58

It All Falls Apart

‘There are two ways this can go, merc.’ The revolutionaries cheered around their leader. It was strange, seeing the most effete and inactive of society turn to be so bloodthirsty. Toulmonde guessed that anything was permissible in service of what was assumed to be a greater cause. She’d know. All her life, she believed money to be the greatest cause of all. ‘Throw down your weapons and surrender yourself, and we may grant you a painless execution.’ She pointed down with her blade, fingers maintaining a strained grip that showed she had never held a blade before in her life. ‘Maybe if you swear fealty to my cause and donate all your possessions, we may even allow you to join the right side of history.’

As far as Toulmonde knew, the right side of history was never given to those who are in the moral right. It only ever seemed to go to those who actually win, and at this point, it looked to be that was not her side.

Such a diverse bunch of people, all with such diverse ideas on how everything should work. All together not because they share the same beliefs, but because they believe they share the same enemy. That kind of alliance never tends to last long, especially once their enemy has been dealt with and they have to decide what comes after.

Diversity tends to be divisive. It’s in the name. It divides.

She had no idea what Ludgar was planning, or how long he would be, but these idiots aren’t going to do much if their motivation there in the form of those strange, masked men was not there to keep pushing them on. She just had to hold out long enough for him to sort them out.

She had an idea.

Was it this way? He was sure it was, even if he had said that about the last three dead ends he walked down. No, this had to be it and…

Another dead end.

How many halls did this place have?

By the gods, everyone was down there fighting without him. Toulmonde, Sister Ezria, fighting each other. He knew it would come to this, not just because Sister Ezria kept talking about it. It was… What was that word Sethel kept using? In… table.. Something? In evil table? No.

Inevitable. Yeah, that was it.

One desired change, the other desired the status quo. It was inevitable that they would clash. So where was he running to? What was he trying to accomplish?

They were both good people, just lost in themselves and this thing they built around themselves. If he could find a way there, maybe he could stop this before something happens to them.

Ezria may be a little warped by her ideology, and Toulmonde a little by her business, but if they stopped and… did something?

He didn’t know. He didn’t even know why he was running there; why he had to stop them. He just felt like he had to. They didn’t need to do this. There are other ways. How can so much destruction possibly build anything new, and how can making as much money as possible provide stability?

Both had issues, and maybe together they can work through it.

It was just getting them to see it.

Except he didn’t know how. He didn’t even know how to find them.

He turned back and went down another hall. Where the hell was everyone? Sethel, Kathiya, Ludgar. Everyone seemed to have vanished. He hoped they were okay.

He took another turn and bolted down a hall.

Was this one the right door? Gods, he hoped it was.

Toulmonde threw her blade down, and the other mercs looked to her. She gave them a single, solemn nod, and they threw their weapons and shields down too.

Cheers. A sudden explosion of cheers.

They did it. The revolution had won, as far as they were concerned.

Ezria stepped down from the wagon, calming the crowd with a gesture.

‘Calm down my brothers and sisters! Let us hear what this symbol of our oppression has to say.’ That garnered a few laughs. ‘Maybe they will repent for their many crimes.’

‘Very well.’ Toulmonde announced with as much dignity as a defeated enemy could muster. ‘You’ve won. We won’t resist any further.’

A great cheer. Greater than all the others.

A cheer of victory.

At least, a perceived one, anyway, but how were they to know any better? They had never seen war. They didn’t know that it is only ever truly over when one side is dead, or both.

‘Kill them!’ one screamed.

‘Hang them!’ from another.

Ezria relished each moment, presiding over them as their judge, their jury, and their executioner.

‘You property now belongs to the revolution. Your arms and estates are now the belongings of The People.’

There was only one idea left, and it hinged on Ezria being more prideful than she should be.

Toulmonde took a deep breath and posed the question.

‘May I have one final word before I am to be given my fate?’

‘Very well,’ answered an amused Ezria, revelling in her newfound power.

‘And our coin, I take it, you'll be appropriating it all?’ It wasn’t just being quick with a blade that solidified her as the head of the mercs guild. It was being quick with her wits too. Ezria had quite the pride in her accomplishment, and, no doubt, all the money spent on it. The problem was that it wasn’t her money; it was everyone else's, including the people around her. Once they see they wouldn’t be getting it back, then they’ll really see how unifying their cause is.

‘We will ensure it goes to the future war effort. To liberate the rest of Artella.’

‘But you said it goes to the people.’

‘I am the people.’ Those around her didn’t look as amused as she did. In fact, they looked confused. So focused on winning the conversation, she didn’t realise how it made her look to the people around her. Like a general so focus on a battle forgetting how it will affect the war.

‘I always thought that all wealth should be given back to the people.’

