50

Not a Riot

‘What the fuck happened here?’

‘It was a riot, wasn’t it? Isn’t this what rioters do?’

‘Not Savantian rioters. Normally, they turn up, bang some drums, yell some pre-approved chants, break a window or two, and beat up people on their own side. This...’ Toulmonde looked over the street before her. ‘This isn’t normal.’

All appeared true to Ludgar. From the demonstration that happened a few nights ago, the most that happened was a whole lot of litter and a single looted store. All happened deep in the slums as well, so there wasn’t much of a change and no one really cared.

The first problem was that this wasn’t in the slums. This was right in the centre of Savanti, directly beside the bank that was built in the shape of a crystal horse's head.

The second problem was the level of devastation. Entire shops had their windows broken into, and their contents spilled out, like the guts of the disembowelled strewn across the ground. Cracks and scorches marked the golden tiles that paved the way to the city centre, and several buildings were replaced by the hollow facsimile of their burned out remains.

Their crystal outer structure, now a slumped mass of their molten corpse.

The third problem was the bodies. As far as anyone was concerned, the previous riots produced no deaths. There certainly were injuries and a few bumps and bruises. Nothing all too serious if your experience with pain is more than a broken, manicured nail, or a pulled muscle from acting too hard.

Guild mercs had been brought back to the keep by the cartload, revolutionaries lay slumped or clutching their wounds. Some were not moving.

It looked less like the sight of a protest, and more of the sight of a battle.

Ludgar and Toulmonde never thought that it would grow to this level. When they heard another demonstration was taking place, they thought it best to simply ride it out and gather more information. Perhaps that had been the wrong decision.

Ludgar huffed, pulled up his collar against the chilling night air, and said, ‘I guess you were right. They really were gearing up for something big. Didn’t imagine anything like this.’

The black robed blob of Sethel slithered his way around the carnage, poking at the misshapen forms of the glass buildings, no doubt wondering if the fires were magical in nature or not and if they tasted salty.

Their attention was brought to the clunky sounds of a troop of guards approaching and protecting a familiar swan dressed in a high-collared coat, but haphazardly dressed, with buttons askew and wig on probably backwards, as though he was only woken recently.

Alamdis looked around the carnage with the quiet shock of someone who had never seen any form of real, physical, violent conflict before.

‘By the gods, what happened here?’ he said.

‘That’s what we’re trying to figure out,’ Toulmonde answered.

‘Well, I’ve been here a whole minute and I believe I’ve figured it out already. You two have fucked up. You!’ He pointed an alabaster feathered finger at Ludgar. ‘I thought you had things under control!’

‘Well,’ Ludgar interjected, ’you have to let things get a little out of control to get them back in control. This is all according to plan.’

‘It is?’

‘It is?’ Toulmonde whispered afterwards.

‘No,’ he whispered back. ‘We just need to make him think it is.’

‘I can still hear you two, you know.’

‘Look, we need time to investigate to see what exactly happened.’

‘I don’t care how it happened! I just don’t want it to happen again! This isn’t what I’ve paid you for!’

‘You haven’t paid me at all!’

‘I... Ugh.’ He put an ivory feathered hand to his temple, rubbing at it in the vain hope of alleviating some pain. ’This yelling and all this blood is too much for me. I need to lie down.’

With a dismissive hand gesture and a dramatic flick of his coat, he turned and walked away, guards following close behind.

Toulmonde released an angered sigh and kicked along a broken clock from a nearby antiques store. ‘Last thing I wanted was him getting involved. Still, he’s not wrong. This shit has gotten far worse than I was expecting. Far, far worse than it should have been.’

‘“Should have been?”’ Ludgar asked.

Before he had a chance to question further, a commotion occurred behind them.

‘We found one, boss!’ A couple of guild mercs dragged one revolutionary along by his armpits, feet scraping along the ground. ‘Found him climbing down from the side of the Starlight Sanctuary. Probably trying to break in. No idea how he got up there.’

The revolutionary wasn’t tall as far as most go, so the mercs didn’t have to hold him very high.

He was also orange and had a fluffy tail.

‘Oh! Caspar!’ Ludgar said in surprise. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘Hey boss,’ he responded in quite a jovial way for the state he was in, if not sounding a little exhausted and defeated.

‘You know this one?’ Toulmonde asked.

‘Yeah. He’s one of my inside men. Where’s Kathiya?’

‘You know. Around.’

‘Here boss!’ The voice came from behind. They turned to find her relaxed and laying sideways across a tall wall. ‘You get my note?’

‘I did. Very helpful, even if it doesn’t help much with our current job.’

‘Typical.’ She dropped from the wall, landing on the broken gold tiles without so much sound as the lightest of scuffles.

‘You still want us to detain him?’ the two mercs detaining Caspar asked.

It took Ludgar way longer than he should have to make a decision, deliberating over the answer with such exaggeration it would give most Savantian actors pause.

