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Lord Storm Nattas
The long knives & two nights of summer
Part III
-Rejoice, for we are delivered!-
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But for some street lights near the center of the walled inner city, the rest of Alden was dark and mostly sleeping. The former changed an hour after midnight, when huge flames erupted near the moat’s East drawbridge. The night painted a bright orange, almost red.
Storm, with Secundus and his men flanking him, Sudi following coiled alike a viper in heat, walked briskly towards the central square, following a dark side alley next to the Guardtower. Captain Canus Betto was there raising a ruckus, the shift guards taking it with blank faces.
“Right,” Nattas said, whipping around to stop Sudi. “She’s doing her thing, Betto will do his,” He glanced at the distant flames lighting up half the waking up city. “The fuck did you do?”
“It’s the Merchant Guild’s big textile warehouse,” Sudi explained, wiping his sweaty forehead. Storm couldn’t tell, whether he was healing up, or not. One thing was certain, whatever looks the half-breed had once, were long gone now. “Don’t see how it’s funny,” his man continued seeing his smirk, “place is packed, lots of wool, ready to be send up North for the winter.”
“What happened to the workers guarding it?” Storm asked and Sudi grimaced. The body-count was increasing, Storm thought. “How soon they’ll react?”
“It will take them sometime, Betto will make sure everyone is tasked to prevent the fire from spreading.”
“Will it?” Storm queried. Burning down the city of Alden wasn’t in his plans and would’ve been nigh impossible to explain away afterwards.
“Eh,” Sudi replied, not exactly filling him with confidence. “We’ll be fine, chief.”
Abrakas mouldy cock rots in a jar.
Betto departed with the rest of the guards, one of Order’s patrols taking up the spot they were guarding on the square.
“Where’s the rest of them?” Sudi queried, seeing them arguing, their attention to the foreboding Dome of the Five.
Storm smacked his lips and kept his eyes on the two buildings the Order had taken over, noticed commotion there, men with torches running to the Dome and from, looking rather panicked, with one of them even collapsing in the middle of the street.
“The monks had set up a soup kitchen,” he explained. “A fine activity, feeding the poor and their people en masse, especially since so many of them are staying in one place.”
“Fuck,” Sudi said, crooking his mouth, the memory painful. “How long?”
Storm stared about them, mainly the alleys leading to the central square. Multiple dark openings, but to the side facing the Spring Gardens. He glanced to the South and the palace, the Queen’s quarters lit up on the second floor, then East at the ancient keep, now mostly empty and locked up, but for the guard posted at the tower’s entrance.
Betto couldn’t just take everyone with him.
Storm grunted, then breathed once deeply and touched Sudi’s shoulder.
“Make it quick,” he ordered him and at that moment the first of ‘Crazy’ Dalbert’s people started coming out of the side streets.
> There’s no handbook with instructions on how to stage an insurgence without making too much noise, or cause excessive harm. No such thing, as a ‘discreet cleanout’, which was the term Lord Nattas had used finalizing their plan. Lack of time and the necessity to leave no witnesses, made it important to resort to brutal violence. Measures were taken, instructions were given to Dalbert’s cutthroats to spare low value targets, capture the heads, but even so and rather quickly, things got out of hand.
One of Dalbert’s thugs raised an arm in greeting, the closest of the monks tending to their colleague, turning his head to see who it was. Storm glanced towards Sudi approaching the guard at the entrance of the ancient keep, Secundus unsheathing his sword on his left shoulder, a tensed frown on his weathered face. His hand chose that particular moment to bother him, so he clasped it with his right, felt the bandages moist underneath his palm and by the time Nattas got his eyes back on the events unfolding more than a hundred meters from him, all hells had broken loose.
The monk got a foot of blade punched in his gut, the cutlass custom-made and wickedly sharp, gasped through a hand blocking his mouth, the sound muffled and matching that of the guard’s Sudi murdered with flawless professionalism, right across the square.
“Darn,” Secundus commented, eyes gawking when Dalbert’s men rushed the Order’s soldiers, screaming like wraiths coming out of alleys and side streets, dark corners and even out of the Spring Gardens woods.
