TYRAM

Tyram caught up with Andry, Verro, and Chaddim as they hurried out to greet the three speeders. The vehicles carefully lowered themselves on extending landing legs before their hatches opened and people began pouring out. Most of them wore cloth armor, brown and with the telltale lumps of force field generators at strategic points beneath the fabric. They were armed with huge rifles and clear rectangular shields. They took up positions around the square as the last two people stepped out.

The man in front wore a brown and gray uniform with a wide brimmed hat. He was tall and broad shouldered, with curly chestnut hair waving down his back and a strong jaw. He had a pair of guns at his hips. Something about the uniform screamed officer, even to people who'd never served in a military.

The woman in the black suit and sunglasses was actually significantly more intimidating, though (probably by design) you noticed her second. She had chestnut brown skin and dark red hair cut close to her scalp. She was much shorter and thinner than the enforcer but everything about her said authority. It also said straight and proper and strict. There wasn't an unwanted crease anywhere on her entire body. Tyram thought she must dress herself with a ruler. She was the one who took the initiative, stepping in front of the enforcer officer and looking over the assembled crowd.

“I've read a preliminary report,” she said. “Can I please speak to whoever is in charge here.”

“I'm the mayor,” Chaddim said, stepping forwards. “And it was my wild shot that got us into this mess in the first place.”

“And it is one hell of a mess,” the woman sighed. “Where are the knights who were fighting with you?”

“That's us,” Verro said. “Or at least I'm one of them.”

“I thought so,” she said. “You don't look like a local. You cannot begin to understand the trouble you've caused.”

“Last I checked being a knight wasn't a crime,” Tyram said. “And neither was having a Regalia. And none of us could just sit by while people were being hurt.”

“Listen up squirt,” the hulking officer said. “You just stuck your hand in a meat grinder. So don't try and get all high and mighty when you don't know a god damned thing.”

“Then please,” Andry yelled, shouldering his way to the front of the crowd. “Please tell us, I'm curious. What the hell have you people been doing all this time!?”

“Andry,” Chaddim said. “It's alright, keep your calm.”

“Are you one of them too?” the woman asked.

“I've lived here my whole life,” Andry said. “I was one of the people who called you about the bandits. Two years ago.”

“Ah,” the woman said. “Yes. Well, while I do understand the charitable impulse on everyone's part--”

“Charitable impulse?” Verro said. “Not wanting to watch someone get murdered or raped counts as charity now?”

“...we would have preferred if you could have just...well, held out.”

“HELD OUT?” Andry exploded. “Held out for how long, exactly?”

“Eight more months,” the woman said. “At the most.”

“If you don't mind my asking,” Chaddim put in, “what would we have been waiting eight more months for?”

“I can't tell you that,” the woman said. “Let's just...let's just say that to anyone who knows the big picture, eight more months isn't that much to ask.”

“So you expected us,” Chaddim took a moment to breathe, face growing red, “to sit there, and wait, for another eight months, while our people were killed and our livelyhoods were taken? And what are we supposed to do now, go to the bandits and apologize?”

A crowd had gathered to listen to the discussion. That same crowd was starting to turn ugly. This was significantly worse than being ignored by their official protectors. This was rank betrayal, pure and simple.

“Obviously something like that wouldn't work,” the woman said. “What we're proposing now is relocation.”

“You want us to give up our homes?” Someone in the crowd shouted.

“The bandits would loot the place blind!” another voice chimed in.

“For eight months!” the woman said. “That's all. Just eight months. At the most.”

Tyram felt the same subtle wrongness as when he'd learned there were planetary authorities in the first place. At first he'd thought she was a petty bureaucrat with too much authority. But she didn't sound like a martinet defending her empire she sounded desperate. Desperate and terrified.

“Ma'am...” Chaddim said. “You know, it occurs to me I never got your names.”

“This is Enforce Chief Revinson,” the woman said, gesturing to the chestnut haired officer. “I am Mz. Faden.”

“No first name and no job title huh?” Verro said out the side of his mouth. “That's never a good sign.”

“Well Mz. Faden,” Chaddim said, “I don't quite understand where you get your authority. But a lot of good people died last night to put a stop to all this. And it sounds to me like you've come down just to side with the bandits.”

“I assure you that is not--” Mz. Faden began, but Chief Revinson held up a hand.

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“You couldn't win this anyway,” he said. “Those boys are tough. But now you've got them riled up, and they're gonna come here and kill you. So for your own good, we're taking you away.”

“Trego is covered with unclaimed land,” Mz. Faden said. “We can relocate you to a different continent. You'll never have to worry about these bandits ever again!”

“What about the prisoners I told you about when I called?” Chaddim asked. “They get set free?”

“No them we'll arrest,” Mz. Faden said. “Happily. But it's secondary to getting you all relocated before all this gets any worse.”

“How could it possibly get any worse?” Andry demanded. “You keep going on and on about how we screwed up. Alright, I thought fighting the bandits was a mistake at first. But the fight is here now. And you won't tell us what you're afraid will happen! All you do is keep saying eight months, eight months! What happens in eight months?”

“It would help us to trust you,” Chaddim said, fighting to keep his temper, “if you could give us a little more information. Because right now I don't know if I trust any transport you'd want to put us on.”

That got a round of angry affirmatives from the crowd. Mz. Fadden looked uncomfortable, but she powered ahead.

“I understand your concern,” she said, and it actually sounded like maybe she did. “But we really can't...”

“I'm done talking,” the enforcer chief cut her off. “I came here prepared to do this peacefully, but since you don't want to do that...”

“Chief Revinson you are not authorized too--”

“Don't give me that!” the enforcer chief spat. “We can worry about authorization later, we've got to put a cork in this. Gas cannisters!”

