Chapter Fourteen - The Parade

1 Seleszeni 10.076 Z.C., Morning

The commencement speeches ended on time, another good omen for an uneventful Guildpact Day. The head and body of the parade ahead of them progressed without interruption. As their float started off, Mav picked out the hum of mana-fueled apparatuses on the cart, guessing they served as magical stabilizers. As the initiates walked alongside the float, he noted its remarkable stability despite the rough unevenness of the cobblestone street.

The cheering of the crowd grew louder as they approached the edge of the Tenth District Plaza, beginning down the parade route following the float in front of them. Ahead, arresters held positions along the narrow path carved out of the crowd for the floats. Leaving the security of the fortified Plaza, Mav felt a bead of perspiration slide down the back of his neck. His hand rested on the hilt of his shortsword, and he forced his fingers to remain loose around the guard. Ahead, Lilla looked nervous as well, her movements stiff.

Angels guide us, Mav prayed, sparing a glance toward the skies. As if in answer, his eyes lit upon a familiar white-winged form, an angel glowing in the sun as she circled far overhead. He took a deep breath, remembering they watched from on high, and set anxiety aside to focus on his duty. A quick glance showed his unit in position, nervous though they were.

Mav couldn’t blame them. Escorting a senator through town, hemmed in on both sides by a mob of adoring onlookers - even with reinforcements nearby Mav smelled tension rising from his ranks like steam from the sewer. Turning his attention to the monumental task ahead, he resumed scanning the crowd, looking for the glint of steel or a hint of malice in the faces of the celebrating citizens.

Several unexciting blocks passed, and Mav and the others relaxed their hypervigilance once the initial shock of being surrounded in the street wore off. Young and old, rich and poor, most all the spectators cheered and waved, many calling out to Senator Orric as he passed. Must be Gondola Digest’s Windbag of the Year, Mav thought, after spying a flotilla of the bedazzled balloon-suspended airships floating above him.

Mav didn’t follow politics; he preferred to settle differences face-to-face instead of through wheedling and backstabbing. The senator, for his part, smiled and waved back, maintaining a cool composure. The rest of the dignitaries did the same. The Simic half-elf, Rafiel, kept his back tense and his hybridized limb glued to his side, shaped like a normal hand. Mav again got the impression Rafiel didn’t frequent the spotlight.

The heat of the spring sun beat down upon the procession as the crowd pressed in, the mass of bodies blocking the breeze and producing even more heat. Thankful for every inch of space between him and the crowd, Mav wished he could at least rid himself of this accursed helmet, if not the breastplate. It reduced his range of vision and, thanks to his generous locks, trapped warmth. He wiped sweat from his hands and forehead at regular intervals, and looked forward to a cool shower when he got back to Sunhome.

At a handful of points, onlookers broke through the unsecured barricades, running into the Promenade to try their luck getting onto the float. Mav, Lilla, and Juzjub repelled them with ease. Emboldened runners broke from the crowd on the other side of the road to try the same thing, the initiates on the far side of the float turning them away too.

Mav shook his head. Some folk thought just touching fame would improve their life or station somehow. Be careful what you wish for. He glanced up at the dignitaries on the float. They appeared unfazed by the civilians rushing at them, continuing their serene waves.

The parade rolled on, and Mav marvelled at Orric and his guests’ stamina, able to keep their arms up after considerable waving and smiling. No further trouble harassed the parade, and he estimated they already passed the halfway point. The long parade route stretched several miles through the city, but with the floats moving along at a brisk pace, the time went fast.

As they neared the end, Mav noticed the road narrowed between two wide edifices. In addition, a collection of congested sky bridges and overpasses, uncommon at this level of the city, criss-crossed over the Promenade. Splatz’d weathered falls twice as high without even a scratch, and with the walls closing in, this seemed like a great spot for an ambush.

Though looking forward to a few cool moments in the shade, Mav couldn’t help but feel a tremor of unease. Despite their passing several similar choke points along the route already, he sensed something amiss this time - but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Still, the parade would go on. Sharpening his perception, he scrutinized the celebrants on the overpasses for signs of danger and found nothing out of the ordinary, shaking off his misgivings.

The float passed under the skybridges undisturbed, until ahead of them, several Rakdos street performers pole-vaulted over the barricades, blocking the path. The cart rumbled to a halt, stabilizers still humming. The acrobats and jugglers cackled, calling up to Senator Orric with exaggerated praise. Mav hesitated, hand on his sword’s hilt. Don’t draw too soon; don’t leap to conclusions.

Maintaining his post, he waited, alert for more signs of trouble. From above, more Rakdos performers fell from the overhead walkways, landing with grace on the float, knives out. His own sword cleared its scabbard, and Mav leapt onto the float as well.