The second warrior-monk flinched and got his sword out, made to attack the thug with the cutlass, still working the blade inside his colleague’s guts, manic smile on his lips, but got an axe right at the lower jaw. Nasty weapon spinning thrice through the air, buzzing alike windmill’s blades and hurled from ten meters away. The toe splitting the jawbone, crushing teeth and severing his tongue, before cracking the lower part of his skull and emptying his brains into his gullet and out the nasty wound.
Uh oh.
The man died from the shock on his feet, before he toppled backwards, the attackers’ insane cries alerting those inside the house and the Dome that something was afoot.
Other than a heavy bout of mass-poisoning.
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“Move!” Storm ordered his bodyguards and started walking towards the Dome, eyes on the mayhem unfolding. Armed monks got out of the houses, quite a number of them and tried to stop Dalbert’s men… any way they could.
A thug killed a young disciple with a long knife, got the hand cleaved off at the elbow by an older one, blood spurting out and dousing the follower of Uher in the face blinding him. The thug cried out in mind-numbing pain, spraying blood everywhere, got a shorter blade out and stab with it his blinded opponent, groan turning into a growl. The monk tried to parry with his long bladed cleaver wild, got knifed in the ribs, the mail saving him and knowing the thug was going to aim higher next time swung blind, his other hand desperately wiping his face clean. The nasty-chopper hissed got the thug right at the left wrist and cleaved right through that too.
“Head for the Dome!” Nattas barked, with a flinch at the brutal mutilation. One of the Order’s patrols returned to the square at that point, half of them injured, having cut their way through Dalbert’s thugs.
Fuck!
“Get at ‘em lads!” Secundus beat him to it, as Storm swung around to gauge this new danger.
The leading monk yelled at his guards to help his colleagues and Secundus lopped his head off stopping him, while sprinting like a filly. It was a nasty and short affair, his bodyguards overwhelming the surprised members of the Golden Spears and cutting them down with enthusiasm fueled by the general mood of Alden’s central square. Because what had started as a shock attack, had turned into a furious bloody brawl in the span of minutes.
“Chief!” Sudi yelled, blood on his face and pushed him aside, a sword missing his eye for a hair, the blade cutting his armor at the shoulder as it retreated. “That’s Lord Nattas! Stay that blade!” Sudi blasted the thug that had sneak-attacked him, smacking him once on the ribs, with his cane. The cutthroat blinked, wild beard and ogling eyes feverish, left side of his face melted away from an older injury and bowed once deeply.
“Mistaken ye for a ruffian, milord,” the thug said, with a smirk and run away towards the stairs of the Dome. Storm licked his lips still in shock and saw more than heard Secundus returning with the rest of them, as you could barely hear a thing in the pandemonium happening all around them.
“KILL THEM ALL!” Someone yelled over all other sounds, snapping him out of his reverie and Storm grabbed Sudi’s arm anxiously.
“Go find Dalbert!” He barked. “We need prisoners.”
“What for, milord?” Secundus asked, stopping next to him, as Sudi hobbled away and into the thick of the scrap.
“Information,” Storm deadpanned and checked to see, if his armor was still in one piece.
Obtained through the most time-tested manner this Realm over.
Torture.
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Dalbert’s cutthroats managed to take the upper hand, some of them entering the two buildings and setting them on fire, people jumping from the windows and crashing on the stone-tiled square not to be burned alive, or butchered. Others entering the Dome and getting pushed back immediately, the determined counter attack by a group of Golden Spears led by Sir Adam Reus himself. The around twenty strong force broke through and fought their way down the stairs, trying to reach the west side of the massive building.
“They are going for the stables!” Storm yelled and grabbed Secundus by the elbow and shoved him towards the heavy fighting. “Stop that knight, my good man!”
Secundus and his bodyguards charged there to offer assistance, Storm following them a couple of meters behind them, his sword in hand. Secundus killed an armed monk, injured another, the Golden Spears realizing they were being pushed towards Dalbert’s thugs, a good number of the latter noticing the heavy scrap and coming their way to help out their friends.
Or just kill some more people in the chaos.
