Arnorsson raised his hand and called, "We're here to negotiate." He waited until the furious shouts silenced. His cautious glance swept the gathered workers. They closed their mouths but their faces still expressed rage. Hundreds of furious eyes stared at Arnorsson from under the celadon hoods.

Arnorsson pointed at Erilaz. "Vardir Erilaz, the king's emissary, honoured us with his presence."

Erilaz looked at him warily, keeping an impassive expression.

"You, boy!" yelled one of the workers with a large, old scar on his face. Pointing at Erilaz, he continued, "Tell your king that he's a common thief!"

More voices repeated this statement. The Celestians began to swing their fists and beat at the barricade.

Great... thought Erilaz with discouragement. He bent down and reached his hand in an inquiring gesture. "Well... tell me what happened."

"He doesn't know," said the scarred rebellion leader, looking at his companions with a cheeky smirk. "Will we tell him?"

The voices resounded again but one of the workers, who stood next to the leader, stayed silent. He grabbed an empty can of paint, but the leader grabbed his hand on the sly.

"Wait!" the scarred Celestian whispered harshly and forced him to put the can into his pocket.

The leader raised his sight at Erilaz again and explained, "Your beloved king wanted to buy my factory." He waved his hand. "Fine, you might say. What's wrong with that?"

The Celestian who held a can gazed vacantly but he woke up from the reflection when the leader shouted.

"The problem is, he offered a price five times lower than it should be!" He slammed at the barricade. "And he wanted to cut our wages!"

Erilaz raised his finger. "You..." He tried to outshout the angry crowd, but the leader continued.

"And he said that's the final offer! I have to accept it or he's gonna arrest me for..." He paused to take a breath. "... nothing, some frauds or whatever shit I've never done!"

Arnorsson leant towards Erilaz. "Don't believe everything he says," he whispered.

Erilaz lifted his eyebrow but in a moment he nodded knowingly. He scratched his chin and turned towards the crowd. "Are you really sure he meant that?"

"No, I'm blind and deaf," responded the leader, tapping his forehead. With his fist clenched, he continued, "It's not even been a whole week since his reign began and he's already trying to ruin us!"

Erilaz glanced at Arnorsson and murmured, "They're angry. I think we should solve it quickly..."

Arnorsson only spread his arms. "I'll help you but... it's your mission now."

This response gave Erilaz a shiver of annoyance. He contorted his mouth. That made no sense to him but for some reason, the king wanted a Vardir Commander to take action personally. Since there was no chance for a peaceful conversation, he decided to put all cards on the table.

He took a firm position and asked, "What are your demands?"

"Two options." The leader showed two fingers. "He gives me back what belongs to me or he pays the right price."

"I will speak to him," declared Erilaz, glancing stealthily at Arnorsson.

"Good luck!" called somebody from the crowd.

Erilaz theatrically rolled up his sleeve to make sure that everyone sees what he's doing and tapped the LiqWatch a few times. He stood in this position until the red dot on the screen turned green.

"Ivendir? I mean, Your Highness," said Erilaz to the LiqWatch, "I'm speaking to the rebellion leader. I know his demands."

"I know them too, I'm watching you from above," a voice resounded over Erilaz's head.

Vardir looked up.

"He's a bit too confident," spoke Ivendir through a speaker in a drone that soared above the square all along. "I know the value of what I want to buy."

The worker who held a can in his pocket hasn't spoke a word all this time. He listened to the discussion with his eyes bored into the ground. No one noticed the tension rising in him. The thick coat masked his trembling arms and large veins on his hands. The conversations around him drowned out his rough, weak breath, so he had only one idea how to get attention.

"You know nothing!" he cried, throwing the can at the drone with all his strength.

The machine dodged, and its rotors buzzed during a rapid manoeuvre. All speech fell silent as the eyes of the workers directed towards the man.

He continued, hurling a metal pipe, "Your big palace isn't enough for you!" The falling pipe hit the ground, twanging and interrupting his helpless plea. "So you want to take whatever you can from us!"

