“I don’t particularly care what you thought, our orders are that no one gets in without at least half of the group being local forces.” Farad’s tone had become increasingly strained as the conversation with the small mob in front of him went on and Jenny figured he was about to reach his breaking point. “That means only five of you can go in at a time. F. I. V. E. Five! You can even count it on one hand!”
Hands tightened on weapons as the foreigners began shouting their defiance, thankfully no one was stupid enough to draw.
“Don’t treat us like idiots!”
“… the cost of teleporting here…”
“…will hear of this!”
The last few mornings had been awful as people from other cities began to teleport in, a trickle swiftly becoming a flood, but this was a new low, though at least the morning hadn’t featured a near-dead beastfolk crawling out of the dungeon. The guards from that evening were still under investigation which was doing nothing for morale, nor, she thought while stifling a yawn, work hours. Jenny was about to intervene but Balrem got there first, his powerful voice echoing over the crowd as he held his hands up, though with arms rippling with muscle it was as much a threat of violence as symbol of peace.
“Alright, alright everybody just calm down a minute. You’re all fighters of one shape or another, so I’m sure you can appreciate we have our orders. If you think there is some mistake you can plead your case back in Timberhollow. That’s where the bigwigs who make those decisions are. In the meantime…”
“Why are we listening to some monster?”
“They let an orc in the dungeon but not us?”
“Leave. Now.”
Jenny’s blood was pounding in her head and her tone was ice, she didn’t even remember drawing her axe as she came up beside her two companions but she heard the audible gulp as the crowd realised this might be about to get bloody even through the shinks and rustles of every other guard in the area following her lead. The crowd parted before her and her outstretched weapon as she slowly paced towards the two offenders. She saw their faces tighten about to object and decided to cut them off.
“I have seniority here, and I don’t care what you’re used to but you’re on Timberhollow’s turf right now and we have no place for those who spout such moronic, spite filled notions. You won’t be entering the dungeon today or ever. I suggest you return home.”
The human woman while seething seemed to recognise a lost cause when she saw one, the rest of the crowd didn’t want this to turn into a riot and were looking distinctly nervous as the Timberhollow forces were ready to support Jenny, bows nocked, blades levelled, spellcasters’ hair swirling with power. Unfortunately, the short half-elf reached for his warhammer. How the hell he thought he’d ever get the chance to swing it Jenny didn’t know but a swift [Bash] from her shield knocked him flat on his back with most of the the crowd rapidly making space. She moved swiftly to kick his weapon out of reach before things devolved further.
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“Attempting to draw a weapon against a guard is a serious offence here, we’ll be detaining you. Do not resist or…”
She didn’t even have the chance to finish the warning before there was movement from her side swiftly followed by a scream of pain. A quick glance showed a man writhing on the ground holding his leg, knife dropped at his side and Farad’s spear tip hovering nearby dripping blood. Angry and tense as she was, she knew she needed to defuse this now, thankfully streams of water poured through the crowd to bind the two on the ground. With a thankful nod to Lydia, Jenny projected her voice as best she could,
“We’re going to take these two to the healer and then they are going to jail. We’re burning daylight so if you want to enter the dungeon queue up in parties of five or less. No exceptions. If you have a problem take it up in Timberhollow, we’re done taking shit for the day.”
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Sarge reported to the Captain’s office, the late morning light streaming through the window making him wince. Even with years of experience, the morning after a night shift was never pleasant. One side of the captain’s hair was looking ruffled, that was never a good sign, he ran his hand through it when he was frustrated. The room had a faint floral smell over the usual notes of steel, oil and parchment, a sure sign a noble or one of their sycophants had been here, Sarge braced himself for what was to come.
“Sargeant,” he looked up from a report and nodded before leaning back into his chair, “Come in and close the door. You’ve missed an eventful morning. We have two of Whitecliff’s guards detained and Jenny permanently blackballed one of them and one of their ensigns from the dungeon.”
Sarge struggled to find words, Jenny was one of the most reliable guards he’d trained and usually erred towards leniency when given discretion. He couldn’t imagine what had happened for her to act in such a way.
“Sir, I’m sure she must have had good reason…”
“From the reports I’ve read things were close to riot outside the dungeon, nobility relying on us to sort out their messes as usual. Balrem was getting things back under control when a pair decided to decry him as a monster.”
Sarge felt his muscles tighten, while racism was certainly present in Timberhollow he’d thought the more virulent claims of orcs and half-orcs as monsters had been stamped out over the years. Unbidden he recalled the scent of smoke and the beaten form of the orcish baker who always had a treat for him as a child, at least until his shop was burnt out. Memories like that, the attacks in the streets on people just trying to live their lives, those were why he’d wanted to grow up strong and protect people. Why he joined the guard. He hated the idea of one of his guardsmen being subjected to that. Clearly his feelings showed as the captain continued with a smirk,
“It would seem Jenny felt similarly to you, those were the two she blackballed. There was a bit of a scuffle afterwards but no one was seriously injured and she managed to mostly keep a lid on things. Needless to say, I’ve had a few people in to complain about the politics of it all…”
“I’ll happily take full responsibility for my subordinate sir. However politically inconvenient it is, we can’t let them get away with…”
The captain waved at him to stop, mirth draining from his eyes, “I told them if I’d been there, there’d be a pile of corpses and to count themselves lucky for her restraint. I’ve had just about enough of visitors running roughshod through the place and being told to put up with it. The beastkin weaselling their way into the dungeon was one thing, but a bunch of unruly young bravos who think they can draw steel on the guard without consequences is quite another. It’s time to make an example.”
Sarge felt a chill as he looked at his superior. For all he respected the man, Sarge couldn’t help but think his rare death affinity suited him. He was usually restrained but when he decided to act, he didn’t hesitate.
“Yes sir!”
The captain’s cold demeanour vanished like morning mist before the sun,
“What do you think about giving Jenny some more responsibility?”