Dreamwhisper

Chapter 10

“Order! Order, I say!” repeatedly slamming a cylindrical stone on the hallowed-out arm of his high-back chair, “I, Councilman Curthwrite, second chair of the Holmburg Council, call for order!” he shouted as he looked out over the large gathering that had formed in the coliseum. He wore the customary yellow and white robes of the council. His tall, slender frame sat under the uniform that commanded respect from all who lived in the town he loved. His long blonde hair, tied in a tight bun, was slightly damp from the stress of the last few days despite the calm winds that blew in from the northern mountains.

Nearly a quarter of the settlement showed up to be heard by the council. Every attendee was terrified of the state of the Living District.

For several days, the Baron’s guards had occupied the district, only stating it was a “training exercise.” The full force of the local guard had been deployed to the edges of the blockade to de-escalate the situation. The many times they tried to communicate with the soldiers, they were met with silence. When confronted by an official, the occupying force would not utter a single sound other than those two little words. They would simply hold their positions or outright attack any attempting to enter or leave. Blood ran thick in the streets those first days.

There had been more than a few attempts by the Holmburg Guard to break the lines to no avail. There were too many defenders and not enough force. Riots had broken out in the streets where residents had tried to take up arms to force their way in, but only bodies were left in their wake. Hundreds of people were being held hostage, inside and out, with no demands.

The Baron himself was nowhere to be found. He had not answered any summons from council members nor received those who tried to enter his residence. He had full barricades erected around his entire estate and the Living District, shrouding it in mystery and death. ‘Where did he get all these men with no one noticing?’

Councilman Curthwrite looked out to the eleven others seated in their elevated high-back chairs with a pleading look in his eyes. None made any move to assist. ‘Of course, they won’t help,’ he thought as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, ‘why would they? All any of them care about is holding their position and their greed. They refuse to take any side on the matter even though a fifth of Holmburg proper is under occupation. The people we are sworn to protect die by the dozens, and they sit in silence. The Baron has his fingers in every one of their pockets, doesn’t he?’

He was the newest council member, accepting the task when the last member died suddenly. He had only taken the position one year ago in hopes of breaking the cycle of corruption. He dreamt of helping turn the settlement into the haven it was perceived to be. Few knew of the actual inner workings or what lengths the others had gone to over the years to achieve their personal goals. It was sickening to him.

Councilwoman Letha, sixth chair, finally rose her round and robust form after a long moment. She began to speak using an amplification glyph that caused her curly red hair to bounce with every word, “Listen to me!” The sound of the crowd lowered to a whisper, “We hear your call, and we, the council, seek a quick end to this. We have new information on this matter, and I intend to act swiftly.” She turned and looked to the other council members, “I would like to call a vote. I wish to call on the aid of the Crown and the Church. I have riders standing ready to leave for the capital immediately to request aid in taking down the Baron. I have also invited the leading members of the Church to attend a private meeting to discuss how they might aid us in this matter. With their help, I believe we can bring this travesty to a swift close. All I need is a favorable vote to set my plan in motion. Our people die by the minute, and every moment we hesitate, the more we risk the well-being of our friends, families, and neighbors. We need to act now! What say you?”

The crowd roared with approval.

Councilman Curthwrite leaned back awestruck. ‘For years, she has been the most outspoken with her disdain for the Crown. She regularly used public forums to speak out against their policies and taxes. With these statements alone, she should have been executed for treason, but being how little presence the Crown had in Holmberg, no one lifted a finger. Not only that, but they want to utilize the Church and their fanatics? What game is she playing here?’

Councilman Bigans, eighth chair, stood next, “I second this! I give my full support to Councilwoman Letha in the matter!”

“I, as well!” Came another voice.

“As do I give my full support to the Councilwoman! Bring the vote! Bring the full might of the Crown and the Church!” Said another. It continued until eight of the eleven members were standing. Only three remained seated.

The crowd began to chant, “Bring the vote! Bring the vote! Bring the vote!”

Finally, the first chair of the Council, Elder Councilman Fletcher, moved to rise and speak. The Elder Councilman was the oldest and longest-seated member, and he wore the opposite robes of yellow and white, showing his position as the first chair. His hunched, frail form strained as he attempted to stand fully. Finally, an assistant ran up the steps leading to his seat and helped him. As soon as he stood, he raised a hand and began building a large thunderbolt in his palm. The next moment, it rocketed into the sky, leaving a white and yellow mana trail behind before finally exploding with a thunderous boom that was felt inside the hearts of all who attended. Silence filled the room.

