Around the bend he had seen Garren disappear into, the corridor carried on for perhaps another thirty meters until it transitioned to a set of stairs heading upwards. Ahead of him was well lit, as torches lined the staircase in a deliberate fashion, as if marking some sort of boundary.
Padding past more heavy wooden doors, Samael arrived at the staircase and began to climb. Reaching the top, he found another heavy wooden door, this one intended to bar the way of anyone travelling up or down. A possible defence against prisoners such as him escaping, it was none the less left ajar and unlocked when he reached it.
Samael listened quietly at the top of the stairs and then peeked past the door to see what was on the other side. It was just another corridor, one which was much more presentable than the one he had left. The stone walls were smooth, unlike their rough and jagged cousins below. The floor, although unadorned and made of the same stone, was clean, as though regularly swept and even the ceiling was without spider webs or grime.
Cautious and incredibly high strung, Samael pushed the door open and stepped out. No one raised any alarm; Garren was not hiding behind the door, ready to stab him. He just stepped out and as quietly as he could, walked down the new corridor. There was a door on at the very end, along with a door half way down. As he walked by and came level to the first door, the sound of voices and laughter could be heard from beyond.
Quickening his step, Samael did not tarry and reached the far door in no time at all. This one was also left ajar. Hearing no danger and pushing against it to get past, there seemed to be something blocking it from the other side. It was not locked Samael knew, as the door was ajar, there just seemed to be something that was obstructing it.
With no other choice Samael pushed against the door as hard as he could, slightly frustrated as he felt unable to bring as much force to the task as he was accustomed. After a few moments the object on the other side began to give and Samael was able to open the door enough to squeeze through.
The object he had rudely shoved aside in his quest for escape, turned out to be another recently departed guard, who had a blood red smile carved into his neck. ‘Garren’s handiwork no doubt’ Samael thought, increasing his mental tally of dropped bodies that he should feel guilty about. ‘Was it that easy to kill someone here? Emotionally and literally?’ he wondered ‘Though maybe he is just a psycho with the element of surprise.’
It looked like Samael thankfully got no credit for this one, as there was no box nudging his mind to get his attention. Not stopping to rob this body, Samael stepped over it and found himself in a small alcove in the corner of a fairly large courtyard. A courtyard with several people walking through it! Samael ducked down, getting a little too close to the body for comfort. Luckily directly in front of him was a small walkway separating the alcove from the rest of the courtyard. A short decorative wall had seemingly kept anyone from noticing the corpse not 20 meters away.
Samael felt a queer sense of respect for Garren, disgusted that he had killed someone, but commending it had been done with no one noticing. The people walking in the courtyard did not tarry or notice Samael’s presence and were only interested in crossing from one entrance to another, deep in discussion.
Shuffling over to the low wall, Samael peeked over it, looking for somewhere he could quickly dash. The courtyard was roughly a square and looked about 60 meters wide give or take. Two openings could be seen to the left and right sides from Samael’s perspective. At its centre was an ornamental fountain that had no running water. Surrounding it were empty benches as the people briskly walked around them, appearing to have no time to waste in their bustle.
Hugging the wall behind him, the walkway stretched the whole length of the courtyard. An overhang jutted out from the building and was held up by columns spaced along the low wall he was currently crouching behind. Feeling like he might draw attention to himself by jumping over it, and unsure what would happen if he was seen, Samael instead crept quickly along the walkway. He was unsure where he was going, but thought one of those openings was surely his best bet for escape, and the adrenaline furiously pumping in his veins needed him to do something.
Ignoring the fear of someone yelling out suddenly, or the worry that any moment he would feel the grasp of a hand against his arm, Samael resolutely crept onwards. There were several more alcoves with doors in them which he passed, thankfully there were no armed guards standing outside. He didn’t want to risk trying to open one of the doors either, for fear of finding one. Instead Samael carried on creeping along the walkway, eventually reaching the wall on the far side.
The small group of people from before had left the courtyard, only to be replaced with another coming from the opposite direction. They were not guards on patrol, they had no armour or weapons and their clothes were a mishmash of styles rather than any kind of uniform. Samael waited until this new group was out of sight before stalking towards one of the openings.