Gods’ damnit! Storm cursed seeing Sir Reus, chopping off an arm, the bodyguard crying out like a dog having his jewels removed with a blunted blade. The inquisitor parried a sword aside, opened another’s sternum on the return and punched Secundus in the face splitting his lips and knocking a couple of teeth off.
You son of a bloated bitch!
Storm walked briskly towards him, the man stepping back to assess the situation. Seeing Dalbert’s thugs flanking them, the whole square alight from the flames erupting from the two adjoining buildings windows, he turned, grabbed a thin, pale-faced monk hidden behind him from the nappe and hurled him almost the other way, through the opening he’d managed to cut through Storm’s men. The narrow alley leading to the back of the Dome starting there.
“RUN!” Sir Reus bellowed and turned to face Secundus and the rest of his bodyguards converging on him. Storm paused, looked to his right, saw Dalbert’s thugs cutting through the outnumbered monks that had followed the knight out of the church, Sudi amongst them and yelled twice as loud, having recognized the bespectacled monk now stumbling away towards the alley.
“SUDI GO AFTER THAT MONK! FOR FUCK’S SAKE, DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!”
Storm himself running after him pushing a bleeding bodyguard out of his way. Sudi cried an order out and several fleet-footed brigands charged after the monk from the other side, jumping over the Dome’s bloody stairs. Storm gave it his all, his legs hurting, knee burning something fierce, sweat covering his face, but more alive than he ever felt in years. Sudi surprisingly reached him a moment later, the screaming thugs blasting past him easily, armed to the teeth. Most of them, heavy-laden with loot and even food, but seemingly unfazed at the burden and unwilling to slow down.
It was fuckin’ impressive.
The thin and fully panicked monk entered the dark alley, sandaled feet slipping and almost going down, glanced back, eyes huge under those thick glasses, saw the dozen or so shouting insults thugs closing in on him, realized he’ll never reach the end of that alley and surprisingly stopped with a grimace of disgust, instead of giving it a shot and turned around.
Huh?
The monk inserted a nervous hand into his robe’s side pocket, got something out, his eyes dancing right, left and then down at the cobblestone road, a chilling smile creeping up his reedy-lipped mouth.
No… ye piece of shit!
“GET DOWN!” Nattas barked, loud as he could and grabbed Sudi’s shoulder to drag him with him as he dived for the street. The rocks hard and forbidding.
“Chief… what the fuck—?”
Clank.
The large vial went before it broke on the cobblestone, just in front of the leading brigand and then a strange light appeared. Blinding, as if straight from Uher’s place in heavens. Pure white and unnatural, it murdered whatever darkness was left inside the alley and paled that of the flames outside.
The explosion that followed monstrous.
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Nattas was hurled back, gliding violently on the stone-tiles of the square, losing a fingernail trying to hold onto the ground, Sudi tumbling feet over head next to him, pieces of charred flesh, bones and broken bricks bombarding his battered body, a scalding hot wind blasting out of the alley, turning into a cyclone almost for a brief second and extinguishing the flames on the two burning buildings fifty meters away momentarily. The whole square shook, stone-tiles cracking and even dislodging nearer to the event, the sound of a mountain slowly coming down reverberating into the rather enclosed space, windows breaking and half the west side of the huge Dome cracking and collapsing, filling the alley the monk had entered with tons of debris.
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“GAAH!” Storm coughed, trying to breathe, smoke and dust clogging his airways. Someone held him up by an arm, legs shaking and ears ringing, blinded from one eye. His whole body hurting, as he had been beaten with a hard stick for a week.
He looked right and left trying to see who was left standing, most of Dalbert’s thugs coming about at the distance, but for those that had followed that accursed monk inside the alley. Shell-shocked and white from top to bottom, they coughed and stumbled trying to find their bearings.
Secundus, his ears bleeding, caked blood on his mouth and teeth, shoved him towards the smoke covered Dome. The stairs covered with bodies, not all of them whole. Nattas realized Sudi was hugging him, the man grimacing to his face, tears in his eyes and pushed him away.
“The hells wrong with you?”
He asked, realizing he couldn’t hear himself talking.
