Chapter 9

The Theandor and Vitafius family cautiously approached the southern gate, abandoning their plan of circling around the wall in order to avoid danger and simply heading straight in. Passing through the open gate was easy enough, as there was no one in sight to stop them. They walked through the streets, spotting the mass of bodies pervading the village square easily enough, and avoiding them just as easily.

Celeria guided them through the streets towards the barracks, where Dalarius and the other members of the guard would be holding a feast. Elrieden was supposed to attend, yet they had already figured out that such a thing wouldn’t be very practical at the moment for the mayor of the town. Besides, no one was really sure if he would be welcomed.

The little troupe calmly traversed the streets, only encountering the stray child. The absence of any other family joining their loved ones at the barracks surprised them. They quickened their pace, reasoning that the rest of the assembly must have already arrived.

They arrived at the barracks minutes later, the children panting while Celeria, Grey and Lyvia just looked on in confusion. The dimly lit barracks were abandoned. There was not a soul in sight, as even a check of the inside revealed nought but whetstones, empty rooms, and a kitchen scoured of any food. There were no marks indicating combat, nor were there any signs indicating a grand feast. There was simply nothing, an abandoned barracks cleared out of anything valuable in a manner any general would be proud to see.

‘No. No, no, no, no, no! Where is he?! They can’t already have left, right?!’, Celeria’s thoughts entered a rollercoaster as she once again descended into a mental landscape blighted by the absence of a loved one. The panic in her eyes were clear to all, as Lyvia quickly moved to support the grieving woman whose knees were already buckling under the mental pressure. Lyvia whispered sweet nothings into Celeria’s ear, attempting to calm the panicking woman down.

Grey moved towards the children, taking them outside. He couldn’t let Anna nor Ayda see her mother like that, as the consequences of their only parent crying her heart out would raise some unwanted questions and panic.

‘Keep it together Celeria. You have two wonderful little girls you’re now going to have to raise on your own, so you better get your damned business together.’, Grey’s mental admonishment was mirrored by his wide smile, as the attempts at calming down the children were partially successful. Anna and Ayda seemed less confused, yet they retained a quizzical expression. Daelyn seemed cautious, as he kept throwing glances around, eyeing for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

‘Can’t blame him. An angry mob that large could be a problem to any Dynn Doriàn, let alone a dinol with 5 summers on his belt.’, Grey smiled at the little boy clinging to his leg, putting this one free hand on the little boy’s head. It did little more than ruffle his hair, yet Daelyn looked slightly calmer. The occasional glance was still thrown out to assure safety, and every time the angry mob collectively shouted was accompanied by a wince from the little man, yet the assurance of his father standing next to him helped a little.

Grey herded the three little children together with little effort, keeping check on their surroundings in the hope of finding someone who could tell them where the hell they were supposed to go. Grey waited for an answer, yet there was nothing but empty streets and the three children he had to entertain.

Grey continued to entertain the little troupe he had at his disposal while he waited for Lyvia and Celeria to join them, hopefully in a less emotionally unstable state. The minutes passed by, yet the barracks remained silent. The lifeless streets returned to their former emptiness, the silence only occasionally broken by either a muffled shout from the rioting mob, or one of his little troupe speaking up.

Grey leaned against the barracks’ wall and sat down, content to watch Daelyn, Anna and Ayda playing with each other. The little trio quickly decided on a game of tag, chasing each other around until Daelyn inevitably got tagged, and had to be the tagger. The girls let the little boy get tag them after a little chasing, because the game wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

On their fifth round of tag, Celeria and Lyvia exited the barracks with a wide smile spanning across Celeria’s face. The large grin was slightly out of tone, suggesting an appearance of satisfaction more than happiness, yet no-one commented, as it would only lead to more grief and more confusion.

“What’s the plan? Because I don’t think staying here will do us any good.”, Grey’s candid voice drew Celeria’s and Lyvia’s attention away from the playing children.

“Well, I think it would be wise if Lyvia and I scouted out the crowd. Besides that, the only place the guard regiment could fathomably be would be the village hall. We’re going to have to go there, whether we like it or not.”, Lyvia’s reply was just as casual and candid as Grey’s, making him reminisce about their adventurer’s days. The days where practicality was put up front, as anything more complicated than a few words should have been discussed beforehand.

Grey nodded, “I’ll be here with the kids. I’ll leave for home if the situation turns sour. Expect me at the southern gate if any trouble shows up, alright?”

Celeria and Lyvia nodded. They walked over to the little trio staring quizzically at them. The three little children each received a peck on their cheek.

“We’re going to see what’s going on in the village square, okay? Stay with Grey, he will protect you.”, Celeria quietly whispered to both Anna and Ayda while pulling them into an embrace.