He was only a couple of meters away when he heard more voices and a new group appeared right out from where he was planning on heading. Samael froze as a woman in the group turned their head and glanced at him as she walked by. They held each other’s eyes for a short moment, long in Samael’s panicked mind, before she turned back and carried on talking with her group, as if nothing noteworthy had happened. ‘She didn’t care about me’ Samael realised.
Noticing he was still holding his ridiculous attempt at a stealthy pose, Samael stood up normally as he adjusted his thinking, as he now knew he wouldn’t be attacked or arrested on sight. Before the new group had even reached the fountain, another even larger group emerged from the opening, chatting away as they passed Samael.
Seizing the moment, he stepped out from the walkway and joined the new group, mingling with it until he was near the centre. He got a couple of glances, but nobody protested or asked what he was doing.
“Don’t know what they’re thinking!” He heard one voice say in a conversation behind him.
“Yea if they raise them any more I’m guna have to start rationing!” another voice said in reply.
“How’s Sally taking it? Another one on the way I hear, getting hard to feed them all I’d wager!” The first voice continued, receiving a chuckle in response.
“We’ll get by, we’ll get by.” The second voice continued, before launching into a story about this ‘Sally’s’ antics. The conversation felt surreal to Samael, in that it was utterly normal. Something he might have heard on a bus, or whilst waiting in the que of a supermarket. It was nice.
His nerves relaxing and the fear of discovery lessening, Samael allowed himself to be guided by the group through and out of the courtyard, all the while accompanied by the banal chatter of the men and women surrounding him. Unfortunately, past the courtyard was no exit from whatever type of complex he was in. Instead Samael had moved onto a second bigger courtyard, one with a large group gathering in an impressive concourse outside a building with very grand architecture.
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The group he was walking with melded into this larger crowd. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, still casually chatting with one another, which helped keep Samael’s nerves down. After perhaps ten minutes of standing around, a large set of ornate doors opened in front of the group and a woman with rather ostentatious clothes stepped out, accompanied by numerous guards.
As soon as the crowd saw her they began to call out, not in anger or applause, more in a multitude of questions, with many a voice asking the woman to fix various issues which afflicted their lives. The woman raised her hands high and the sounds of the crowd died down.
“People of Stradun!” She called out, ‘Stradun, is that where I am?’
“Know that your prince hears your grievances, and sympathises with the burden of the common man....” ‘Not enough to be here himself it seems’
“Our lands are under siege!” The woman continued, trying to put emotion behind her words, though sounding rather half assed to Samael.
“Your contributions are what hold back the shadows from your homes, every bit of coin spent to fight the darkness and ensure the continued peace and prosperity of this land!” ‘Ohhhh they are complaining about taxes’ Samael deduced, looking from the woman’s fancy clothes, to jewellery incrusted fingers, then to the palatial building behind her. ‘I guess it’s the same everywhere’ Samael cynically thought.
The woman’s next altruistic statement was interrupted by the sound of yelling from behind. As one, the crowd turned and saw multiple guards advancing on them, led by a guard in a marvelously fancy cape. Nervous mumbling broke out, as the guards swept around the mob of ‘Commoners’, their leader then having a quick exchange with the woman ahead. Dismissing the man, whose fancy cloak spun majestically around him, the woman turned back to the crowd.
“There has been an escape attempt by several of Stradun’s dangerous criminal elements, leaving several of the guard injured!” ‘Injured? Looked quite dead to me’ Samael mentally added, his anxiety slowly returning as the authorities had discovered he was missing, in addition to their slaughtered men.
“This! This very situation is what we are trying to avoid! Your reasoned and fair contributions, along with the stout hearts and brave souls of the city guard are all that stands between order and chaos!” The woman continued, finding her passion as she milked the situation for every bit of political capitol she could. Her inspired speech continued for five minutes, to which she received a rousing cheer from the plebeians in front of her upon its conclusion.
Samael was slightly dazed at how quickly and eagerly the crowd had eaten up the excrement spouted by the authority figure in front of them. Her job seemingly done, the expensively dressed woman waved to the crowd for several moments before retreating inside the grand building behind her. The doors closed with a thud, sealing the peasants off from the luxury found within.