“Legion, with me,” Mav called, and his team all jumped onto the platform, followed by the pole vaulters. The performers outnumbered the initiates three-to-one. Weighing options, Mav scanned the crowd, seeing a lot of red and black clothing. Rakdos territory - better to wait for reinforcements than risk bungling an evacuation.

“Senator, citizens, stay on the float. Keep to the center, away from these clowns.” His voice carried, ringing out over the gasps of the crowd and taunting their aggressors. The dignitaries started a cautious shuffle toward the center of the float while Mav and his team circled with the Rakdos, making sure to cover each other’s backs as they angled for the best positions.

So far, the attackers seemed more interested in spectacle rather than true blood sport. However, the crowd’s frenzied cheers and shouts urged them on. A fight seemed imminent, but by the angels, Mav would be damned if his team drew first blood.

“Steady,” he reassured, holding his own blade at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gaius shake his head but hold firm.

After another bout of cackling laughter, the Rakdos performers attacked, some aiming for the soldiers, but others going right for the senator and his guests. Mav and his team held defensive positions, ready for the fight. Bashing a knife-thrower’s face with his shield, he slashed at another man who twirled flaming batons. The jester dodged his attack with a nimble backflip and jeered. Mav ignored him, being goaded away could reap deadly consequences.

Focused on protecting the Azorius dignitaries, his world became a blur of parrying, blocking, and slashing to keep the would-be assassins at bay. “Sloppy!” came Sergeant Drazhan’s voice in his head, when he blocked too low and several knives sliced his exposed underarm. He didn’t feel the bite of poison, so pushed aside the pain and continued fighting.

Beside him, the older blond woman screamed, clutching her diamond necklace. Mav looked over his shoulder and saw the man with flaming batons rushing her. Jumping to the side, he raised his shield and braced for the impact of the charge. Instead, the acrobat hopped up and sprang against Mav’s shield to change course, double-teaming Initiate Gaius nearby.

Mav cursed the fiend lovers, then remembered the lady behind him, and looked back. She now stood with her husband, huddled in his arms as they stood at the center of the float, shielded from the melee.

Senator Orric once stood at the center of the float, but now disappeared. Glancing around, Mav spotted legionnaires from the next float running ahead to join them. On the other side of the older couple, the hybrid Rafiel thrust a blade through one of the acrobats, protecting their rear. At the far corner of the platform, Lilla and two performers lay unmoving on the floor. The other initiates held firm despite being overmatched. Senator Orric, however, was nowhere in sight.

Swearing again, Mav decided to focus on protecting the occupants of the float rather than splitting up the team to search for the senator in the midst of combat. He imagined Orric would turn up groveling in a corner somewhere, anyways. Help would arrive soon, in time he hoped. For now, he needed everyone up and fighting.

The dignitaries in no immediate danger, Mav raced to where Lilla lay at the blond daughter’s feet. Dropping to his knees at her side, he pulled out his field med kit. After a quick examination he discovered a deep gash in her thigh oozing blood - without intervention she would stay unconscious and be unhelpful in the fight. Tearing open a packet of enchanted herb paste and fishing out a strip of bandaging, he poured the poultice into the deep slice in her leg, wrapping bandages around it and tapping Lilla’s face until her eyelids fluttered.

“Wha-?” she mumbled, then her eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet, reaching for her rapier. Guess she remembered the fight, Mav mused as she rejoined the melee.

Repacking his med kit in a series of rehearsed motions, he glanced up at the young woman. He expected her face to be a mask of fear, surprised to instead meet a pair of thoughtful green eyes. The sun haloed her golden tresses, and she extended a hand to help him up. Puzzled, Mav frowned at her hand and stood on his own.

She saved my life,” the young woman thanked. He half-nodded, retrieving his longsword. Gaius fended off four Rakdos behind her, and needed immediate help. Wasting no more time, Mav rejoined the battle, flanking two of the performers with a determined shout to take pressure off Gaius.

Rafiel’s friend Bron called for help, and the elven hybrid leapt on an offender as Mav backed up Gaius. He saw several folk from the crowd join in the fight on their side, repelling the parade crashers with improvised and actual weapons. The tide of battle turning and Legion reinforcements nearing, the performers scattered like mortipedes in the sun. Mav searched the chaos for Senator Orric again, and still could not find the tall human. Dread curdled Mav’s guts.

In front of the float, a sudden explosion released a cloud of black smoke. Sweet Aurelia, what now? Shield at the ready, Mav turned to see what new danger presented itself. A telltale armored silhouette shot out of the smoke, natural agility enhanced by golden-brown wings. No, it can’t be...