“I’ll be back in a bit, so just stay with papa, okay?”, Daelyn curtly nodded at Lyvia’s soft order, “Good boy.”. She ruffled his hairs, placing another peck on his cheek.

The two women left after saying their goodbyes. The two turned towards the village square, setting off with a quick pace with the gazes of their children watching their backs until they abruptly turned around a corner, disappearing into the streets of Elrieden.

Lyvia and Celeria sped their pace up as they left the sight of their offspring, running through the streets of Elrieden towards the sound of a rioting mob. The noise of violence became clearer as they neared the village square. The streets opened up to the usually bustling village square, which was now filled with a crowd large enough to fill the square itself and a few of the adjacent streets.

The crowd was chanting wildly, creating a deafening orchestra of pure chaos. However, the lack of coordination meant that it was little more than a collective creation of angry noise, never containing any kind of message during the few minutes Celeria and Lyvia listened in. The never ending verbal violence directed at the village manor was simply deaf to itself, as the disgruntlement of a thousand souls could not be combined in one simple message, until a voice rose up out of the crowd.

The voice was accompanied by a burly Dynn Doriàn mounting a wooden barrel and shouting at the top of his lungs. The vocal violence still ringing through the village square made the man’s voice imperceptible to Lyvia and Celeria, yet it momentarily silenced the cries of those around him. Those adjacent to the burly shouter took on his message, spreading it out in all directions as the crowd united under one banner.

“Bring out Elrieden!”, the man raised his arms, showing himself to be the crucible hardened blacksmith, “Bring out the coward who will doom this village! Bring him out!”

The crowd quieted down, eliciting a sigh of relieve from those high up on the balcony, before they took the blacksmith’s chanting to heart. They raised their fists at the manor.

“Bring him out!”, they raised their fists on the rhythm of the chant, creating a moving mass of bodies that opposed the manor which looked small by comparison. The civil servants bleached, flinching at the crowd’s chanting.

They faltered, yet they didn’t fall. They tried to calm the crowd through negotiation, they tried it through thaumaturgy, they tried through distraction, yet there was nothing they could do. They didn’t have the force of the guard regiment to enact discipline, so they could only rely on themselves for success and their own protection.

The situation seemed dire for the mayor, yet it only deteriorated when one of the clerks raised their voices through the thaumaturgy magic.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t you see that we can’t do anything?!”

He was met with a momentary silence, the crowd quieting down at his admonishment of them. The civil servants calmed slightly, thinking that the silence in the crowd denoted progress.

The first stone contradicted that. It hit the clerk right next to the aggressor in the head. The damage was luckily minimal, yet it was the snowball that started a grey avalanche of rocks and frustration. The knowledge that the bureaucrats sitting on their high pedestal could do nothing to help them transformed them from a possible solution to a target for the anger and frustration of the crowd.

They continued their barrage for a dozen minutes, breaking almost all the windows in the manor and chipping away at the walls ever so slightly. Small pieces of bark started down tumble down along the outside of the manor, any window frame which only showed the slightest suspicion of life was pelted with rocks. The clerks had already retreated inside for their own safety, yet the crowd was far from done.

The first people had already started knocking on the door, and it seemed like the rocks around the manor were starting to run out.

The crowd continued their chant, the pummelling of the ornate front door continuing on the rhythm. The doors were clearly barricaded, as the simple locking mechanism wouldn’t be able to hold the rioters at bay like this.

The door was creaking, about to break down, when a sound suddenly overtook the mob’s chanting. The sound of metal on metal, the sound of a battalion banging their weapons on their shields, accompanied by a deep horn.

The sound gradually came closer, until the streets adjacent to the manor were filled with fully clad soldiers. Their uniforms were meagre to say the least, dark grey leather from a stone salamander common to these woods with a simple iron helmet on top. These soldiers would have impressed few individuals in the crowd, yet their collective mentality screamed fear as the unity of the battalion combatted their anarchy.

They advanced slowly, driving the rioters back from the square inch by inch. They came like the tide, abating when necessary yet always continuing onwards.

The crowd slowly started to descend into panic, as the small groups around the manor had already retreated back into the crowd, while the outliers in the crowd were either running away or retreating back into the crowd, compacting the mass of bodies even more. The crowd writhed, scampering away from the incoming threat like a pack of scared dogs, and they were chastised as such.

Lyvia pulled on Celeria’s arm, pulling her away from the panicking crowd which was about to break into a stampede.

