Authketill watched in disbelief as uniformed men milled around inside the shield wall. Beyond them he could see the torches and hear the cries and outrage of the protesters, though their efforts were futile against the men’s defensive line.

“I assume you’re the leader of this clinic?” A grizzled clean shaven man asked. He wore the colors of a noble houses, Authketill wasn’t sure which, under his armor. He did note that the armor itself was scratched, dented, and worn. He didn’t seem like a man of higher education, though he had a no nonsense sense about him. From what Authketill could tell from his men, that was something he carried over into the rest of his duties.

“What’s left of it.” Authketill replied, looking over the shield wall to the still burning remains of the canvas tent. He was just happy he’d managed to keep his people safe. Struggling to his feet, fighting the weakness in his limbs, he offered the commander his hand. “I’m Authketill.”

“Captain Selkollr.” The man replied. “We saw the riots moving through the city from our barracks and went to help you as fast as we could.” He offered a confident smile. “Most of my men spent time at the front lines, so restraining a few unhappy people isn’t too much of an issue.” He grabbed Authketill’s shoulder. “Then again, that’s mostly a numbers game. You can only be in so many places at once.” He winked good heartedly. “You did good kid.”

Part of Authketill bristled at being called a kid, but a less welcome part felt safer hearing it from the Captain. “Where were you stationed?” He asked, deciding to change the subject.

Captain Selkollr pointed northward. “Up that ways a bit.” Then he waved for Authketill to sit down. “Rest and breathe. Take it easy. House Serpent-Vein’s got you now. We know how hard you work and train for the front lines, take the rest while you can. If you ever need help, don’t be afraid to ask us.” He handed Authketill a small waxpaper wrapped package.

They shook hands again, the Captain turning and walking away. The single red droplet on the back of his uniform standing out clearly in the night and bustle. Opening the small packet, Authketill looked down at a small pin, designed to be attached to the collar of his uniform, or the breast of a jacket. A droplet painted in red enamel.

“What’s happening here?” Someone asked, causing Authketill to look up. A fifth-year student stood before him, smoke still rising from his body. “You sent up an emergency signal, right?”

Authketill nodded, gesturing towards the Captain. “They saved us.”

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Solvi sat down at the table. It was old, worn, and cracked. Burn marks, scratches, chalk, and stains too old and worn in to be removed told the story of its use. Downstairs he could still hear Gauti crying out in pain. He’d done what he could but the effort left him trembling.

“Here have some tea, sir.” Solvi looked up to see the old man, fingers and forearms marked with scars, remnants from some cruel type of work. He put down the old and cracked cup in front of Solvi.

“Thank you.” Solvi’s hand trembled with the effort of wrapping his fingers around the clay. He looked across the table, into the shutters that had been pulled over the windows, one of the only things in the house that seemed neither worn, nor broken. “I don’t know what we’d do without your help.”

The man sat down opposite him. “Son, you did what you could. Stopping those people was never your job. You helped a lot of us the people who live here, the fact that some can’t see that isn’t your fault.” He had a kind smile, that made Solvi feel a little better.

The rest of his team was downstairs with Gauti, mostly because any noise they made would be harder to hear from down there. Solvi didn’t trust houses this worn and old to stop much sound and the last thing he needed was to bring the old man into danger. If not for the shutters and door clearly having been recently replaced, he wouldn’t have risked staying up here himself.

Another spike of pain moved through the back of his head and into his neck, so intense it brought tears to his eyes but he couldn’t make himself go down and join the others. Someone needed to be on the lookout in case the rioters came back. Or if someone came to help them.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Son, you need rest.” The old man leaned forwards slightly. His skin was sagging and leathery, cast in a ruddy hue by the light in his fireplace. “I’ve seen enough tethered whose exhausted themselves. You won’t be any good to your team if you don’t get some rest.” He reached over and put a hand on Solvi’s wrist. “You’re about to drop off the bench. I’ll eat my shoes if you could even lift the tea.”

Solvi looked down at the dark liquid, cast even darker in the low light. His fingers, blood stained and cut, shook against the clay. Solvi blinked, feeling another twinge move through his head. He took in a deep breath.