The enforcer troops he'd brought with him raised their weapons, but before anyone else could react there was a blur in the air and the sound of sliding metal. When it was over Fann stood in front of the crowd, sheathing his sword while the enforcer's weapons fell to neatly sliced peaces behind him.

“Who the hell is this!?” Revinson demanded.

“I was listening in,” Fann smiled.

“Arrest them!” Revinson shouted. “Arrest all of them!”

At first, the villagers had been so stunned by the order to fire they hadn't been able to move. As the shock faded the anger set in, and a crowd of villagers being forced from their homes by authority is the absolute classic method of forming an angry mob. The only thing that stopped it from rolling over the enforcers like a tide was Tyram, Andry, and Verro stepping forward to activate their regalia. Even a mob angry to the point of rabid violence has enough self preservation instinct to let the people in heavy armor on their side go first.

“I can't believe this,” Andry snarled. “You really are siding with the bandits!”

“We are not!” Mz. Fadden said desperately. “Chief Revinson, stand down!”

“Too late for that,” Chief Revinson snarled, grabbing a radio on his belt. “Not my fault they all don't know what's good for them. Move in! Move in! We have active Regalia!”

More air cars swooped over the village, discharging armed and armored enforcers onto the crowd. Which now did become an angry mob, but they were trained to deal with that. What the enforcers were not trained to deal with was knights.

“Verro!” he said. “Can you handle--”

“I'll make sure they drop as few enforcer's as possible!” Verro promised, taking aim at the air cars. “You take care of all the guys on the ground!”

“Got it!” Tyram said.

“Hey,” Fann said, slicing up another enforcer's gun with his katana. “Where'd the uptight chick in the suit go?”

“No time!” Andry said, and the knights poured into the fray.

J'VANN

It was the potted plant that drove everybody nuts.

Everyone knew the basic rule of an injured Regalia user. If they could be kept alive, their injuries, no matter how severe, would almost always heal good as new. Permanent disfigurement or disability were rare. The doctors had expected that. But they'd still expected J'vann's recovery to take months, and they definitely hadn't expected the potted plant.

J'vann had requested it as soon as they'd taken him to the infirmary. When it arrived he'd stuck two fingers into it and laid back on the bed, refusing to remove them even as the doctors hurried around to treat him. One enterprising soul had pulled it a few inches out of the dirt to discover tiny white roots growing from J'vann's fingers, and he hadn't had the stomach to push things any further. Now, aside from a limp in his left leg, he was almost completely healed. It was driving the doctors mad.

He'd been sitting listening to Fann tell a story when the world went mad.

“...except of course I couldn't afford it,” Fann explained. “And she's got a look on her face to match this dog over here--”

“Hey!” Sasha shouted from her own bed, where she was reading a book.

“Just a reference to your Wolf Regalia,” Fann said innocently. “Anyway, she was...huh. That's not good.”

“What's not?” J'vann asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Fann said, standing up and activating his Regalia. “You're recuperating. I'll take care of it.”

“Something that requires your Regalia sure soundslike something we...and he's gone,” Sasha sighed at the empty window. “Any chance you can see what's happening?”

“There is a crowd for some reason,” J'vann said.

“Ugh it's so frustrating being out of the action like this,” Sasha said. “I can't wait to be out of here.”

Aurina came through the door carrying a tray of food. None of them knew it yet, but the pieces were now all in place for catastrophe.

“Hey there!” she said. “Lunch everybody. Oh...should I wake him?”

She pointed to the third bed in the room, where an unconscious Rimni lay quietly snoring.

“I dunno,” Sasha said. “He talks a lot.”

“I bet he does,” Aurina smiled.

“Do you have any idea what is happening outside?” J'vann asked her.

“We called in the enforcers to help with the bandits,” Aurina explained.

“Wait,” Sasha said. “There are police on this planet? I just assumed this was a lawless zone.”

“Tyram said the same thing,” Aurina said. “I expect they're working it out.”

Her optimistic assumption was immediately undercut by the gas cannister that rolled into the room and burst, filling the air with green-white smoke. Rimni woke up long enough to cough and fall back asleep. Sasha yelled something but her words were slurred. Only J'vann was able to think clearly, the gas not doing much more than make him cough.

Knockout cannister, J'vann thought. Which is not working on me. Because the makeup of my system is alien? Perhaps. The others will be alright if they are not harmed while asleep, but what happened to Aurina?

It only took a minute for the smoke to clear. Ms. Fadden—not that J'vann knew who she was—now stood in the doorway leveling a small pistol at Aurina, who was still awake and glaring at the interloper.

“Are you with the bandits?” Aurina asked. She probably meant to go a step further and demand, but her voice was vague, the glare she gave the woman decidedly unfocused and glassy eyed.

“You stabbed yourself with a fork to stay awake,” Ms. Fadden said appreciatively with a gesture to the fork buried in Aurina's thigh. “Nice move, but you'll never keep it up for long. No I'm not with the bandits. I can't carry the big guy and the one in the other bed will be hard to pick up...you'll do.”

“I'll do for...” Aurina weaved on her feet. “For what?”

“The only plan I can thing of to salvage this mess,” Ms. Fadden told her, grabbing her by the arm. Aurina was too disoriented to do anything but stumble after her. “Come on! I'll take the kid too.” She hoisted the unconscious Rimni over her shoulder.

“Wait!” J'vann roared, hobbling towards her. “I cannot just let you...”

Mz. Fadden dropped her stance and caught the ankle of J'vann's injured leg, dropping the knight to the floor. Despite his injuries J'vann might still have won a prolonged battle, but that's why she didn't give him one. She disappeared through the doorway while the Verdant Knight was still scrabbling on the floor.

“No!” J'vann shouted, trying to scrabble to his feet, but she'd tweaked his still injured leg and by the time he stood they were already long gone.