“We need to go, come on!”, Lyvia saw Celeria’s face flush crimson with rage, “You expect to let them go when they took my husband from me?! Let the dogs come!”. Celeria stormed off in a rage, leaving Lyvia alone as she disappeared into the crowd. Lyvia took one last look at the village manor, before she turned around and set off towards the barracks, in the hope that she would find her family there.

The clerks had reappeared on the balcony, hurling insults at the protesters.

“Run you hairless dogs! That will teach you to mess with the Elders!”, the clerks basked in glory as the crowd was driven away by their newly gained ally, “Let’s see you idiots come back after this! Ha!”. Their zeal and faith in the system overpowered their common sense, causing them to smear and belittle the very people they were supposed to serve. Revenge was a dish best served cold, yet they were dining on it like it was gourmet.

The crowd backed up, allowing the battalion to close up the manor and secure it. They blocked over half of the square, not allowing anyone past. They had defused the situation within minutes, and one man stood with his a maniacally grin watching over it all, orchestrating it from behind the lines.

Eldrin Tyrrith was having a field day.

‘Thank you Eleanor, for blessing me with such an opportunity. The idiotic bureaucrats of this state may be good for something after all!’, Eldrin was having the time of his life. The protest had given him the opportunity to replace the guard regiment. The boon, if only temporary, would be huge, especially if he could pull a few of the Elders from their high horse.

‘Let’s see what they’re going to do now. Elrieden can’t rely on anyone else for protection now, he ain’t rich enough for mercenaries, and his shamans are about as useful as those idiotic clerks. Good cannon fodder, but they won’t be able to do regular patrols in a century.’

Meanwhile, Elrieden looked up from high up. He was accompanied by Gil Yrricht, the eldest of the guard and the ever vigilant watcher of the manor. They both looked on with dread, as the crowd was pushed back inch by inch by the unofficial police.

“What the hell is he thinking? Doing whatever he likes with his troupe of clowns?!”, he turned to Gil, “He can’t do this, right?! We have to assemble the Elders!”.

Gil simply looked back at Ellith with a soft expression, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You do realise that that won’t do anything? The man has the town in his hand with that battalion of his, we need someone to clear out the infestations, and I sure as hell don’t know anyone else who can do it.”, he sighed, “Calling an assembly isn’t going to help either. He will be there, and he will have virtually all the power. He can just say ‘Well, how about I leave you to the wolves then?’ and you know he’s gonna use whenever he can. The man is enjoying his position of power, and there’s nothing we can do.”

Elrieden furrowed his brows in frustration, he balled his fists and stood there like a child, not knowing how to express his anger properly. His mind raced for a solution, hanging onto anything that might deny Eldrin even the slightest bit of power.

It was then that his expression suddenly cleared, his mouth was gaping, and his eyes were open to a whole new set of possibilities.

He grinned, “He won’t be enjoying it for long. I’ll make damned sure of that.”

Gil looked quizzically at Ellith as he stormed off, heading down the winding stairs. Gil could only look on as he disappeared from sight, only to pop up several minutes later at the back end of the manor, striding off towards the edge of the town.

‘Thank Eleanor that everyone either left, or headed to the tavern at the south side. They would have torn him to bits if they knew that he was out and about without any guards’, he looked down again, ‘Never mind, his heir is guarding him. Sometimes I can’t understand how lopsided this family actually is.’, Yrricht pinched the bridge of his nose as he had just witnessed Nero speeding after his father.

‘Let’s just hope that he doesn’t do anything stupid. Well, there is only one thing that could possibly escalate the situation further.’, the old man contemplated Ellith’s purpose in leaving the manor so suddenly, ‘He wouldn’t do that, right? Nah, he isn’t that stupid.’, an uneasy smile crept up.

The old man dismissed the thought and continued to monitor the situation in front of the manor. Eldrin and his band had left, leaving only after a slight scuffle with the protestors which had partially stepped down from their confused state under the leadership of a lone woman standing against the wall of shields and clubs. The crowd slowly inched away through the streets, leaving the town through the western and southern gate, with a few stragglers circling around and heading home through either the eastern or northern gate.

Dusk started to settle, and Gil enjoyed one of the perks that the job provided.

‘Lucky me, seeing sunsets every day.’

The crowd had dispersed, yet the tension remained. He could see the crowd gathered around the tavern just outside the wall, the drunks that stumbled off, the tables that were filled with lively conversation and fierce shouting. He couldn’t know what they were talking about, but he could guess. Their conversations were easy to decipher, as the crowd started to roar once more.

The old Dynn was able to make out some of their grievances through his heightened perception after serving several decades as the village’s lookout.

“Greedy pigs!”, “Egoistic pricks”, and other insults followed. The conversation topic was clear.

They despised the council of seven.