we find out that Gregory is involved then, we'll take it from there."
She honestly had no idea what she would do if that turned out to be the case; she was starting to wonder just who was on whose side at this point, and whether or not she was on the right one.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Two days later.
March 15th
The square before the angular, three-story complex that comprised Cauldron's town hall was already nearly full of civilians, with several hundred people milling about. As four of the Shadowchasers reached the edge of the gathering, they spotted the "master of ceremonies". Dorisan he was standing on a small platform directly opposite the entrance to the building, haranguing the crowd.
He was finely dressed in an old-fashioned jerkin and breeches, both royal blue with sequins. Still, he wasn't wearing them simply with fashion in mind. Both Red and Francis recognized the runes on the embroidery as protective magic sigils. He had come expecting trouble.
"Friends! Can you not see what is happening here? Our coffers are drained, and our hard-earned bread is going to a ragged band of outlander brigands and thugs!"
The listeners seemed receptive, and as they watched, Dorisan paused for a reaction and clearly got one, drawing a number of cheers from his audience.
"Everyone spread out but not too much out," said Francis. "Keep within eyesight of each other."
"Oh brother," said Maddie, "look over there."
She nodded her head, indicating someone among the spectators she knew. A thin, seedy-looking man with messy hair. It was Todd Vanderboren, one of the Stormblades.
The Shadowchasers had run afoul of those folks a few times since they had first come to Cauldron. They were a group of young, entitled socialite glory hounds who claimed they were "adventurers", but weren't very competent at it, and seemed to resent anyone who was.
Red, Francis, and Maddie had been embarrassed at the Demonskar Ball by two of these miscreants after being railroaded into an exhibition duel; they had been cast as the "heels" in a mock-battle, although Maddie had managed to get some satisfaction by taking Todd to the cleaners at the gambling tables. But what really upset the Shadowchasers was how, after they had taken down the Ebon Triad and found the wands of water control that they had to use to stem the flooding, the Stormblades had gone into the caves to loot everything that was left, including much of the credit.
Still, as annoying as Annah, Cora, and Richemont were, Todd was just plain nasty. Maddie and Sonya were about to move away and ignore him, but unfortunately, he noticed them before they could.
"Well, ladies," he said. "Didn't notice you without the showgirl duds."
Of course, he was talking about the costumes they had been required to wear for the masquerade ball. As risqué as those costumes were, they were very expensive and lent to them for free, so who were they to complain?
"I barely recognized you when you're sober Todd. Dare I ask why you're here?"
Todd made a grunt, but cleared his throat and answered in a tone as dignified as he could manage. "Same reason you and your friends are here, I suppose. Annah's folks think Dorisan has some good ideas, so the Stormblades are on the case."
"Where are the others?" asked Sonya.
"They're all… uhm… They're watching… covertly. In… in disguise!"
"Let me guess, the four of you drew lots to decide who would come here, and you drew the short straw?"
"Yes…" groaned Todd, in a dejected tone. "But, but, Dorisan does have some good ideas, and he does have a point. Protests like this have a way of turning ugly, though this lot doesn't seem to be the typical hoi polloi."
While both Sonya and Maddie didn't like that term, it seemed Todd's assessment was true; most of those gathered had the look of merchants or craftsmen, with a smattering of those less well-off scattered into the mix.
Meanwhile, Red Feather was scanning the area as only an elf like herself could. Several town watch officers and a few Alleybashers were standing guard by the adjoining streets, many of them focused on Dorisan, but she figured such attention wasn't unusual for such an event.
"RED!" shouted a shrill, squeaky voice. "Red Feather!"
Red was both startled and surprised to see who it was. She had almost completely forgotten about Kandy.
During the Flood Festival crisis, Maddie had found an odd journal in the Ebon Triad's lair. It seemed to have no dangerous magical wards on it, but was written in drow language, a tongue that most scholars were unable or unwilling to translate.
Kandy was a scribe whom Red had found in Cauldron's black market who was willing, able, and eager, though goblins were a type who tended to have profit in mind. She was in the same cheery mood Red had remembered, but… she also had a nasty shiner on her right eye.
Had she been in a fight?
"So sorry this took so long, Red, heh, kind of got sidetracked." Red Feather was about to inquire about the injury, but Kandy quickly shoved two items into her hands - one was the journal, the other was a notebook.
"Here ya go, and don't worry about the second payment, late completion discount here. Nice working with -"
"Kandy!" The goblin was obviously in a rush to leave, but Red Feather's forceful stating of her name made her stop and pay attention to the Shadowchaser.
"Where did you get that?" Red Feather asked forcefully pointing to her eye.