“Councilwoman of the sixth chair, you dare mock this organization? Do you dare make a call to arms in full view of the public without having discussed this “new information” as a unified whole? If you had done so before this meeting, you would have known that I dispatched an emissary three days ago seeking aid from the Crown. If you had cared enough before, you would not have waited for fear and death to be in our streets before acting.” He scolded before turning to the people.

“I have already requested aid from the Crown, and they have returned with word. Be at ease. A full regimen of the first army will arrive within three days to aid us. I assure you all that justice will be swift in our great time of need. Regarding the Church, yes, we will convene in private in one hour to discuss this possibility. However, in the meantime, we will continue to hear the voices of the people and do our utmost to aid those in need. Please step forward in an orderly manner to be heard.” Before returning to his seat, he turned and curtly looked at all the still-standing council members—a silent threat to all those who knew him well.

In the center of the Living District, Baron Hammerfield stood in front of a dirty windowpane on the fourth floor of a repurposed warehouse that looked out over the entire settlement. He wore a brilliant red and gold vest, a white flowing shirt, red trousers, and tall, black traveling boots. A single jewel-encrusted sword with the finest rubies inlaid across the length of the scabbard was the only weapon he had on his belt.

He had converted the building into a makeshift base on the first day they locked down the district. He knew his actions would have repercussions, but he did care. ‘If I complete my goal, there would be little anyone could do against me regardless.’ He assured himself as he looked out in the distance where the Council convened.

“The Council is in complete chaos now; I can feel it. Even without the artifact I can feel the crowd that has formed in the Colosseum. They will have been forced to call on the Crown for aid if they haven’t done so already. We will have a week at most before they arrive. We should be gone long before they do if your information is correct. Tell me again what you found.”

Baron Hammerfield turned from the window and walked to the young man who sat bound to a chair in the corner of the room. One of the guards at his side removed the gag from his mouth, and the other raised his head by the scalp. Blood ran from his broken gums and missing teeth. One eye was completely swollen shut, bruises covering his face and the majority of his naked form. Niles’ one good eye fluttered open with the jolt, and he looked at the man kneeling before him. The same man that had saved him all those years ago.

“I have told you, the cart merchant woman told me she watched the man matching his description perfectly walk into the district just as they shut it down. It was the same place Captain Dorcy killed the man. I confirmed many times that she had been seen selling there the entire morning. It was him. Please release me, sir. I have done all that you ask and more for years. I do not deserve this,” Niles whimpered as he pleaded.

“You’ve done all you can? Then where is my artifact!” The Baron backhanded the boy, sending a spray of blood across the guard at his right. He stood and walked to the table where another man dressed in black was standing.

“He’s telling the truth, boss. I’ve confirmed it; the woman saw our man enter the district right as we shut it down.” Trevor, the Hand said as he tossed a piece of fruit in his mouth. “I want him as much as you do for whatever he did to my cousin, but treating the boy like that is uncalled for.”

Baron Hammerfield stopped and looked at Trevor. He had been his right hand for nearly twenty years, which was how he gained his name. He was the only man on the continent he trusted, and when he told him information to be fact, it was fact.

He straightened his elegant red and gold vest before he continued, “You’re right, my old friend,” he said with a newly found smile. “The boy doesn’t deserve this. Stand him up and remove his binds.”

The guards cut the rope and pulled Niles to his feet as the Baron walked over.

“Thank you, sir. I knew you would see the truth,” rubbing his chest and mouth.

The next moment, the Baron rammed a dagger he kept hidden in his sleeve straight into his throat. Niles gasped for air as blood gurgled around the knife protruding from his airway. He reached up to hold the wound, but the Baron slapped his hands away and shoved him to the ground.

Baron Hammerfield leaned over and whispered, “I should have let that group I hired finish the job before I slaughtered them. At the time, I assumed that having a victim survive to tell of my heroic deeds would aid my rise. Instead, weakness and failure were too ingrained in you from your miserable family, and you have failed me as I always suspected you would. No, my boy, this is exactly what you deserve.”

Seconds later, he went still.

Baron Hammerfield spun around and shouted, “Search again! Search it all again, and do not return until you’ve found the noble and my artifact!”

Trevor stood in shock as, for a brief moment, he would have sworn his oldest friend and employer’s face had morphed into some demonic creatures before returning to normal. “Boss!” he said with a slight bow before turning and walking out.

‘Must have been a trick of the shadows,’ he thought.