Fuck.
Secundus poured some cool water over his head, his eye working again and ears slowly stopped ringing. Storm still felt like crap though.
“How did ye know chief?” Sudi yelled in his ear next, Nattas recoiling and almost running him through with his sword.
“Good-gravy!” He blasted him, stopping at the last moment, seeing his man moved for saving him earlier. “I’m not deaf ye fool,” Storm said, mellowing it at the end.
He breathed once deep, saw Dalbert’s thugs putting to the blade everything that moved, Golden Spears, monks and hapless civilians alike and turned to Secundus, the man in the process of washing his face off the muck and blood at the time.
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“Go ‘n stop them now, for fuck’s sake!”
“Ah, sire. See now they might not be inclined—”
“Cut down the culprits that do!”
“Aye, Milord,” Secundus replied, crooking his mouth.
“Chief,” Sudi probed him, while he watched his bodyguards running to stop the carnage.
“Yes!”
“Better check inside, for Gordian,” Sudi said and wiped his face with a cloth, part of a shirt that wasn’t his. Lots of discarded clothing and weapons about them, amidst the debris and the bloody dead bodies. Storm realized he’d a fingernail missing, whole thing gone, bloody wound caked with dirt, his middle finger a mess. For a long moment, Nattas couldn’t remember how he’d gotten that particular injury and then he did.
Ah.
Of course.
“Lead the way,” Storm hissed, snatching the cloth from his hands to bandage his finger and followed after him, first couple of steps shaky and his legs barely working.
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The inside of the Dome appeared bombarded, chairs broken and toppled over. A wall collapsed on his left, the gap left huge, the whole structure over their heads, not as sturdy as Nattas would have preferred, given what had transpired. Was the rat-faced monk dead? He wondered, looking about for anyone still breathing. Several bodies had gotten hurled to the opposite side of the wall that had collapsed, a couple still laying by the altar, low level disciples mostly wearing dark yellow robes.
“There’s one wearing an ankh,” Sudi pointed at the base of one the huge main columns, supporting the Dome. A priest was left there, face a dark blue, reminding him of Sudi after he’d taken the poison. “That bitch,” his lackey spat.
“It was a sound idea,” Storm commented a little self-consciously, standing over the unconscious, or half-dead high level priest. He gave him a kick with his boot right at his knee, but the aged man didn’t even blink. Storm sighed. The priest was looking at the empty, his eyes glassy, something they’d missed in the dark and hazy bowels of the temple.
“Eh, he’s gone,” Sudi decided. “Yeah. Ye think that’s Gordian?”
Storm smacked his lips, his injured hand sending a jolt of pain through his brain. Nattas groaned and stepped back. Took a minute for him to ride through the pain.
“Nay, he’s not,” he replied, when he did. “Search those near the altar,” Nattas said with difficulty.
Sir Reus wouldn’t leave the High Magister back, unless he was dead, or injured. In their hurry to escape, the only measure taken to secure him, a simple disguise.
“Hmm, old fool kinda looks familiar, Chief,” Sudi reported a short minute later. “Seems poisoned as well, but breathing sort of.”
Abrakas, thank you, Lord Nattas thought moved.
“Shall I knife him?” His man probed and Nattas closed his eyes in despair.
“Find Secundus, we are taking him with us.”
“You want him breathing?”
“Aye, Sudi. Does it bother you?” Storm taunted.
“Not in the least boss. We are running out of night and half the city is up is all,” he explained. “Half the realm must have heard that explosion.”
In a sense, while hyperbolic, Sudi was right.
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Not ten strides out of the Dome, lights coming from the palace, the massive building, no more than four hundred meters away on the other side of the square, warned them that people were eager to see what was happening. At the distance and over the inner walls and moat, the flames had died down. The only two buildings still left burning, being in the central square.
They had to move.
“Get him out of here,” Nattas ordered Sudi and the four bodyguards carrying the unresponsive masqueraded Gordian. “Head for my place. You,” he said to Secundus still talking with Dalbert’s remaining thugs. The brigands had taken a serious thrashing despite winning the scuffle. Mainly because they were looting and pillaging as much as they were fighting. “Tell them to disappear in small groups and stop killing civilians!”
