The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 5, Chapter 18

The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 5, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Looks like the coast is clear...

When the column of armsmen marched into the city, Neia went into hiding, thinking that they had been sent after her. The column went right through without stopping, however, and she had later learned that it was only one of many coming into the city on some errand elsewhere.

Saye asked around about them, but no one seemed to know what they were up to. As far as Neia could tell, Hoburns remained unchanged from its presently miserable state and the only thing that might be considered a ‘disturbance’ by the Nobles was her.

The whole incident – or, rather, her actions in response to it – made her burn with shame. Not long before, she was struggling against an unlawful arrest, claiming loudly that she had done nothing wrong. Then, when the column appeared, she went and hid as if she was guilty of something.

Was her conviction so weak? Was she ashamed of the Path of Justice? What sort of example was she setting for the thousands of people who had come to hear her speak?

Slowly, but surely, anger replaced shame. There was anger at the Nobles who thought they could do whatever they wished but, more importantly, she was angry at herself. Millions of people were hungry for the Sorcerer King’s wisdom, yet she had allowed herself to become wrapped up in selfish, petty concerns.

Neia’s hand came up to adjust her new mirrorshades. They were, of course, a pale imitation of what the Sorcerer King had lent to her during the war, but they were still better than anything she had since then.

“Are you sure you can see properly in those?” Saye asked.

“They’re fine,” Neia answered. “I don’t have to move around much when I’m speaking, anyway.”

In truth, they made it difficult to see in poor lighting. The glass of the mirrorshades had been hastily made from finery slag, so it was only a bit better than looking through a wine bottle. That wasn’t a very pressing concern, however, and a better version could be commissioned in time.

“Are you going to speak?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Neia replied. “It looks like we have a good opportunity to do stuff with the Nobles busy elsewhere.”

The columns had left quite a bit of excitement in their wake and the citizens of Hoburns were out and about, alert for new developments while gossiping amongst themselves. The volunteers from the Corps had fixed up the platform in the square, so the stage seemed set to address the people.

When she mounted the platform, few were looking in her direction. However, it didn’t take long for her voice to capture the attention of everyone in the plaza.

“You have witnessed it for yourselves,” she told them. “Felt it keenly in your bones. And, as you have seen, even I am not immune. It is the terrible, terrible consequence of being raised in a society that embraces the sin that is weakness. We are expected to accept our lot in life. We shy away at the tread of booted feet. We lower our heads at the ‘authority’ of men who just happen to have been born into positions of privilege. You must ask yourselves, my friends: is this just?

“Is it just to have the fruit of your labour arbitrarily stolen away? Is it just to have your labour denied to you entirely? To helplessly watch your families starve and waste away at the cold stroke of a pen? To be robbed of the right to take control of your lives because those in power threaten your lives with what they assert is their right to enact violence?”

“No! No, it’s not right!” Someone cried.

“Hoburns is dying because of those damn Nobles!”

“What makes them so damn special? Who gave them the right to decide what we’re worth?”

“Who gave them the power of life and death over us?!”

Angry shouts rose from the crowd, echoing off of the nearby buildings. The sentiment rapidly spread, and Neia raised her hand to call for silence.

“This is why weakness is a sin,” Neia told them. “It is a seed sown deep within us, and we are oblivious to its choking tendrils spreading throughout our beings. It is only when injustice comes to reap its harvest of suffering and sorrow that we realise how powerless we truly are. Weakness is why we are forced to endure this cycle of injustice!”

“But what can we do?” Someone asked, “We’re all weak – sinners!”

“Just because you are,” Neia said, “doesn’t mean you must be. Cast aside your sin and work hard to cultivate strength! For it is only through strength that we can achieve true justice!”

As she continued to speak and answer questions from the crowd, more and more people appeared from the surrounding neighbourhoods to listen. With them, however, also came the armsmen from the local street patrols. As before, they didn’t immediately act upon seeing what was happening, instead watching from the fringes of the plaza in their eerie way.

Uwah, so creepy. But it would be nice if they joined us too...

Neia knew that the chances of that were slim to none. When she spoke along the northern coast, the conservative forces sent to police the liberated towns only regarded her as a curiosity when she addressed the public. The royalists, as proven by earlier events, were just looking for excuses to act against her and her followers.

But they had no right to do so unless they broke the law, for they were bound to the same thing that gave them power. Thus, she paid them no mind, choosing to focus on the people who actually needed her help.