“My grand kids are on the lookout for anyone from the academy. Your team is downstairs and they need you more than you’re needed here. They need you rested so you can finish healing up your friend.”

“Right.” Solvi said, letting go of the mug. “You’re right, dammit.” Somehow he managed to get up on shaky legs.

The old man still had to help Solvi down the stairs, after he proved too exhausted and nearly fell on his own attempt. The man had already brought all of his blankets and pillows down, which meant Solvi was soon wrapped in a blanket and resting against the wall next to Gauti.

“What’s this?” Asked Gauti. He stood over a crate placed in one corner of the basement. He’d opened it and held out a little droplet of blood. It took Solvi an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was just enamel that covered it, rather than an actual droplet of blood.

“The mark of Varumgándr.” The old man said. He displayed a similar pin on his own jacket. “After House Serpent-Vein helped us with our roofs and such, they gave us those to put on our clothes. To show our solidarity and that we’ll help the people around us.”

Gauti looked down at the pin in his hand. “Do you mind if I take one?”

The old man waved him off. “I don’t mind, take as many as you’d like. They gave me way too many anyways.”

Gauti nodded. Through increasingly heavy eye lids, Solvi watched him pocket a handful, before he fell asleep to the quiet whimpers of Gauti.

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Ayvir landed atop the roof of a building in sector forty-three, from here he could overlook the square where the clinic was set up.

Sector forty-three usually held a large market during the day and a thriving night life before curfew. Since the area was the market hub for a good part of a somewhat wealthier part of the city, there was usually activity all the way until guardsmen came and shut it down. Ayvir, himself, had spent a good few nights drinking away his silver in the bars.

They were clean without being as outrageously expensive as some of the fancier drinking house that littered the richer parts of the capital. They also held a good humored atmosphere that invited camaraderie, conversation, and comfort.

Not tonight though. The square was full of people talking and murmuring among themselves. Some people were yelling and crying out though most, even the ones carrying torches, were quietly watching or dispersing. The square, which was usually relatively empty when the stalls were packed up, had a quarter of it taken up by a reflective black glass dome. The obsidian rose up as high as a building and completely covered a fourth of the square. Including the clinic

Ayvir sensed the presence of seven tethered within the dome, and someone was hiding in one of the buildings. More prominently was the source of power directly on top of the dome. He launched himself from the rooftop, trailing a line of shimmering particles. Landing on the dome a few steps away from the man sitting on a small protrusion.

“Master Ayvir.” Grimar Serpent-Vein said, from his seat. “Good to see you again.”

Ayvir approached slowly, very aware of the element he was standing on. “Master Grimar, I didn’t think I’d ever see your dome again.”

Grimar chuckled getting up and offering Ayvir his hand. “Honestly, I hoped I’d never need it again.”

Ayvir took his hands, shaking it once before letting go. “I presume you’re protecting the team under your dome.”

Grimar gave him an arch look. “The alternative being…?”

Ayvir snorted, turning to look out over people that were starting to disperse. Apparently, the sudden appearance of a new tethered was enough to remove the energy from the crowd.

“Thank you for saving them from the protesters.”

“Protesters?” Grimar’s skepticism was clear. He rose to stand next to Ayvir, looking across the rapidly dispersing crowd, then further beyond. Though the square lay in a relative valley of the capital, they could still see the gathering of lights casting against distant buildings. “How many protests split like this? Into precise groups with exact targets?” He let the words hang before turning to Ayvir. “You were smarter than this when we worked together on the front lines. Call it what it is.”

Ayvir gritted his teeth, not turning to Grimar. “An attack.”

“Ayvir, despite how I left the academy, I’m not actually your enemy. I want what’s best for Elusria and the United Alliance. I want our country to have a good relationship with Ankiria, not be underfoot of it. I am not the enemy.”

With the last of the crowd dispersed, Grimar stepped away from Ayvir. A section of obsidian under his feet broke off from the dome, tipping towards a nearby building. Grimar stepped off the obsidian just before it crumpled to dust, raining against the building’s facade as he landed on the roof.

Ayvir watched Grimar walk away as the rest of the dome began breaking into dust.