Loyalty betrayed,

Injustice portrayed.

* Prophecy of the duskbringer

First day of the second week of Autumn. Noon…

Jacques and Hadoom wound their way along their patrol route back to the precinct office, stopping but briefly to procure some lunch at a local food stall.

They made brief work of the hefty wraps they bought, the delicious food disappearing down their gullets in record time to sate their hunger.

“This southern food from Imperyn hits the spot for sure lad, I never used to hold much with spicy foreign food, must be getting soft in me old age.” Hadoom commented as he licked the juices off his fingers.

Jacques shrugged, “It's tasty and convenient to eat while walking, what's not to like? And you started slipping years ago old man, bringing it up now will… ”

Jacques paused as they came into view of the precinct, Lazy Joe and Fat Fendon were standing outside.

They were the shameless lackeys of Captain Sladlow and were never up to any good.

“Brace yourself lad, I smell trouble” Hadoom warned.

Jacques nodded in response, his face settling into an indifferent cold mask, together they approached the precinct entrance.

Fat Fendon was the first to see them as they marched up to the door, he elbowed his dozing partner, bringing him to attention before calling out.

“Hadoom, Jacques, captain wants to see you, come with us.”

“Yes ‘officer’ Fendon. Please lead the way.” Jacques focused on formality, implicitly criticizing Fendon for his lack thereof.

Fat Fendon grunted before turning around and heading through the doors, Lazy Joe waited until they entered before he stuck his hands into his greasy wool waistcoat and followed, rolling his steps as he sauntered into the offices.

Jacques and Hadoom passed the entry hall and reception counter, ignoring the noise and hubbub of civilians laying complaints or reporting a crime, it was sometimes difficult to tell which was worse to them, a thief in the night or their neighbour’s pets eating their flowers.

Continueing on they passed the suk dens where the trained canines lay curled up or pacing in their cages, bored and whining.

Jacques had to steel his features further, the suks were not fed enough or brushed to Jacques’s liking, a dishonorable lack of care by their handlers.

Walking up a flight of stairs they entered what had come to be called ‘The Workroom’, here, pairs of desks were scattered about with no order to speak of.

And they were just about all occupied, some few officers were filling in paperwork, but the majority lazed about napping or eating, a few were even openly drinking on duty.

Jacques felt his stomach sour, most of the district was here.

‘Why aren't they out patrolling and upholding the law, or at least pretending to.’

Jacques was under no illusions about how many of the current officers used keeping the law as an excuse to seek bribes and kickbacks.

‘This feels far too much like a setup’ his gut told him.

By now they had traveled through the workroom, all the officers surreptitiously glancing at them as they passed.

The duo came to the captain's office and led by Fat Fendon promptly entered, coming to a stop before the desk at which Captain Sladlow sat.

The desk was a mess of papers and unread documents, meant to convey that he was extraordinarily busy, but in reality conveying naught but his own incompetence.

The stench of liquor dominated the room and even a whiff of…

‘Is that Joombla?’ Jacques thought, as he fought to keep a surge of rage from showing his face

“Officers Ironproc and Woodsinger reporting Sir Captain.” Hadoom rattled off, formality dripping off his stiff tone.

‘Of course he knows something is very wrong as well’ Jacques observed. ‘We’d have to be fools not to, but what is it?’

Lazy Joe shut the door behind them, then went to stand behind Captain Sladlow with Fat Fendon.

A slimy smile adorned the Captain's face as he looked upon them, made all the worse by his slightly unfocused pupils.

‘He’s bloody high as a kite, damn fool of an officer’ thought Jacques

“Officers Ironproc and Woodsinger,” Captain Sladlow gloatingly sneered

“It has come to my attention that the two of you have broken your oaths as law officers. You have stolen evidence from the scene of a crime, specifically from the remains of Friedrich's workshop when you were there poking around on the morning of the incident.”

Jacques glanced at Hadoom from the corner of his eye, seeing the very slight shrug he gave, conveying the dwarfs own puzzlement to him.

They had hidden the pouch with the restricted metals the entire time on their person’s, not letting it out of their sight.

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The plan was to dump it this evening in the sewers, how had they been found out?

Jacques felt cold sweat dripping down his back, but he and Hadoom managed to keep their faces blank and spines ramrod straight, years of practise and experience paying off in this moment.

“Officer Fendon, would you kindly bring me the evidence.” Sladlow requested

The captain’s grin was wide and full, not even bothering to hide his delight at their predicament.

Fat Fendon walked over to a metal evidence cabinet that was bolted to the wall. Using the key tossed to him by the captain he opened it and removed two twisted pieces of silver blue metal about the length of his forearm, he brought them over and laid them on the table.

“These were found in your lockers during a spot inspection at the ninth bell this morning. What do you have to say for yourselves?” Demanded Sladlow

Jacques and Hadoom relaxed.

They had not been discovered, their lives were not forfeit, this was merely a petty setup.

If a surprise inspection had really happened then every officer but them would likely be due for the slave pits, in fact this was the first time a surprise inspection had happened in the last twenty years.

The irony was not lost on them that they were being accused of something they actually did, but with falsified evidence and motive.

They both cracked a smile but kept silent, nothing they could say would change the outcome at this point.

When they remained mute Sladlow sniffed, and deprived of the entertainment of seeing them break down that he had been anticipating, he continued.

“It is with great pleasure that I hereby expel you both from the association of Law Officers of the Kingdom of Darish without recourse or pension. Hand over your badges and equipment. Now”

Jacques mechanically unpinned his badge, and tossed it onto the table, feeling a sense of relief and disappointment as it bounced and spun upon the desk.