After about an hour of speaking, Neia stepped off of the platform for a short break. A volunteer brought her a flask of cool water, and she nodded in thanks before soothing her overworked throat.

“There are a lot of armsmen out there,” Saye said as she emerged from the shadows.

“I saw,” Neia replied. “But they haven’t done anything.”

“That might be because more and more people keep showing up,” the Bard told her. “There must be five thousand citizens in the plaza right now.”

“They’ll probably tell everyone to go to bed once it gets late enough,” Neia said. “I doubt they’ll try anything funny so soon after Lord Whatshisface failed to drag me off.”

“Or they might try something different,” Saye said.

Neia set down her half-emptied flask on the platform stairs.

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of different houses are present,” Saye told her. “They didn’t just bring street patrols either. There are Rogues all over the place.”

Her eyes went involuntarily to the nearby rooftops.

“Rogues?” Neia said in a low voice, “Does...does that mean the Smiling Demon is here, too?”

“I saw House Restelo’s armsmen in the mix, so probably.”

Had they come to assassinate her? The possibility was high. House Restelo hired an assassin precisely because they assassinated people.

She was done fearing for her own life, however. If one looked at things from another angle, they were presenting an opportunity for her to get revenge for Mister Lousa. The Smiling Demon didn’t seem to notice her when she was tailing him the other day, so she thought her chances of sniping him were pretty good. There wouldn’t be any jealous women to interfere with her this time either...probably.

“Where are House Restelo’s men gathered?” Neia asked.

“In the corner of the plaza west of us. Why?”

That was close. Only fifty metres away.

“This might be our chance to get rid of that Assassin,” Neia fished her bow and quiver out from under the platform steps. “We can’t allow him to carry out any more of his evil deeds!”

Neia rushed off along the edge of the plaza, scanning the rooftops as she made her way west. Halfway to the corner, Saye pointed to the eaves overhanging a nearby shop.

“There he is!”

Neia wasn’t the only one who heard the Bard’s fearful cry. Hundreds of heads turned upwards and shouts of panic rose from nearby.

“It’s him!”

“The Smiling Demon!”

“The Nobles sent a killer!”

“May the gods preserve us!”

The panic served as a perfect distraction. Her hateful nemesis and his evil allies scanned the hysterical crowd, oblivious to the threat that Neia represented. She nocked a broadhead arrow and drew its fletchings to her cheek, focusing on her target.

Cheers of jubilation rose as the man staggered, clutching the arrow buried in his gut. No matter how good his equipment might have been, her ability to imbue arrows made them fly unerringly to their target.

“You got him!” Saye said, “No, wait – he’s still moving! Get him again!”

Neia unleashed another broadhead. This time, however, it seemed to vanish just as it reached its mark. Her mouth fell open in horror as an inky blot expanded from the point of impact, manifesting into an unmistakably fiendish form. The crowd collectively gasped at the sight.

“Demon!”

“Faceless One, show yourself!”

Neia hopped off of the stage, her mind racing to figure a way out for her people. The voice sounded again, this time more demanding and aggressive.

“Faceless One, you are charged with conspiracy against the Holy Queen, Carlota, and the Holy Kingdom! Come forward and answer for your transgressions!”

‘Queen Carlota’ probably doesn’t even know she’s the Holy Queen, yet!

If Neia recalled correctly, Carlota was two or three years old. Who would conspire against a two-year-old? Saying so was meaningless, however. The Nobles were in full ‘authority mode’ and fully expected to get what they wanted.

“I ain’t heard of no Holy Queen Carlota before!” Someone said.

“Yeah! The Temples said nothing about that!”

“What happened to the Holy King? What’d you go and do to him?”

“Caspond was unsuited for the office. He was replaced.”

Oh, that was probably a mistake.

“But the Holy King’s the chosen of the gods...”

“Yeah! The gods don’t change their minds every other day.”

“Why are you telling us this? Shouldn’t it be a Priest?”

“Bring us a Priest!”

Countless questions and demands pelted the armsmen, regardless of whether they were the original speaker or not. The armsmen became flustered by the awkward situation, but the lordling leading them would have none of it.

“Enough! This is your last chance to show yourself, Faceless One! Don’t force us to flush you out of hiding...”

Neia bit her lip in frustration. They were in no shape to fight retinues girded for battle and there would be countless injuries if they forced their way into the packed plaza to search for her.

The nobleman raised his arm.

“Alright, sort these–”

“Wait!” Neia cried, “Wait! I’m trying to come out!”

