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The Trial of Simon Alastair Blanc - Year of the Cog, 6th of March, 15:03

The Trial of Simon Alastair Blanc - Year of the Cog, 6th of March, 15:03

An attendant brought Judge Armitan a steaming cup of coffee. He sipped gratefully. The atmosphere in the courtroom had gradually changed. Instead of the tension and fear which had sodden the crowd originally, the spectators were now enraptured, listening with the eagerness of a child waiting for the dramatic conclusion of their bedtime adventure.

Simon’s restraints had been loosened and he too now supped a hot drink, relaxing into his seat a little further. Armitan couldn’t help but feel a touch of annoyance at the defendant’s blasé attitude. He settled down his cup and screwed up his face as he stifled a yawn. It was not customary to allow the defendant to continue on at his leisure in such a way, but Armitan judged that it would not be well received if he called for a re-hearing at this point. Besides, he was curious.

“I am somewhat puzzled, Mr. Blanc. You have told us a little of your descent into crime and savagery,” Armitan spoke with reproachful disgust, “but little of your rise within this dark world. How on earth did four sons of a factory worker find themselves among the most notorious characters in all of Tartarus?”

Simon nodded as he set his mug down, “It was no easy task. It was some months before we even began to appear on the radar, as it were. It’s no surprise that the police were slow to pick up on our activity; gaining public recognition was a harder task than we imagined. There were whispers of us long before people knew what was going on. Then, even after the stories became widespread, it was a while before the rumours pointed back to us.

“But as for how we grew? Well, our methods varied somewhat. Iustus and Libertas seemed to treat it like some environmentalist movement; they practically had a leaflet campaign, for crying out loud. They splashed contact numbers around pubs, and even had some local yobs spray paint slogans and propaganda around town. They called us The Vigilantes,” Polias smirked to himself and shook his head, reminiscing.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Needless to say, we didn’t get much attention that way. I tried my hand at a few things; name dropping, paying informants, spreading rumours, mostly just trying to give us our credit where it was due. I tried especially hard to link us to the casino job, that was nice and high profile. Unsurprisingly though, it was Ultor who finally captured the attention of the masses. He made the kind of impression which couldn’t be ignored.

“Even he started off small, picking off muggers, rapists, pimps, any filth he could find as he wandered the streets. I accompanied him sometimes. My favourite times were when mob goons and small-time gangs actually came up to us. Can you believe that good fortune? Ultor treated it like a blessing, like a damn sign from up high. By this time he certainly wasn’t someone to be trifled with. ‘Act the part and you will become the part’, he used to say, and he certainly went all in on acting the part. Ultor was playing the rebel messiah long before he had any followers. Before long, Ultor had syndicate enforcers crossing the road to avoid him. There are always idiots keen to try their luck. though.

“Any civilians who witnessed Ultor at work would sing his praises like he was some folk hero. Fact is though, when guns blaze and blood is spilt, most wise people are nowhere to be found.

“It was a combination of luck and opportunism which put us on the first rung to the big leagues. He always knew a chance would present itself, and that the challenge would be not to shy away from it when the time came. When fortune did smile on us, it did so in a big way. We just had to make sure we didn’t falter.”