‘Ludgar!’ Kathiya shouted, slapping him upside the head.

‘Ow ow ow! Okay, okay! Let him go.’

The mercs didn’t. Instead, they looked to Toulmonde, who nodded her head, gave a small gesture with her hands, then they dropped Caspar and unlocked his shackles.

‘What happened here?’ Toulmonde asked.

Caspar rubbed at the marks made by the shackles and began telling them of the demonstration.

It started like the other demonstration, in the slums. All noise, pride, and posturing. Nothing concerning at first. At some point, the group just gradually made its way to the centre of the city, finding confidence in the larger numbers as more and more gathered into the throng, some with genuine anger and reasons to shout, others in support of their brothers and sisters, and a few thinking it was a parade and getting confused.

To Caspar, something felt off. There were more people in big, dark robes than before. He didn’t understand Savanti fashion, so he didn’t think much of it. With every passing moment they swept in, only gradually at first, then their numbers seemed to swell, and soon there were at least one of these robed people for every five normal revolutionaries.

They were not chanting. They were not dancing. There was no singing, no talking, or even noise of any kind.

They were not even moving.

They stood like dark obelisks among the rabble, as they danced and twirled and sang and screamed between each figure as though they weren’t even there. As though unmoving, robed people were something you just ignored like a lamppost.

On the outskirts of the crowd, guild mercs began to gather. Some seemed amused by the demonstration, others worried and rested their hands upon their weapons, just in case. There were shouts. There was yelling. Names were called, lines were formed, some protestors even spat at them.

Either way, things were thrown by both sides, and nothing burns fear away like good, old-fashioned rage.

It wouldn’t have been such a concern for the mercs. Even with the number of revolutionaries, they had no idea how to fight, and their multicoloured, patchwork ensemble wouldn’t protect them well against a black, or a good whack with a shield, or even a decent enough punch.

That was when the robed figures began to move. They pulled objects from their robes that flashed in the light of the surrounding fires.

Short blades and maces. Things that could easily be hidden beneath clothing. They walked between revolutionaries, handing the weapons out. At first, they seemed confused, but as tensions escalated, they were far more willing to take them. A few even took them with outright glee.

The shouting grew harder. The mercs became less confident, and the revolutionaries became so much more. A few ran in, kicking at their shields. Naturally the mercs hit back, and that’s when everything spiralled out of control.

Caspar thought the last demonstration was chaos. This one turned into an abject nightmare.

He saw spears pierce their way through revolutionaries, people trampled in the chaotic tide of the crowd, maces crushed the face of several guards.

An elbow came out of somewhere, catching him in the side of the face, throwing onto the ground. Feet trampled over him, kicking at him. He curled up, arms protecting his head and legs protecting his body.

A noise came out, like a scream or a screech. The kicking stopped. Sharp, dagger-like claws gripped him by the arms, and began to pull. They pulled till he was on his feet, then kept pulling. They pulled till his feet no longer touched the ground and kept going higher and higher.

He wanted to see but couldn’t. Blood stung his eyes. His arms held apart by the powerful claws.

They dropped him.

His breath caught in his mouth, and he fell. How high up was he? He didn’t know. Was this it? Was he about to go out in a confusing mess where nobody had any clue as to what was happening?

Less than half a second later, he was lying on the ground, the chill of a harsh wind surrounding him.

In a panic, he felt around. His hand went out to the floor to the left, and he touched nothing and very nearly tumbled.

With his sleeved, he wiped the blood from his eyes to find what part of the ground he was dropped at.

No, not ground. A ledge, high above the riot below, where the shouts and screams were carried along by the heavy, high wind.

He looked around for the one who brought him there. Nothing but the crystal spires and an overcast night sky.

He walked to the edge and looked down, watching the battle unfurl below, seeing the rising glow of the fires and smoke.

So many questions. So few answers. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Who hit him? Why? Who brought him here? But there was one that took precedent above all others.

‘How the hell do I get down?’

‘And that’s how I ended up here.’

‘Quite an adventure for one night. You feeling okay?’

‘My face is throbbing a little, but I’m fine.’

‘Good lad,’ and Ludgar put a reassuring and appreciative hand on Caspar’s shoulder.

Caspar smiled. Might have been the first time he smiled in days.

Toulmonde turned to Sethel, who was currently messing with the broken head of one of the maces given to the revolutionaries. ‘What do you think? Some kind of magic that manipulates emotions?’

‘Possible, but unlikely. There are a variety of spells which do such to an individual. Rage, Frenzy, Resentment, Despise, Mild Irritation. But such spells only work on beasts and the most simple of minds.’

‘The average Savantian, then?’

‘Unfortunately, as amusing as your joke is, they’re not that simple. I think what we have is far more dangerous than simple magic.’

‘What’s that then?’