“WHO YE THINK YE ARE?” One of them yelled. Several of the bloodstained criminals coming to his support.
“Enough!” Secundus barked. “Dalbert get your men out of here, while ye have the time! Have ye taken leave of yer senses man?”
Strom thought him being ‘Crazy’ kind of trumped that, but Dalbert, the man not visible amidst his own, thought differently. The central square emptied as fast as it had filled with people hours before. In a matter of minutes.
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An all but exhausted Nattas and his smaller group, now on horseback, led by Secundus and two remaining bodyguards, rushed towards the East Drawbridge, to assess the damage and coordinate with Captain Betto. Storm wanted to get this over with fast and then head back to his place and see what to do with Gordian. Either move him again, he thought, or do the deed right then and there.
“Whoa!” Secundus cried and pulled hard at the reins stopping them not five minutes later. The horses neighed, this part of the city less noisy, lights though visible on some of the windows and Nattas moved close to his hired-blade to see, what had him spooked.
CLOMP.
“Naossis tits,” one of his bodyguards exclaimed. The thunderous sound coming again and again, on measured intervals, straight from the still unseen East Drawbridge. Storm turned his horse, hearing people waking up, doors opening and heads appearing on fully lit windows.
Abrakas ye piece of shit!
CLOMP.
Damn it, Storm cursed and crooked his mouth, the sound nearing and increasing in volume, without losing its familiar tempo. A thousand feet marching in step, nailed-boots striking the cobblestone surface in precise rhythm. The axis of advance now visible, a long line of light from many torches, heading for the central square. King Alistair had heard, or seen the ruckus and had rushed back on the double, in the middle of the fuckin’ night, bringing the Legion with him.
“Boss?” Secundus asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously. “We better turn around.”
“We can’t run you fool,” Storm hissed and clicked his tongue to get his horse moving. “We are fighting all night to stop this madness,” he glanced at him, a wild smile on his face, half of it fear, the rest pure panic. “Rejoice, for we are delivered!”
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Storm took a deep breath, eyes of the people on him from half-opened doors, the road full of shadows and the smell of smoke everywhere. Captain Betto leading almost twenty mounted soldiers of the City Guard reached them first, the lights of the slow-moving, but sure-footed legionnaires still a good five hundred meters away, following the street leading to the East Drawbridge and the moat.
“State your name!” Captain Betto called out energetically, all an act, since they’ve talked not half a day back.
“This is Lord Nattas!” Secundus replied from atop his own horse, for those listening.
“My Lord,” the captain said, standing up on his mount. “What happened?”
“Send your men to the square, Captain,” Storm urged him. “People need help, I don’t have the manpower to do more.”
“Who started the fire?” Betto asked.
“It’s not clear yet. Captain there may be wounded there,” Storm insisted and Betto nodded.
“You heard Lord Nattas, you two stay with me. Sergeant Seneca!”
“Captain,” young Seneca said, bright eyes under the conned helm.
“Lead your men to the square. Secure it. Inform the palace guards and do what you can to get that fire under control!” Betto ordered him, Storm’s eyes on the King of Regia, approaching on his warhorse, a mounted Prefect of the Legion riding next to him, resplendent segmented armor with gold details, red leather cords daggling under the breastplate. Right behind him came a mounted Signifier, carrying high the square banner with the letter L on it and the name of the Cohort. Rows upon rows, of fully armoured legionnaires coming at them, the street shaking with each step, the noise thunderous.
Double aces, Nattas read, his teeth rattling. First Century, of the first Cohort.
The mounted Optio riding next to the Signifier at almost a parade pace, turned on his military saddle, seeing the King’s horse stopping five meters from Betto and Lord Nattas, with part of the central square still visible at the distance behind them.
“First Centurion Glycia, halt the column!” He ordered, loud voice cutting through the ruckus, the Centurion leading the legionnaires on foot, barking in turn twice as loud.
“Halt the Column! Decanus Frugus, see to the darn spaces! Use the street!”