Rocman, the Serial Scroll superhero, grabbed a fleeing Rakdos performer and threw her aside, slamming her onto the ground and knocking the wind out of her. Mav blinked at the fictional masked vigilante, then his eyes narrowed. This ‘Rocman’ appeared to be on their side, at least for now. A cry from the older woman drew his attention to the float once again, where he saw an assailant had crawled back onto the float and threatened her.

Running to help the older couple, a dark shape shot past Mav. Rocman plucked the performer out from under Mav’s sword, pulling him up into the air as the man yelled and shrieked.

“Let me go!” he cried, struggling to break free. Mav swore as he saw Rocman’s lip curl into a cruel smile, granting his victim’s request.

Mav pushed the dignitaries back to keep the performer from falling on them. The man hit the ground with a sickening crunch, his leg absorbing the brunt of the fall, and he succumbed to merciful unconsciousness.

The Legion reinforcements arrived, detaining the remaining Rakdos, including those taken down by Rocman. Healers treated any serious injuries, and arresters quoted the attackers their rights under Guildpact law. Aside from the missing senator, the rest of the float members stood safe and accounted for.

Anger and adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Mav searched for Orric and the vigilante. He wanted answers. No one witnessed Rocman leave the scene or could account for his whereabouts, he just vanished. Senator Orric, on the other hand, crawled out from under the float, where he soon insisted he hid when the fight broke out. The timing seemed suspicious, with Orric and Rocman never in sight at the same time.

Brushing his speculation aside, Mav put his knowledge of first aid to good use, treating minor wounds for his team and other bystanders. He checked on the Azorius women briefly, the father now talking with a Boros sergeant, describing their attackers.

Both ladies confirmed they were unharmed, and Mav moved on to help the healers assisting bystanders harmed in the fray. He knelt down to bandage a bloody knee, sustained when a girl fell fleeing from Rocman’s explosive entry. He gritted his teeth as they now heaped praises on the flashy antics of the vigilante, ignoring the amount of skin the reckless ‘hero’ already cost them.

One of the men under arrest, a tall human man in heavy armor and a cloak, protested with loud and annoyed shouts, drawing Mav’s attention. Happy for an excuse not to listen to the young woman gush over Rocman, he turned his attention to the possible conflict taking shape.

“I work for Senator Orric,” the armored human insisted. Mav studied him with a curious look. The brute looked more like a Syndicate enforcer than an Azorius bodyguard. A greataxe slung across his back, Mav did recall seeing him among the bystanders who joined in. The sergeant interrogating the stranger ordered one of their soldiers to bring Senator Orric over.

“This man says he works for you?” the legionnaire asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Boss,” the brute called, motioning the senator closer. A few whispered words later and the senator nodded, waving the soldiers away.

“Yes, he’s with me,” Orric confirmed, before pulling the man to the side and continuing a hushed conversation with him.

Suspicious. Still, ‘Rocman’ hadn’t stepped afoul of the law yet, no more than any other bystander, and Mav couldn’t prove the masked man and the senator were one and the same. Glancing around, Mav spotted Lilla also watching the whispered exchange with narrow eyes.

Behind him, a throat cleared. Mav turned, and found a reporter looking up with an expectant gaze.

“Celes Coop, with the Tenth District Beacon,” they began, sticking out an intrusive hand. After a reluctant pause Mav shook the offered hand, looking for a new distraction.

“You heroes are going to give me an exclusive interview,” Celes announced, and before Mav could open his mouth to decline, Lilla’s arm slipped through his. She grinned at the reporter.

“Absolutely. I’m Li-, I mean Arven, Initiate Arven. That’s A-R-V-E-N. Did you say heroes?”

She squeezed the dagger slices on his forearm - whether or not she meant to, it stung. He grimaced and extracted his arm, just as Rafiel and Bron ambled over to join them. Rafiel murmured congratulations on a good fight, which Mav returned while Bron and Lilla regaled Celes with a detailed account of their heroism during the attack.

Done checking in with his apparent boss, the greataxe-wielding stranger strolled over too, assessing Mav and Raf with a cackler’s grin. He held out a meaty hand.

“Yarik. Yarik Ismayle,” he introduced. Behind him Celes scribbled in their notepad.

“I’m Bron Hildegarde,” Bron called, not to be outdone. One by one the others introduced themselves, and finally Celes turned to Mav.

“And you are?” they asked, brushing a flop of auburn hair out of their eyes.

Mav gritted his teeth. Behind Celes, Lilla rolled her eyes.

“Maverick Viktorr.”

Celes blinked and speculated for the briefest moment, glancing at his face, then continued writing.

“Now if you’ll all line up please, I’ll snap a holo and be out of your way in a flash!” They smiled at their own pun.

In for a zib, in for a zino. He scowled as the others took up exaggerated, heroic poses in a line around him. Celes looked through the lens on their holo-capture device, smiling with a sense of expectancy.

“Squeeze closer together now,” they directed.