Arc 8-81
By the time we arrive, the acolytes led by the knights are detaining the speaker and his allies, magic binding their wrists and ankles. Admirably, the speaker is continuing to rant at the audience that is being kept back.
"First, they take our lives and our homes. Then they take our freedom. Now they even seek to take our voices! When will they be satisfied? When will you say enough is enough?"
"Quiet rebel," the knight standing over him says dismissively. When the speaker raises his head to speak, a gauntleted fist knocks him down, the movement too fast for the crowd to see, judging by how the crowd jumps and gasps. I suppose the rumors that the royal family hoards the best melders in the kingdom to empower their personal knights has some basis. "Bring the…"
The knight's words trail off as my carriage rolls to a stop, making it clear that we won't be passing by. Mr. Quick-To-Violence turns to face us as I descend. Kierra follows, quickly throwing her arms around me, while Alana follows at a more sedate pace. A grim frown turns her pretty face stern, one hand lightly resting on the pommel of her sword as she stands aggressively.
Having her fight a royal knight would be quite the test. A proper way to measure her progress. Can she win? Physically, I don't doubt it, but I'm not sure if she can bridge the gap in magic or experience. And I'd rather not find out today. Not just because I don't want to risk her but also because this isn't a problem that'll be helped with violence.
"Lady Tome-Delarre." I meet the knight's pale eyes. Not a hint of fear to be found in them. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised. "How can we be of service?"
"Good morning, sir…?"
"Sir Frost, your ladyship."
"Then Sir Frost, you can be of service by releasing those men you've detained."
His eyes narrow, something most people wouldn't be able to see properly because of his helm. Tsk, tsk. Letting your mask slip because you think I won't be able to tell? Sloppy. Or maybe he doesn't care if I know he's annoyed, which would be sloppier.
"These men are rebels. We will be taking them into custody."
"We're not…cough…rebels."
We turn to the speaker as he struggles to raise his head. Two of his allies press in closer, doing what they can to support him. They remind me of animals huddling together for safety, a sight that is as amusing as it is sad. The blow opened a cut on the speaker's head. The blood flowing down his face forces him to keep one eye closed, but that only seems to double the glaring power of the other. They're a brown so dark, they're almost black, nearly as dark as his short hair.
"Those crazy bastards are our enemies too. Sin doesn't care about the people. He doesn't want things to change. All he wants is to shuffle the cards and put himself on the top of the deck. He doesn't—"
He coughs, leaning heavily on his allies. I recoil as he spits out a wad of brown spit. Ugh. He was literally made to eat dirt. "He doesn't care who gets hurt to do it."
"So, you've broken from your group to pursue your own treasonous ideas. New rebels or old ones, it doesn't lessen your crimes."
"Treasonous? How is telling people to protect themselves treasonous? I'm telling them to speak up, not march on the capital!"
"I will not argue with criminals."
"Then argue with me." Once more, the attention turns to me. "He's correct. Speaking his opinions is not a crime."
"Inciting a rebellion is," Sir Frost insists.
"I agree his words are, ah, rough. Certainly irreverent to the people he should be showing gratitude." I punctuate my words with my own glare. The speaker doesn't even flinch. He's got spirit at least. "But look at him. He isn't trying to arm people. He's not trying to incite a riot."
The knight makes a sound between a snort and a groan, indecipherable but full of derision. "He is organizing a group with intentions to go against the authority of the crown. If that is not treasonous—"
"Stop being ridiculous. Nobles organize to weasel their way out of the crown's authority all the time. Sneaky merchants cook their books against the crown's authority. Are you trying to tell me that anyone who doesn't smile and praise the Harvest family at every bell is a rebel?"
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"They have information on the rebels."
"Maybe. In that case, you should have a polite conversation, perhaps a stern interrogation. What you shouldn't be doing is detaining them in the street and knocking their heads into the ground. It's unbecoming of a knight to take out his frustration at his failure on the people he's supposed to be protecting."
He stiffens, his fingers twitching. Fighting making a fist, I'd guess. Are you thinking about knocking me down next? I wish he'd try.
"More importantly, who are you to argue with me? Unless you've got a royal writ saying you're acting with the king's authority to do whatever in the Abyss you want, you don't have the authority to question the governing noble."
We stare each other down for several tense moments. Then he inclines his head. "Excuse my poor conduct, your ladyship. You are absolutely correct."