“Keep the spaces! Open ranks!” Glycia boomed, none pleased being put on the spot in front of the King.
“At ease, Centurion,” the Optio ordered with a frown, nothing more visible behind his secured cheek guards.
King Alistair, a scowl on his face glared at Nattas, then at the fire lighting up the central square and finally the nervous Captain of the City Guard.
“My King, Captain, sixth rank, Canus Betto—” Betto started, never managing to finish.
“Skip to the report captain!” He snarled and Storm thought for a moment, the King might have him executed on the spot.
“We managed to beat back the fire at the Merchant district, my King,” Betto blurted out fast. “I’ve send men to control the one at the palace square—”
“When was this?” Alistair cut him.
“I’ve just found out, your Grace.”
“Prefect Crito!” The King barked. “Send the first Century into the square, on the double, before it spreads to the palace. Notify Prefect Ligur to send help. It will be nigh ruinous having my ancestors home and bones burned down, under our watch.”
“Right away sire,” Crito replied and turned to the expecting Optio. “Optio Varus, stay with the King. First Nine Tenths with me! Primus Pilus get them moving, on the double!”
“Close ranks! Heard the Prefect! Break is over!” Centurion Frugus boomed and the long armoured column started moving again. Storm pulled his horse to the side, everyone doing the same even the King. The whole street up and watching, as everyone had woken up by now, the legionnaires marching towards the square.
No soon than the last Tenth had advanced, the final hundred men staying behind, King Alistair approached Nattas, his face dark.
“Is this an accident Lord Nattas?” Alistair asked.
“It is not, your grace. This is a mess, done on purpose.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t yet know, but I’m very close to finding out,” Storm replied, grimacing as his hand was bothering him. King Alistair stared at him, the scowl permanent.
“What happened?”
“There was an uprising,” Storm explained. “The Golden Spears got into a scuffle with either insurgents, or a mob. People were killed, your grace.”
“They told me you were away.”
“I returned this evening,” Nattas said. “Saw the end of it and tried to prevent the worst, but I didn’t have the men. I lost several as a matter of fact.”
“Brigands.”
“And Golden Spears, your grace. They were killing people…” Storm paused unsure.
“Continue, Lord Nattas,” Alistair hissed.
“They used a… what they had used for the witch’s execution, your grace. Only much worse, as I understand it. It caused great damage to the Dome.”
“We heard it, saw it, the whole darn business,” the King replied sourly. “Captain Betto, follow us, if you please. Let’s check on the Queen, shall we? If my wife is dead, because you were trying to save rugs and carpets, I’ll have your head.”
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The black smoke coming out of the destroyed buildings, their roofs collapsed and the insides hollowed out, shaded the city of Alden’s Central Square from the strong morning sun. The square itself a bombarded warzone, with burned out bodies, mutilated corpses and even severed body parts peppering the debris filled stone tiles. Near the Dome and its stairs the ground was cracked and broken in places, the alley all but gone, the huge amount of material coming down the west collapsed side of the Dome, bombarding and destroying part of the buildings right across the street. One of them being the Library. While legionnaires, members of the City guard and shocked civilians were working hard to clear the rumble and collect the bodies, it would take days to return the square to what it looked like, if ever.
“Eighty soldiers of the Golden Spears killed, twenty priests of Uher, over fifty civilians slain, or burned, twelve members of the City guard dead, or missing and the corpses of thirty armed brigands, no one seems to know, where they came from,” King Alistair said, hands clasped on his back, looking much better than Nattas, who could barely stand, eyes red and hurting all over his battered body. “The Dome has ‘severe’ damage according to two experts and it is probably unsafe to use. I could tell that myself using my eyes and I’m not a bloody architect! A large warehouse, five houses burned out completely. Ah, the city’s darn Library isn’t safe to use also,” he stared at Lord Nattas, they were both standing at the entrance of the palace, after spending the rest of the night inspecting the relief efforts. “Had we been at war and this not my city, I’d declare this raid a success, Lord Nattas.”