Erilaz tried to say something but the worker broke in, "He wants to take everything from me! And not just from me. Look a them!"

Observing the crowd warily, Erilaz let him continue. The worker clenched his fingers on the barricade, leaning towards the Vardir. "He won't be able to make this factory prosper. We need it to survive!"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"I need this factory too," stated Ivendir from the speaker in the drone. "I will take care of..." A brick thrown by the worker hit the drone, silencing the king. The falling machine whirled and scattered sparks. It crashed to the ground and flickering flames surrounded it.

The worker observed it with a mass of different emotions billowing in his tired eyes. He and his companions had reasons to be afraid, to hate the new king and to fight for their uncertain future.

When the black smoke swirled around the wreck of the drone, the worker demanded, "Bring him here." He pressed his finger to the barricade, pointing at the spot right in front of him. "He's only so brave because he's speaking through this scrap."

The spite in the worker's voice stirred vigilance in Erilaz. His muscles tensed. A spark of ferocity flashed in his eyes while his pupils widened. He knew he shouldn't do it, but his hand instinctively reached towards his hip where he had a gun.

The worker hid his hand behind his back. He touched a gun he had in the holster on a belt.

Erilaz scratched his flank not to arouse suspicion and stood stiffly. The worker did the same. Erilaz still watched him with his ears strained.

To calm the crowd down, he raised his hands and said, "Very well. I will speak to him."

"When?" asked the scarred leader with his arms crossed.

"Soon," stated Erilaz, fiddling with his sleeve. "This week, maybe?"

The leader opened his mouth but the worker, who reached for his gun earlier, leant against the barricade and drooped his head.

"It's useless," he growled.

The leader looked at him, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

"Vardir or not, they are all the same!" the worker screamed and pulled his gun out.

"Calm down," hissed the leader, grabbing his hand and tugging it downwards.

Erilaz stepped back. He stood astride, taking a combat-ready position. His fingers brushed his shirt, reaching for a gun, but Arnorsson tapped his forearm.

"Don't to this," whispered Arnorsson in a commanding tone. "Don't make them even more pissed off."

"That's right," added Ivendir from the communicator on Erilaz's wrist, "but don't get yourself killed too."

Erilaz relaxed his muscles and exhaled quietly. He restrained his fervour to appear neutral and harmless. His instincts alerted him but he ignored the warning. Despite the cold and distant judgement, he knew somewhere inside that it won't end well.

Ivendir continued, "Take care of yourself, please. But shoot only when it's necessary."

"You don't see it, but I can't wait months!" the worker interrupted. His voice was turning more and more aggressive with every word. Glimmers of wrath and woefulness shone in his eyes. "I have to survive from one payoff to another. He can't cut our wages!"

Erilaz lifted his hands in a calming gesture "You can..."

"Shut up!" the worker yelled, ignoring the Vardir Commander. He pointed his gun at Erilaz. The leader tried to stop him but he wrenched his hand free. He kept talking, "Who's gonna pay for the meds for my wife? Three days without them and she's dead. What about my daughter? My only child?" he asked in a faltering voice. "Do you see any future for her without this pittance? Should she be a thief? Or a drug dealer?" The words he spoke began to merge together. "Or sleep with some old creeps?" He paused, panting and clenching his teeth. No one else said a word. The workers watched him all this time with concerned, uneasy or anxious expressions.

Erilaz didn't let him out of his sight even for a second. He stood firmly, slightly leaning forwards in a vigilant pose. His stiff hands were ready to grab the gun. The dull but rapid pounding of his heart resounded in his head.

"Erilaz, please, be careful now," said Ivendir. "Shoot only if you have to. You have a right to do it in this situation. He is dangerous."

"No," interrupted Arnorsson. "Wait. Don't show them any weapons."

"It's about his safety, Arnorsson. And yours too."

