57

Never a Peaceful Moment

There was thunder in the distance. Odd, given that the drizzle hadn’t got any worse and there were no flashes of lightning.

Toulmonde didn’t have time to think about that. She and her men were backed into a corner, surrounded, outnumbered by a margin of ten to one, and their fate hung on the decision of a revolutionary madwoman who hated their very existence.

She always thought she had a knack for negotiation. Then again, it always helped to have an army at her back, and she always made sure it was men she negotiated with, and made sure to wear a shirt with a low enough cut, which to her wasn’t very low at all.

At this moment, her army was quite small, and the person she was negotiating with wasn’t male and didn’t take much interest in her negotiation tactics.

She wished Belfry was here. He was always better at this kind of thing.

They weren’t much good at fighting, but by the gods there were so many of them it didn’t matter.

It felt odd being at this end. She’d lost count of the amount of times they’d lay siege to some fort or settlement, their enemies backed into a corner and their lives at her mercy.

The universe has quite a sense of irony.

It could all end right here. One final push would be enough to wipe out the guild. Yet they didn’t advance. Why? A final moment to gloat, perhaps? Revelling in their assured victory?

Their dear leader Sister Ezria pointed at her with that fresh blade of hers. One with a gaudy basket-hilt of gold and gems inlaid down to the pommel, which itself was also an unreasonably sized gem. Given it was Savanti, the gems were probably fake.

The worst aspect of it all was that the very blade she held, that she pointed at Toulmonde, was also blunt.

The only one of the bunch that actually looked to have been sharpened.

The sheer audacity of it.

She looked around at the mob that could loosely be called an army. Cheers, screams, laughs, even a curse here and there.

‘Well,’ Toulmonde yelled out from behind the shield wall, ‘you’ve got us. So what do you want?’

‘For you to relinquish your weapons, surrender to us, and pay for your crimes against the people...’

Not good.

‘You will assist in the overthrowing of the Starlight Sanctuary, removing the current occupier from the throne, and reinstating it with an overseeing council of carefully selected citizens...’

Even worse.

‘And change the culture of the world to one of absolute equality for all.’

And that’s outright impossible.

The sound of thunder rattled the windows, or the few windows that hadn’t been shattered. Strange how close it sounded to be, given that the rain hadn’t gotten any worse.

It also sounded like it was coming from somewhere inside the fort. Kathiya found that should have been the part she should have focused on first.

Caspar had somehow gotten away from her. Probably because she was following the quickest route to the courtyard, which Caspar went the opposite direction to. Who the hell knows where he’s gotten to.

Gods, there were a lot of them outside. Looks like they had Toulmonde and her mercs backed against the wall.

Things weren’t good before, and they were just getting worse.

Which way did he go? This fort had so many rooms and Caspar had such a poor sense of direction that it could really be any of them. She half expected to find him somewhere on the roof.

She opened the first door she came across, figuring pure luck may end up being her best bet.

And there, sitting in a comfortable, high-backed chair, face illuminated by candlelight, was a familiar robed individual.

‘Oh… Sethel. There you are.’

‘Were you looking for me?’

‘No. It’s just nice that I know you’re still alive.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Oh…’ A brick flew through one of the windows, ‘you know…’

Sethel smiled and settled back into his chair, turning another page. He continued reading for a few moments when he noticed Kathiya was still standing there, as though she was waiting for something.

'Are you still here?'

‘So this is your plan? Wait it out and hope that you’re not torn apart by association?’

‘Best to do nothing, I find. They’ll tire themselves out, eventually. Find a place to sit back and let these events transpire of their own accord.’

‘And if you’re wrong?’

‘I’m never wrong… Except the times I am.’’

‘And if this is one of those times?’

‘Then it won’t really matter, will it?’

‘You have a strange worldview,’ she said with a chuckle.

'Not as strange as yours,' he responded, eyes not leaving the pages of his book.

'What do you mean?'

'By every metric, you should be on the other side of this little revolution. The poor and destitute rising up against the tyrannous oppressors, relinquishing their hoarded wealth and giving it back to those who need it most. That sounds apt for you.'

'Maybe, if they were better directed, had a clearer goal, and less in love with the romanticised idea of a revolution. Right now, they’re far too self absorbed to do anything worthwhile. What's your point?'

'Oh, there's no point.’

‘So where’s this come from?’

‘It's just amusing, the way events play themselves out. That’s all.' There came yelling from a far door, and soon a banging. The banging escalated to the point the wood started to fracture and splinter. 'Ah. It seems my moment of peace is over. You may want to leave.'

'And leave you alone with them?' She nodded her head towards the breaking door.

'This rabble? An entertaining distraction. Don't fret over me. Besides, others are going to need your assistance far more.'

‘Oh! Caspar! Right… Well then, Good luck.’ Kathiya ran back from the direction she came, her careful feet not making a single sound with each footfall.

The door gave in to the whims of those outside it, and crumbled against their combined might.

Sethel sighed and closed his book.

‘Never a peaceful moment, is there?’