“The Order of the Golden Spears had enacted a pogrom on the followers of Naossis, your Grace—”
“Whores!” Alistair snapped glaring at him, but Nattas continued on bravely. He couldn’t backpedal now. “A murderous attack on one of the Five gods that shocked the city, so soon after executing civilians for no other crime, than allegedly believing in the Old Gods. The manner of execution, the same they used in front of my eyes, to blow up part of the Dome and kill many outright, including their own.”
“Uher’s Light,” the King commented. “And these devil-worshippers murdered my daughter!”
“No devil worshipper manned that scorpion sire,” Storm replied, a vein throbbing on his left temple.
“Bah! I saw them, Lord Nattas,” Alistair grunted with a warning glare.
“I was there, your Grace. I believe it was a ruse,” Storm replied. “We killed every one of them. The men on the tower were not civilians.”
“So you say. Where’s the proof? Who did this?”
“The monk used a vial, sire. Some bizarre liquid, or other. There was no judgment served, nor divinity present. He was just trying to get away and save himself.”
“A spell?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Get away from the brigands, you say.”
“And civilians. The Golden Spears lost control of the situation and it backfired on them.”
“Conveniently Sir Reus is dead and we can’t find Gordian,” Alistair commented. “The commander of the City Guard has disappeared as well, six captains never reported for duty, one was sick, but he’d orders backing him up and our Mayor is vacationing in Valeria to avoid my ban on that foolish holiday.”
“Your Grace, Gordian may be hiding to avoid the blame for his actions. He harmed civilians, I have information he executed Vitalis as a devil-worshipper and Markellus Vibius. They tried to take over the city.”
“Ah, these are serious allegations Nattas. Vitalis was a devout man, I’ve seen him in the temple several times here and the Judge, Uher help us. He’d bore me to death on legalities, afore finishing his tea. Vibius a devil-worshiper? Bah! Have you any proof of this?”
“Vitalis was living a double life,” Storm said, his tone absolute. “I had my suspicions. But never thought it warranted his death, your Grace. The Judge would not sign off his execution, is the word in the streets.”
His agents were spreading with enthusiasm since the early hours.
“They killed him. Both of them,” the King said troubled. “I wasn’t notified for any of this.”
“The monk with the weird potion. I’ll have concrete evidence soon. This has gone beyond the pale, your grace.”
King Alistair, stood back and set his mouth.
“Where were you, Lord Nattas? You’ve been in Alden for months now, the day you leave the city, all hell breaks loose, yet you return to save the day. Is this what you’re telling me?”
Storm sighed, assuming a hurt look. It wasn’t difficult, he was in great discomfort.
“I failed preventing it, my Lord. I could never imagine their fanaticism would reach such lengths. I was out of the city on personal business that is also true. I returned too late. What I did, with the limited recourses I have, is trying to save as many as I could.”
“When did you return?”
“Early last night. Captain Betto was present, when I entered the city. Many of the guards saw me as well.”
“Hmm. Where did you go?” King Alistair asked him.
“Illirium. I wanted to pick up my daughter sire.”
“You have a daughter? In Illirium?”
“I do. A foolishness of my youth, I decided to take responsibility for,” Nattas stared at the soldiers cordoning the palace entrance silently. “She’s here with me.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of this?” Alistair hissed.
“Shame,” Storm replied and it came out truthful enough, for the King to back away.
“Did my wife…” The King cleared his throat, then tried again. “Did the late Queen know about this?”
Ah, the lies, always birth more lies.
“She did sire. I could never repay her kindness,” King Alistair frowned at that, a touch of sadness in his aged eyes.
“I’d like to meet the lass,” he said simply. “Is she married? I could put in a good word. I assume you’ll have her legalized?”
Storm blinked, as he hadn’t thought of this coming up. The fact the King presumed Maja was a bastard child still, not lost to him. “Ahm, no sire. I never gotten around arranging it.”
It created a paper trail and an unwanted record.
Coin was also a factor in this decision.
What have you gotten me into woman!
“You should take better care of your family, Nattas,” the King of Regia advised him. “Whilst you still have them. Find out what happened here and why. Learn more about this ‘potion’, the church is in possession. Divine or not, this thing can bring down walls.”
While sadly foreboding, the King’s words were true.
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
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