Interlude III
"Stand back, I said!" the watchman yelled at the crowd, his face turning red. He was a middle-aged fellow who really should have been a sargeant by now, save that his temper sometimes got the better of him. "Stand back or I'll crack a few heads!" His billy club was already out as he said this, and the watchmen behind him looked at each other.
It worked though, for the milling crowd backed up, though still staring at the men being tended to by the healers. The watchman turned around to see Kegga's wife crying softly while staring at the manhole, leaning on Scowlen for support.
"Why are these civillians still here?" grumbled the middle-aged watchman, putting his billy club back in his belt, next to his sword.
"Because I allow them to be here," said the Captain, resplendent in his shiny breatplate. "Now watch your tongue." The captain was 15 years younger than the man that he addressed, but seemed older. Perhaps that was because he spent 10 years on the front with Thrane during the war and lived to tell about it.
A runner came up and saluted. "Captain Tennyson, sir!"
"At ease," the watch captain told the youth. "What is it?"
"Coach coming, Captain," the teenager in the livery said. "House Deneith recruitment manager, Davvett, d'Deneith, he's eager to speak with you."
"Joy," muttered the captain. "Alright then, head off to the Duke's residence and see when he's expected to arrive in the city, then report back." The boy nodded and took off. The Dragonmarked are coming. Whoopt-doo, let's all drop what we're doing and bat our &^%#ing eyelids.
"Did he say a bearer of the Mark of Sentinel would be here, captain?" asked one of the watchmen.
"Hold your tongues, boys, and mind that crowd," the captain barked, walking over to Scowlen. Hopefully the pair that Scowlen had told him about would be up out of those filthy sewers soon, and mister magical tatoo on his skinn would have to turn around and go home.
It worked though, for the milling crowd backed up, though still staring at the men being tended to by the healers. The watchman turned around to see Kegga's wife crying softly while staring at the manhole, leaning on Scowlen for support.
"Why are these civillians still here?" grumbled the middle-aged watchman, putting his billy club back in his belt, next to his sword.
"Because I allow them to be here," said the Captain, resplendent in his shiny breatplate. "Now watch your tongue." The captain was 15 years younger than the man that he addressed, but seemed older. Perhaps that was because he spent 10 years on the front with Thrane during the war and lived to tell about it.
A runner came up and saluted. "Captain Tennyson, sir!"
"At ease," the watch captain told the youth. "What is it?"
"Coach coming, Captain," the teenager in the livery said. "House Deneith recruitment manager, Davvett, d'Deneith, he's eager to speak with you."
"Joy," muttered the captain. "Alright then, head off to the Duke's residence and see when he's expected to arrive in the city, then report back." The boy nodded and took off. The Dragonmarked are coming. Whoopt-doo, let's all drop what we're doing and bat our &^%#ing eyelids.
"Did he say a bearer of the Mark of Sentinel would be here, captain?" asked one of the watchmen.
"Hold your tongues, boys, and mind that crowd," the captain barked, walking over to Scowlen. Hopefully the pair that Scowlen had told him about would be up out of those filthy sewers soon, and mister magical tatoo on his skinn would have to turn around and go home.
posted by Charles
| 7:10 PM
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