‘Well…’ Her voice wavered as a wave of murmurs came over the mob. ‘We will. Just once we have freed the rest of the continent.’

‘And how long will that take?’

‘As long as it needs to.’

And there’s the rub. She had them now.

‘You’re not redistributing the wealth,’ Toulmonde accused. ‘You’re just making sure it all goes to you. Think about it. How much money has been given to this revolution?’

‘More than you can imagine,’ she claimed with a smug grin, revealing her overgrown incisors.

‘And how much have any of you seen of it?’ This time, Toulmonde directed the question at those around her.

This caught the mob off guard. Their murmurs grew louder, a few even yelled some things.

‘I donated all my coin for this!’ one yelled out.

‘Where’s our money?’ came another.

‘It’s-’ Ezria began.

‘All gone to her fancy house up in the hills!’ Toulmonde interrupted. ‘The biggest one there. Hoarding all your money like those you claim to be against!’

Thank the gods for that thief’s report.

‘Silence!’ Ezria’s shrill voice cut above the muttering of the crowd, only this time, her command wasn’t heeded nearly as well as it had been.

‘Fucking liar!’

‘I knew I should never have trusted someone from Granther!’

‘Can’t believe I was tricked again.’

‘Fuck this. I’m going home.’

A sizable portion of the mob began to disperse, leaving only a fraction of the force it had once been. Much more manageable, but still far from enough.

Funny that. You can hold to whatever value, ideology, or principle you like, if money is involved—or lack thereof—it usually falls apart.

Ezria screamed at them to return, first in confusion, then in rage till she realised they were not coming back. Those that remained looked far less secure in their position, both physically and ideologically.

‘You think I need them?’ she said to Toulmonde, with a hiss. ‘They were nothing! We still have the numbers! Your Guild is tired and broken.’ She turned her attention to the shadows that stood below her. ‘Shut her up! Finish them!’

The shadow stood motionless, staring off into the distance.

‘What are you doing? Stop standing there and finish them! We had a deal!’

The shadow did not respond.

'Are you listening to me?' Ezria stormed up to the robed figure. She prodded at it with an accusatory finger.

After the lightest of touches, it fell away into mist.

Others in the crowd followed suit, falling into their own dark clouds that lingered on for only a few moments.

Ezria stared at lingering wisps, face contorted into a mixture of confusion and rage. Toulmonde smiled.

Ludgar did it, she figured. Somehow, he had managed to do it.

‘No no no! This is all wrong!’ Ezria screamed at the shadows. ‘We won! Why is this happening? Why? Why? Why?’ she continued screaming at her rapidly shrinking force. ‘We’re in the right! We should be on top! We should be in that Sanctuary! There is no way we should lose!’

‘Do you genuinely believe the shit that falls from your mouth?’ Toulmonde shouted in defiance. ‘You talk a big game about revolution and fighting, but what do you know of war? Did you really believe that greater numbers would score you victory?’

‘Shut up!’ Ezria shot back. ‘What right do you have to grandstand over me? I’ve put blood, sweat, and coin into this revolution to free us from the tyranny of oppression! You’re just a merc. You only fight for your own wealth. What right do you have to criticise me?’

‘I know what I am. I’m not pretending to be anything else. I can just call traullshit when I see it. You said you’ve put blood, sweat, and coin into this? Whose? Your enemies' blood? Your allies sweat? Your friend's coin? Have you put in any of that yourself? Don’t make grand comments about what it’s cost you. It’s easy to make sacrifices when everyone’s doing it for you.’

‘Shut up! You’re wrong! I don’t care to argue this with a merc.’

‘Or anyone, by the sounds of it.’

‘Fuck you!’ She shifted her rage to the fraction of a force she once possessed. ‘Ready your weapons! We can still win this!’

The few mercs remaining picked their weapons back up. The last few of Ezria’s loyalists took an uneasy step forward.

But still, no charge was made. No one made the first move.

‘Why aren’t they attacking?’ Ezria barked at Gorsen, who made no effort to join in.

‘It’s not easy when you’ve lost eighty percent of your force, and the shadows pushing you from behind.’ Their mob mentality had fallen apart, and all that remained were the scared individuals who suddenly found themselves in way over their heads.

Ezria could be scary when things didn’t go her way, but a spear in your face was scarier still.

‘Wait!’ came a call from somewhere beyond both forces. Someone jumped between the two. Short, with orange fur, and a thick, bushy tail. He stood between the two forces, arms out as though he alone could hold back the two. And, in a moment of confusion as to which side this stranger belonged to, it worked.

The two forces stopped, unsure what action to take next, or maybe looking for an excuse not to.

‘That boy... I recognise him. Is he one of ours? Gorsen, what was his name again?’

‘Caspar,’ Toulmonde answered instead.