Oh, good. I was hoping the information had spread at least among the group from the crown.
"However, I would strongly suggest that you allow us to detain these…people and question them properly."
"As I said, we can't have people being smacked around for being upset at what is unarguably a bad situation. If you are concerned about their connection to the rebels, then as I said, feel free to question them. Question, not beat the information out of them. After you find them so chairs and see to that one's unnecessary injury." I point to the speaker. Not a shred of gratitude in his eyes.
"As you command." The knight waves over a few of the acolytes and sends them running back to the camp. He doesn't look happy, but he's following orders. A bit quick with his fists but a professional. I doubt I just made a new friend, but it looks like I can work with them.
"You heard the lady. Remove their restraints. Do not attempt to leave or I will have reason to detain you."
The speaker's allies help him to his feet, the man immediately wiping his bloody face with his shirt. He stops as I walk over, watching me with suspicion.
"Don't think you're getting off for free," I tell the man. "You may not be a criminal but you're not doing yourself or these people any favors."
He sneers. "Do you think you can intimidate me?"
"Yes. Luckily for you, I'm not in the mood to kill you." He remains stalwart but his allies shuffle their feet or try to hide their trembling frowns. "In case you missed the whole exchange with the man who swatted you like an annoying fly, I own the city and surrounding territory for a hundred leagues. That means your fates are in my hands. We both know that was always the case, but the king just made it legal."
He grits his teeth. "I don't care what a piece of paper says. This is our ho—ack!"
His words are cut off by my hand as I grab his throat. His allies tense, but their eyes move between me and Sir Frost, who is watching the show. They make the smart decision to do nothing, their hands balled at their sides and their gazes downcast.
"If you don't care about a piece of paper or a man on a throne you've never seen, then care about this." I squeeze with the faintest hint of pressure. He chokes, face paling as he struggles to breathe. "Do you care about the hand that could crush you? That could crush these people you're trying to lead to a better future? Do you care whether you die today?"
He slowly nods, as much as he's able. I let him go, watching impassively as he coughs and wheezes. "All the pride in the world isn't going to stop knights and master casters."
He keeps his head bowed as he rubs his throat. Likely doesn't want me to see his glare. "We won't be your pets."
"You wish you were so lucky. I don't need pets. But you will follow my will."
"Or you'll kill us?"
"I will if you cause problems. But if you refuse to live peacefully in my city, guess what? You can go. And I'll slam the door behind you." I grab him by the chin, forcing him to look up and meet my eyes. "I heard you little speech. You're working on quite a few misunderstandings. Your grand plan to make the powers that be listen is to withhold labor and call them bad names? You're threatening to leave? Great. Get out and don't come back."
His eyes widen. "You need—"
"I don't need a damn thing from you. Can you say the same?"
"So, we're supposed to just accept being treated like trash?! Don't mess with me!"
"Who told you to?" He stumbles as I release him, but his friends are quick to catch him. "I'm telling you to be realistic about what you can do. I'm sure you're angry with me, with everyone. And? Can you eat anger? Can anger shelter you from the rain? If not, put it aside and think. You have demands? You tell me why I should give a damn about them. Give me something I actually need. Make me a deal so great I can't refuse. Otherwise, you better shut up, make yourself useful, starting with answering some questions, and ask really nicely. And if you can't stand it, goodbye. Go build your own city."
"You're a monster," he hisses through grit teeth, but the harsh tone doesn't fool me. There's no fight in his eyes.
"Maybe. But I'm a strong one. That means you're going to have to live with me. Up to you if you want to make it harder for yourselves. I can be reasonable. These demands of yours. So long as you understand they are entirely at my whim, I don't mind taking a look at them. Write them down. Uh, you do have someone in your group that can write?"
He looks like he wants to snap at me, but he swallows the anger. "Yes, we're educated."
"Great. Have someone write these demands up and have them delivered to the Teppin estate. If they aren't ridiculous or don't interfere with my own plans for the city, I'll consider them."
His expression says he doesn't believe that. But what can he do? He can't force the issue. This is the only action that isn't going to get him and his people killed or exiled.
"Work quickly. I won't wait for you."
I spare him having to force another civil response past his lips, turning before he can speak. I spare the royal knight a final look before boarding the carriage. Alana is the last to climb in, her hand staying on the pommel of her blade up until she closes the door behind her. A quick knock on the wall and we're off.
I think that went well. Mm, not bad for my first day.