Not that said peasants cared, they happily started filing out back from where they had come from, their conversation less of complaint and more about the bright future that lay ahead of them. ‘These people are effing clueless’ Samael thought pityingly. Nevertheless he allowed himself to be swept along by them, out of the courtyard, through his original courtyard with the fountain, then onwards to a small square, at the end of which sat a large defensive wall with a gatehouse in the middle.
At the square’s entrance a series of guards waited, restricting the movement of people travelling through. ‘Oh crap!’ Samael thought, ‘they’re checking the crowd for me!’ Slowing his walk to a crawl, he looked left and right for any escape route, or way to bypass the makeshift checkpoint. At this point a strong hand pushed him from behind followed by a terse “Come on lad, your holding everyone up!”
Unable to stop his forward momentum, Samael shortly found himself in front of one of the armoured men. Swallowing his guilt, Samael forced his face into a smile and uttered a timid “Hello Sir, can I pass please?” The guard looked him up and down from behind his helmet, before waving him onwards and turning to the next person.
‘...That was it? He didn’t even check me!’ Samael thought as he walked on by, his nervous guilt transforming into disbelief that he had not been caught, nor checked for any sort of papers or identification. Luckily a high pitched voice provided some understanding.
“Daddy, what are they doing?” A small child asked the man holding his hand.
“They’re just making sure we’re safe son” The man patiently explained.
“How? They’re just looking at people” The young boy said.
“They are inspecting everyone to see their names.” The father replied in a tone seemingly used to answering many, many questions. “One of the nasty men that escaped doesn’t have one. They are making sure he doesn’t get away.” Accepting this as an answer the boy nodded his head before asking why the walls were so high. The man sighed and began explaining this as the two walked over to a growing crowd at the side of the gate.
‘Inspect? You can inspect people to see their name?’ Samael learned. Utilising his {Instinctual Interface} Skill, Samael looked at a passer-by and thought ‘Inspect!’
Lowat Mercebel
[Baker Lvl 7]
‘Oh my god!’ Samael’s eyebrows rose in surprise ‘That’s a thing?!’ Thinking back, he did seem to remember the construct telling him something about ‘objects and other denizens’. Looking at other people he began to inspect them as well.
Todd Smith
Apprentice
[Blacksmith Lvl 9]
Mathras
[Magister Lvl 14]
Conrad Longarm
Sergeant
[Guardsman Lvl 25]
It was just like wearing some sort of smart vision glasses, feeding him information about whoever he looked at. ‘Awesome!’ thought Samael. When he was arrested he distinctly had “NO NAME”, if that is what the guards were looking for, along with a face that no longer belonged to him, Samael realised he could make a completely clean escape, they would have no way of tracing him!
With a skip in his step and a smile on his face, Samael followed the crowd as they gathered again near the gate. They were not trying to get out however; they were staring at a platform off to the side. On it was a block of wood and quite a few guards. Held between them, unable to move due to all the hands grasping him was a dirty and bloodied figure. Garren.
At some hidden signal, perhaps prompted by the gathering in front of them reaching a certain size, the guards who held Garren thrust him onto his knees and put his head on top of the wooden block. The crowd fell silent, save for the muffled words unable to pass through the gag on Garren’s mouth. The man in the fancy cloak stepped out, the same one who spoke to the well-dressed woman from before.
Jason Alencarr
Guard Captain
[Guardsman Lvl 60]
Jason was not one to mince words.
“Behold the Prince’s justice!” He cried out, unsheathing his sword with a flourish. Turning towards Garren who still struggled against those who held him, Jason swept his sword down in a large arc and buried it in the wooden block. The patchy bald head of Samael’s brief accomplice fell neatly into a wicker basket in front of the wood.
The sound of the head hitting the bottom of the basket broke the spell of silence which held the crowd, and a roar of cheers erupted from it. ‘These guys are fucking psychos!’ Samael thought, as he looked around at everyone standing near him. Back on earth such a display would shock and disgust any reasonable person, but here these people lapped the execution up as an amusing spectacle. The sight of the boy from before cheering, as he sat on his father’s shoulders, was probably the most shocking sight of them all.
Amid excited chatter, everyone began to disperse and file through the gatehouse. In a daze Samael allowed himself to once again be carried along the crowd, as though he was a sheep in a flock. He stole one last look over his shoulder to see the body being carried off the platform.
“Goodbye Garren.” he said quietly, though without too much feeling, as he was swept beyond the wall.