‘The nature of people, or more specifically, crowds. You see, when crowds gather and swell in stature, the general confidence rises as their general intelligence falls. This allows them to do all sorts of idiotic things and be blind to the consequence. The average intelligence falls to the crowd’s lowest common denominator.’

‘So, what does that mean?’ asked Caspar.

‘Stupid people make smarter people stupid by proximity. Then they do stupid things because everyone else is and they think they can get away with it.’

‘You know,’ said Ludgar, idle finger scratching at his cheek, ‘I think it’s about time we started taking this seriously. Before this shit really gets out of hand.’

Toulmonde took the centre and the lead, breaking the situation down as best she could. ‘Let’s look at this situation in its entirety. We have a strange revolution with people who have never even thrown a punch before, an ungodly amount of money being donated by some obvious players and less obvious third parties, an assassination attempt, and some strange, robed people turning an ordinarily mild protest into an absolute bloodbath.’

‘It’s never simple in Savanti, is it?’ said Ludgar.

‘Wouldn’t be Savanti if it wasn’t.’

‘And what do we believe is the unified consensus on which faction this robed individual belongs to?’ said Sethel.

‘Is it Phaos?’ asked Kathiya.

‘I bet it’s Phaos,’ added Caspar.

‘It’s usually Phaos.’

‘It’s pretty much always fucking Phaos,’ grumbled Ludgar.

‘Wait, which Phaos?’ asked Toulmonde. ‘The religion, the god, or the country?’

‘... Yes,’ said Sethel.

‘Helpful. Thanks.’

‘Shouldn’t we tell Sister Ezria?’ Caspar asked.

‘Sister?’ Toulmonde directed the question at Kathiya.

‘That’s what they call themselves. Tries to show that all are equal and none are above any other.’

‘So why should we tell her?’

‘She has agents with certain agendas working for her. Surely she needs to know something like that.’ Caspar pleaded with the group, but started to get the feeling that the pleas were falling on deaf ears.

Toulmonde sighed and leaned back against a wall of a burnt out shop. ‘What do you think she’s going to do? As far as I’ve seen, most revolutions accept all the help they can get. Their motives don’t really matter. Questioning it generally leads to problems.’

‘She still needs to know. We can prevent something like this from happening again.’

‘You think she cares about that? You think any of these great revolutionary leaders care for the motives of their followers? Ha. Revolutionary leaders are just politicians who aren’t savvy enough to change things from within. They rely on numbers alone to subjugate people to their way of thinking. You think Ezria is looking out for you? For her followers? For the common working man? There’s only one thing she looks out for, and that’s her ideology and herself.’

‘That’s two things,’ Ludgar corrected.

‘They’re basically one in the same,’ Sethel double-corrected.

‘No. You’re lying. You’re the enemy. Of course you don’t believe her. Not like me and Kathiya.’ Caspar turned to look at Kathiya, who did her best to avoid his eye. ‘You believe her, right Kathiya?’

‘I...’ She struggled. She had the answer, and she was willing to say it, but the look on Caspars face was one that left her uncomfortable. Such earnestness. It’s not good for a merc. It had to be ground out, burned away, cut free.

‘I did. Maybe. Just a little. More out of hope than out of belief. But I’ve seen what she’s like beyond the honeyed speeches and grand ideals. She’s no different than the people she fights, whether or not she knows it.’

‘You’re wrong. She’s trying to do what’s best.’

‘That’s what they all say,’ Ludgar added, ‘and will keep saying as they drain you of all your money, energy, and blood. Trust me. I’ve seen this hundreds of times, and I’m willing to bet I’ll see it a hundred more.’

‘No! That’s not true! You don’t know her like I do!’

Kathiya stepped towards him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘What about the money? How much of it have you seen?’

‘Well… None, but she has to change the whole system first… Right?’

‘I’ve seen where the money went, and I doubt she’s going to sell off that fancy upper class manor once she’s planted herself and her cohorts in the Starlight Sanctuary. It was never about redistributing money. Just centralising it. There was never any intention of the money going to people like us.’

‘That’s not true! You’re wrong. She just needs it to… fund us. Wait. Then why are we the ones giving donations?’

‘I think you know why.’ The words came in a dejected sigh. There’s a goodness in him, a kind of goodness that gets taken advantage of. The kind of goodness that can turn evil if pushed a certain way. If he didn’t find out this now, who knows what people could do to him.

‘No.. She just… Gods.’ Caspar held his head in his hands. Pieces were falling into place, and the picture they made wasn’t a good one. He lifted his head and looked Ludgar in the eye. ‘I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I?’

‘That’s okay,’ Toulmonde said, breaking her silence. ‘You’re not the only one.’

In a way, maybe he always knew. Somewhere, deep down, he could see things weren’t adding up correctly. For people who claimed to be on the side of good, they were doing some bad stuff.

Would it be worth it in the end? Who’s to say? Yet in his heart, he knew it wasn’t right. He was just waiting for his heart to catch up.

It’s not that he believed. He just wanted to believe.