The Wedding of the Age

Zaftig Sunday

The towers of the Liberator island appeared to peak over the horizon in the eyes of the Solar heroes. If they were here, Marquis de Dau and Sedulous Cormorant could easily recovery Krumr and Lina. But there was no doubt that the Liberators would continue their terror either way. Tomorrow they would descend on another town. If the circle could gain entry, their crimes could be ended permanently. Access would be little of an obstacle for the two Night Castes. But the endeavor would require the whole Circle

Righteous Justice felt Cormorant was almost too at home selling him into captivity. Cormorant dawned not only the clothes of the Liberators, but seemingly their whole attitude. A voice not of his own came from his mouth peppered with words and jargon of a veteraned slaver. Justice was pushed and prodded into the squalor of the indentured. Had Cormorant not smuggled in his armor, Justice would have sworn he actually had been sold by his companion. He meandered the slums for some time. The number of people greatly outweighed the capacity of the burg. They were crammed into the decaying buildings. Their faces downtrodden and tired. Of them all, one stood out to Justice. Though he did not know him, the visage was familiar: a man advanced in age but with a spirit that was yet to be broken. Justice sat down with the man outside a crumbling building. He was eager to share his story, it was all he had left. He was of little use to anyone anymore, and the chance to be of service again seemed to ignite a spark within him. He was a wealth of knowledge to Justice. His age had kept him from labor, so he was commonly put to work in the Liberator compound. Even he was able to notice the chaos in the organization. Their were less men to do more work. Something was worrying his captors. The Sun continued to drift over their heads as the old man shared his stories with Justice.

Inside the compound, The Marquis de Dau walked the halls as if he had sauntered through them a thousand times. The confidence in his stride convinced every soul in the room that he was right where he belonged. Chef Cobb shambled behind him as another slave to be sold The Liberators were less excited about having a master cook in their imprisonment than they both had expected. He was sensing the same disorder in the group. This hiccup brought out mixed emotions in the Marquis. He would have to change the plans on the spot, but any disruption and turmoil for the men who had taken his daughter brought out a sense of satisfaction in him.

As much as Dau blended into the dingy corridors of the compound, the drab lifestyle of the Liberators was not of his own. His body strolled among the halls yet his mind raced. He took in everything. Faces passed him on either sides, tan and pale, but they all had one thing in common: dismay. While it seemed contrary to his objective, the intention was suitable. The Marquis would bring a bit of color to the drab sentiments of the island.

No where but within the realm of the Marquis de Dau could word travel so fast. The Liberators had been worked to their breaking point, the idea of a feast put life into their bodies once again. Everywhere whispers spread of food and festivities. The hunger for pleasantries outweighed their own judgement. Only a few senior members questioned the logistics of such a feast, already sparse for resources. But lies spread for Dau’s mouth like water from a raging river.

Cormorant was just another smiling thug among the halls which echoed with joy that hadn’t been heard in ages. He weaved his way through the building, down long passages that never seemed to end. Locked doors gave away to his limber hands. He began to give up hope that his friends were on the island at all when he found his way down a particularly foul smelling flight of stairs. Torches barely lit the room, but it was enough to identify the dungeon. His faith renewed at the sight of Krumr and Lina. The couple watched as another guard relieved theirs of duty. There was some confusion as to who was on watch when a dull spear pierced the back the sentry. The raspy voice of the new guard metamorphosed into the recognizable northern cadence of their captain.

The stage was set. That night, the Liberators would sit down for a feast. They knew little of the plans being erected around them. While the men sat down for the festivities, their once slaves were standing up for themselves.

Justice had all the information he needed. He had sensed the urge of freedom in the slaves. Their independence had been extinguished, but he knew there was a kindle of hope still inside of each of them. The murmurs started around the camp. Only a small group were there to hear the Zenith’s plans. Cramped inside a small room with the winds and rain tapping outside, his words burned inside of them. Fear and doubt gave way to hope. The news spread from room to room like a wild fire. They knew the signal, and when the cue came, they would mob on their captors.

The music flooded the halls on Dau’s command. The song rang from the compound and reached the ears of the slaves in their quarters. It was now or never. Justice’s mighty goremaul materialized in his hands. With a fell swoop, the hammer came crashing into the gates, crushing the guards under rumble on the other side. The wall was broken, the slaves were free of their shackles, and now their fate was in their hands. Those in the watch towers sprang to their feet. The twang of their bows drowned out their own demise. From the shadows, the spear of Cormorant shot forth. Tower and after tower fell as the Night races along the colossal walls.



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