His eyes drawn to it’s movements he saw a fresh looking letter lying folded on the table between two piles of reports.

When Hadoom threw his badge, blaster and pacifier baton on the table and followed it with a glob of spit Jacques moved forward, pretending to hold Hadoom back, and using the moment of distraction he swiped the letter and slid it into his sleeve.

After the duo had both been properly divested they turned and marched out of the office.

They made their way through the workroom with every eye on them, mutterings of “Half blood bastard”, “Midget trash” and “Good riddance to the snoots” were snarked as they passed.

“Leave it Jacques” growled Hadoom just loud enough for him to hear.

Jacques clenched his fists until they whitened, but he held his tongue.

They continued walking as the jeers rained down from all sides.

Just as they reached the door a bulky Sergeant called Horless stepped in front of them.

“Yer still wearing the uniform, yer damn traitors, leave it here ‘fore yer go.” He demanded

Without breaking step Hadoom stomped down with his left foot and threw out a uppercut.

It was a practiced uppercut, smooth and clean with no wasted movements, the very air whistled as all of Hadoom's hundred and fifteen kilograms of pure dwarvish fury was put behind it.

The haymaker connected right between Horless's thick thighs, a crisp crack sounding as Horless was lifted a full foot off the ground.

When he landed Horless was out cold, his jaw hung slack and foaming, with his eyes rolled back, only the whites showing.

“ANY OF YOU OTHER GUTTER BRAT'S WANT SOME!? I JUST LOST SIXTY YEARS OF MY PENSION. I FEEL AN URGE TO DO SOME BLOODY DISMEMBERING. ANYONE HERE WANT TO VOLUNTEER?!!” Hadoom roared.

The workroom fell silent, officers averted their eyes as Hadoom swung his glare around the room.

Snorting in disdain Hadoom spat in their direction.

“May the twelve divines curse everyone of you honorless gusha's to the depths of torment and misery.” having said his piece the dwarf stomped out the door into the stairwell with Jacques following close behind.

They walked down the stairs and out of the precinct building in silence.

Then kept walking.

“Leave it be huh” smirked Jacques after they had covered a good distance.

“Aye, but Horless had it coming, never liked the brat once since he joined. Always pretended to be upright when he was one of the worst of them.” Hadoom responded

The duo walked in silence for another few minutes, each lost in their thoughts.

“What's a gusha?” Jacques finally asked.

Hadoom wrinkled his nose, “Nasty little bug found in the mines is what it is, sprays it's gunk all over you as soon as you so much as look at it. Takes weeks before you stop smelling like you took a dip in a cesspool.”

They kept walking, their unguided footsteps leading them on their usual patrol route out of pure muscle memory.

“Thanks.” murmured Jacques as they passed over a small bridge.

“You're welcome lad, I know you were one second from frying him to a crisp, and that would have been murder and a rope necklace for you. Couldn't let you do it lad, not after all we've been through.” Hadoom replied

Jacques clasped the old dwarf on the shoulder, expressing his gratitude.

The action brought a rustling of paper and reminded him of the letter he had stuffed up his sleeve earlier, he pulled it out and skimmed over it before letting out a low whistle.

“What you got there lad?” Hadoom asked, his curiosity spiking.

Jacques said nothing, merely handing over the sheet of paper.

Hadoom read it once, then twice before letting out some juicy curses, causing a passing sailor to blush and hurry on.

“Well this explains some things,” The dwarf grumbled,

“A letter instructing the captain to find any excuse to fire us, signed with naught but the image of a raven. This whole affair smells like whole nest of gusha’s, we’d do well to steer clear of the whole stinkin’ lot of it”

They kept walking in silence, each wondering which noble they had pissed off enough to bring down such a punishment.

“Well there’s not much point in stewing ourselves over it, what’s done is done.” Hadoom declared with finality,

“Now Lad, what say we go and get properly smashed down at the Five Legged Murgoat. Maybe this time you'll let me drink you under the table. Narla's belly button, we both need to forget today ever happened.”

Jacques smiled sadly “Sounds like a plan my old friend, sounds like a plan.”

The two walked side by side, on a newfound quest to slay their sobriety.

……………………………….

Same day, Fifth bell of the afternoon...

Bombas closed his shop on time as he always did, bidding farewell to his last few customers and locking the front door.

Moving with his rolling, gliding gait he swept up the two day old bread and took the few surviving loaves out to the alleyway at the back of his shop.

There waiting for him stood several scrawny children in ragged clothes.

Bombas gradually broke the bread and handed out chunks to each child, giving them a smile as he did so, asking questions about how they were doing and giving encouragement and advice to problems they told him of.

Once done he called out to one in particular.

“Little Tim, where are Lucy and Vera?” he asked

“The Groaks got em” Little Tim replied, “Came with papers sayin they owed em some coins and took em away last night”

Bombas sighed, the two girls had wanted to start a jammery, and had been making the plans and contacts they would need once they turned fourteen and were legally allowed to open a business.

A foolish waste, another drain on society’s potential from it’s ever cancerous affliction,

It made him feel old some nights, but his good wife encouraged and comforted him, helping him to focus each day on doing some good, any good, and leaving the world a little better for it.

Bombas bid the little street urchins good night and entered his shop once more.

He stopped at the sight of a small card that lay ever so innocently on the countertop, propped up against the jam stand.

His face turned grim as he took in the image of a black raven stamped upon it.

No rest tonight then for old Bombas.