"This? Oh, this, right. Uh, nothing, just a turf fight of sorts… Happens a lot, I mean, it certainly was not a result of being arrested or interrogated or anything, I mean, where do you mainlanders come up with that stuff?"
"I didn't. You did."
"Look, I'm… I'm fine, Red, really. Being in Mulgo's Pocket is dangerous. I wasn't lying to you when I told you I was working there to pay for college tuition. You get what I'm sayin' here?"
Red closed her eyes and nodded. The answer to that question was a definite yes. She could in fact, relate.
She let go of Kandy's wrist and said simply, "You know where we are, correct?"
Kandy nodded back, and made her leave, bounding away and out of the crowd. Red Feather briefly looked at the two books she had given her, one being the original journal, and the other the translation. It was tempting to read it now, but this was hardly the right time or place, so she shoved both into her satchel, and then focused on listening to Dorisan.
While all this was happening, Francis was listening to the speech with as much scrutiny as he could muster. Dorisan was clearly a skilled orator and had the full attention of the fervor-filled crowd.
"I ask, friends, what exactly has this new policy given us? Five blocks from here on Magma Avenue is a condemned building once used as a hotel. Two weeks ago, two members of the city guard took ten of their 'mercenaries' into the place to arrest a group of folks who were 'squatting', using the building as a shelter. Not much of one, I might add, the building is a barely livable deathtrap.
"Why were they there, you ask? A bigger question is why the building was there. It was closed down and repossessed twenty years ago, when the city discovered it was being used as an opium den by the tlincallis crime boss, Ruugnar the Ravager. He went to prison, and the hotel was sold to a gang of troglodytes who claimed to be opening a free clinic funded by charity. Not one member of this gang was a licensed doctor, and their true funding was trafficking the organs of patients. Since then, for twenty years the only purpose this building has had is a front for lowlife criminals or a flophouse for vagrants, but while the city gladly pays 'mercenary' squads to arrest anyone there, never once do they propose renovating or even demolishing the place! And it is far from the only place in Cauldron that is sorely in need of removal or repair. The city calls this 'prioritization of allotted funds', but I call it blatant greed!"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Slightly outside the crowd, a short man in a hood was listening intently to Dorisan's speech, now and again writing things down on a notepad. By his feet were two large canines that looked like great Danes.
It was, of course, the same man Red Feather had noticed lurking below her window the other night, but she barely acknowledged him then, and certainly, nobody noticed him now.
One of his dogs barked loudly at one of Dorisan's statements, and he nodded in reply.
"Indeed, Penelope, this is quite the curious individual. Interesting and aggravating at the same time. Sort of like a shock jock."
Then the other hound made a low growl, nodding its head towards the town hall building. The strange man took a pocket watch out of his vest and looked at it. "Hmm, that didn't take long."
The second dog barked at him, and he again nodded back, putting the watch away. "No, Isabelle, I do believe we can stay a little longer. This should be entertaining at the very least."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"The blatant greed shown by the city's rulers is why many of our less fortunate citizens need shelter to begin with. All of you know of the recent torrential flooding, I presume?" The cheering of the crowd was enough to confirm that most of them had. "The damage done to the lower circle of the city could easily have been avoided, had they not 'deprioritized' the official policy used to protect the city from the flooding rains for two centuries. Instead, they chose to allot the lion's share of their funds to the Festival and to their Demonskar Ball, putting the safety of their city second in favor of a carnival and a private masquerade party for the well-fed elites!"
Francis held his forehead in frustration - Dorisan's comments there were mostly exaggerated, slightly untrue, and heavily hypocritical. The "official policy" had been originally adapted - and subsequently "deprioritized" by the churches, and while he could see the whole idea of the Demonskar Ball as wasteful, Dorison was not only there, he was the emcee for the whole mock combat "ritual". Though he had also told them that he had not been planning to come, only doing so when he was told the Shadowchasers were the designated heels.
Still, even if anyone in the crowd knew this, it didn't matter. He had their full and complete attention, and he was going for the coup de grace.
"And I tell you, friends, that the administration of this city is corrupt! Why, I tell you true, Prefect of the Cudgel Gregory Mares, a righteous and holy servant of St. Cuthbert, has offered a challenge at arms to that corrupt dog Sergeant - oh excuse me, Lieutenant L'roy Zhent." The tone of his voice was a clear indication that he did not believe Zhent's relatively recent promotion was deserved. "Why has this challenge not been publicized or even acknowledged? Where is the response of the city leaders to these charges? I think we know where our hard-earned money is going, friends!"
The crowd roared its approval, but none of the Shadowchasers did so. Nichole's assumption had been confirmed, in the worst possible way.
Francis' Duel Disk on his arm vibrated and the incoming call light was flashing. Nichole was calling to check on them.