She squeezed her way through the crowd as quickly as possible, popping out in front of a line of surprised armsmen a dozen metres from the scion leading them. The nobleman, who was entirely unfamiliar to Neia, gave her a strange look.

“...I suppose that’s why they call you the ‘Faceless One’.”

“Take me if you must,” Neia said, “but let my people go!”

“You are in no position to make demands, criminal! Everyone will get their measure of justice here. The Holy Kingdom suffers no traitors to the Crown.”

“Says the people who just betrayed Caspond.”

Purple-faced, the nobleman stormed forward and raised a gauntleted fist. Neia shied away, raising her hands to cover her head.

“No!”

Something like a squeak sounded in the air. After a moment, Neia looked up to see why the man’s blow hadn’t landed. Saye lay unmoving on the cobblestones in front of her, bleeding from a gash across her right temple.

“Saye!”

She took two steps toward the fallen Bard before she was clubbed by the same fist. Cries of outrage exploded as the world spun around her.

“What are you doing, you bastard?!”

“Striking women! Have you no shame?”

Neia raised a hand to call for silence as she found her footing again. She didn’t care about what she said anymore.

“It’s too bad you southerners bought your way out of service instead of taking all of this bravery of yours to the wall.”

“...”

“...what did she say?”

“That man bought his way out of service!”

“No, she said the southerners did!”

“That’s enough out of you!” The nobleman roared.

He raised his fist again, but, before he could take another swing at Neia, a man from the crowd threw himself at the lordling bodily, sending them both tumbling to the street. All at once, the barely restrained anger of the crowd exploded. A chaotic melee spread across the plaza, filling the night air with the bitter rage of a city long oppressed.

Still, it was nowhere near enough. Once the armsmen got over their initial shock at the sudden assault, their Sergeants started barking out orders and their formations solidified again. Soon, only the blood of the residents was painting the streets.

This is a disaster...

No matter how they twisted and turned, the Nobles were always ahead. Even though the citizens had served in the army and fought in the war, they had been purposely weakened by the Nobles’ schemes. At the same time, the Nobles kept fighting men ready to enforce their will, donning a façade of righteousness defined by laws of their own making.

Her followers needed time to grow strong just as the ones in Rimun had, but there was no chance of that now. As Saye said, she needed a way to strengthen her followers while they were still weak. She needed a way to protect them or maybe even strike down their tormentors. The only thing Neia had, however, was the righteous fury burning deep within her over the brazen injustices being committed all around her.

Neia flinched at a wail of agony next to her, squeezing her eyes shut at the sound filling her ears. Then, she opened them a crack at the sudden silence ensuing in its wake. The sight that greeted her made her jump up with a panicked shout.

Her hand was on fire.

No, she was on fire.

Silver flames danced over her body, yet her flesh wasn’t being consumed. She gazed at the sight in silent wonder for a moment before noticing the charred corpse of the belligerent nobleman lying contorted on the cobblestones a step away.

Did I do that?

The dull ache in her cheek was joined by a second, pulsing pain in her shoulder. Everyone was staring at her in shock. Neia absently stepped over the dead nobleman, heading straight toward the nearest armsman. The armsman’s eyes widened as she approached.

“Y-You! Stay away! Get away from me, witch!”

With a panicked cry, he drove his sword into Neia’s thigh. The flames covering her body raced up the blade, engulfing the armsman in a flash of silver light. His panicked cry transformed into an agonised shriek as he dropped his weapon and danced around, trying in vain to extinguish the fire. Within seconds, his charred corpse fell to the street, joining the remains of his evil master.

“Fight,” Neia gritted her teeth against pain in her leg. “Fight!”

Power coursed through her voice, sweeping through the square to touch the thousands of followers behind her.

“Fight!” Neia cried, “Citizens of the north, rise and fight! Fight for your families; fight for your homes! Fight for our future!”

With a deafening roar, a wave of citizens clad in righteous fire swept over the city streets. The armsmen who met the charge with brandished steel were cooked in their armour the moment their weapons touched the silver flames. Their swords and spears still injured Neia’s followers, but every cut and stab was answered with the same fiery retribution.

Helpless before the onslaught of justice, the establishment’s forces cast down their arms and fled, but no respite would be offered to the agents of sin.

“Purge our lands of injustice!” Neia’s voice rang over the city, “Drive these Demons into the sea!”

And, so, the flame of revolution was ignited in the Holy Kingdom.