Erilaz didn't listen to them too carefully. He knew what to do. He only hoped it would be solved without violence. Killing a civilian won't improve his reputation.

"Let us handle this,' added Ivendir.

Before any of them answered, the worker broke in, his sight bored into the ground, "I knew it. You can't do anything about that." He sniffed, choking the tears back. '"You will just sit on your golden couch and watch us starve." He took a few deep, quick breaths as if he was suffocating." Looking from above like you were some kind of gods!" He raised his gun and shot.

Erilaz drew the gun and pulled the trigger too. He focused on this action so profoundly that he didn't pay attention to the impact he felt on his chest.

Two gunshots echoed among the blocks. One of them was muffled, and the other one pierced the air with a shrill bang. Erilaz staggered but Arnorsson caught his arm. Only then he noticed the searing pain around his heart. He clenched his fingers on his chest. More shots blasted out and within three seconds a wall of rumbling noise reached his ears.

"Get back!" shouted Arnorsson and pulled Erilaz towards the ladder. He helped Erilaz climb down and then he jumped from the vehicle.

"You killed him!" somebody's voice pierced through the thunderous cannonade.

"Are you ok?" called Arnorsson, holding Erilaz's arm. The Vardir Commander was bending forwards, still gripping his shirt.

Erilaz growled with pain and looked at his palm. It was covered in a green slime. The same substance stained his shirt.

"A slime gun?" he wondered out loud. "A fake bullet?" He raised his eyebrows with anxiety when he discerned the situation.

"Hide!" ordered Arnorsson. Little drops of drizzle began to fall from the sky and specked on his face shield. Clutching his rifle on the alert, he hunched over and trotted towards a pile of scrap. Erilaz followed him.

A few bullets struck the blocks behind them. The roar of the firefight filled the whole district. The rebels fell one by one but those who survived fired at the officers from their guns, rifles and anything else that could inflict damage. Burning cans of oils, paints and other substances landed in front of the militia members. Flames embraced a few of them similarly to snakes strangling their prey. Their coruscium armours and suits were bulletproof but the high temperature itself boiled fragments of their skin.

Both sides ignored the raindrops splashing on their heads and the sky darkening over them. The officers forged ahead, blasting the rebels away.

Arnorsson and Erilaz sneaked behind the scrap and hid between two blocks. The dark grey clouds spewed out more and more raindrops. The hydrophobic coating of Arnorsson's face shield made the water stream down but Erilaz's soaked clothes stuck to his skin. The Vardir's golden hair now resembled tufts of swamp grass.

"I was sure it was a real gun..." muttered Erilaz, running behind Arnorsson in the maze of blocks.

"Too fucking late," growled the Militia Commander.

Erilaz halted. "Listen," he demanded. He focused on the sounds to check if somebody followed them but the firefight seemed to still take place on the square in front of the factory.

"I'm not some kind of peacekeeper." Water streamed down his hair, reaching his earholes and mouth. His light brown shirt became dark and clung to him, revealing his fair-sized muscles.

Arnorsson stopped too and turned around. He was ready to tell Erilaz off but the Vardir Commander continued.

"I'm a Vardir. I'm taught to react quickly. I see danger, I fight back..."

"Go back to Ermdahr's ship," ordered Arnorsson, pointing at the street next to him. "Don't fly too low."

He sprinted back towards the firefight without looking back.

Despite the disagreements, Erilaz followed his order. Arnorsson was way more experienced so he knew what he was saying. Piercing through the walls of water from the sky, Erilaz ran down the streets where Ermdahr landed earlier.

I'm taught to kill, was his last thought before he jumped into the vehicle.

Arnorsson was approaching the square. Even though his helmet muffled the loudest blasts, he heard how the gunfire slowly died down. Fury ripped him apart from within. He never tolerated when somebody pried into his job.

The king should stay away from my fields of operation, he thought. Right before he charged on the square, he added, Brymir or Ivendir, I know what to do better than them all...