"Sorry this is taking so long, they have something of a backlog of appointments today. Any news?"
"Yeah, all bad, unfortunately." Francis gave a quick synopsis of what Dorison had been saying, emphasizing that he had confirmed Gregory as the "accuser" and Zhent as the "accused", but no information - yet - on the specific grudge against Zhent.
"Zhent does seem like someone who is hard to like…" Francis could tell that Nichole was trying hard to choke back tears as she replied. "Has he said anything about where Gregory is?"
"Afraid not."
"Okay… Stay a little longer and see if he does, then get out of there if all seems well. If not… get out if you can. If you can't, hit the alert key and we'll try to get there for backup."
"Okay, we -"
"Francis!" cried Maddie.
"Uh, Nichole, I'll get back to you. Dorisan got on someone's bad side."
He and the other Shadowchasers saw what had alerted Maddie. A knot of armed guardsmen had issued from the main gate of the town hall. One was Zhent himself, behind him were a half-dozen soldiers, and about ten Alley Bashers, each standing at least a head taller than most of the people in the crowd. One was a rhoxodan (a big, tough, ugly, muscular Shadowkind with a rhinoceros head) another was a daedon (just as big, tough, ugly, and muscular, but with a boar's head). The Shadowchasers certainly recognized those two, and it wasn't a pleasant memory, but now was not the time to confront them. Three more of the Alley Bashers were hobgoblins, and the rest were half-orcs.
The sudden and unsubtle appearance of the squad was greeted with a chorus of boos and hisses, but they moved aside as Zhent's men pushed and bullied their way through the crowd towards Dorisan. However, the merchant himself didn't seem as willing to yield.
"Well, well," he said, "seems the fearless leader of our city's finest has decided that now is the time to serve and protect."
There was some laughter from the crowd, and more booing directed at Zhent, and he was not amused. The Lieutenant cursed under his breath and then shouted, "That's enough, Dorison! You're under arrest, put your hands in the air!"
Dorison closed his eyes and chuckled slightly, but then seemed like he was about to comply, lifting his arms with his open palms forward. Naturally, the crowd wasn't happy, shouting insults and curse words, while some miscreants started throwing food and garbage at Zhent and his men.
And then, someone - someone the Shadowchasers couldn't see - shouted, "Let's teach these mongrel bastards a lesson!"
There was a flash of a knife, and one of the half-orc Alleybashers screamed, the assailant stabbing him from behind, impaling him, the knife piercing his chest and out through the front of his chest.
"No…" gasped Francis.
Dorisan's speech had brought this crowd's anger to a boiling point, and it had now boiled over, the ambush on the unfortunate mercenary having unleashed the gathered fury of the crowd. The sea of protesters surged against the suddenly hard-pressed constabulary, who were quickly forced back into a circle. Several were bleeding from wounds sustained in the initial rush; although few of the gathered protestors had weapons, they were quick to hurl small stones, foodstuffs, or whatever else was at hand. The constables used the butts of their weapons to keep the mob away from them, and a number of protestors were quickly laid out on the cobblestones, stunned and bruised. One stepped into the sweep of a blade as its half-orc user thrust the haft of the weapon into the face of a young man in the tailored jacket of a scribe; both men went down, the scribe's jaw broken, the other clutching a gash that stretched across his shoulder and cut down to the bone.
Zhent himself grabbed a vial of liquid on his belt - the Shadowchasers guessed it was a potion of bull's strength or something similar - and tried to drink it, but he wasn't able to. He was set upon by a fierce assault from a ring of townsmen that pressed in against him from all sides. One struck the bottle with a brass-knobbed cane, causing it to slip from his grasp and shatter against the ground. Several punches struck Zhent, doing very little damage through his armor, but someone managed to strike a glancing blow to the side of his head with a length of wood. His helmet protected him from the concussion or worse that might have resulted, but it was clear that the ferocity of the assault had badly hurt him, and he fought for balance as angry hands clawed at him.
The four Shadowchasers had sincerely hoped Dorisan had not intended to cause a riot; maybe he had, and maybe he hadn't, but the important thing now was, it had…. The time for simple observation had passed.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The hooded man was still watching the scene, with emphasis now on Francis. Then, one of his hounds barked loudly again.
"Hmm?" Then he looked again towards the city hall building, and then turned his head upward to the building next to it. "I see…"
He put the notebook away and stood up. The same dog barked again.
"No, no, Juliette, we aren't leaving yet, but I do believe we should find a new vantage point, come."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
And with that note, we will bring this chapter to a close.
Seems our heroes just can't catch a break, can they, and as usual, it's going to get worse before it gets better.
The Demonskar Legacy continues soon.