Streets of Fire

[TearsoftheWorld]

OOC: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=1175559

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Sometimes, late at night, Marie Soltvedt would dream about a world that wasn't her own.

Instead of the peaceful fishing village she had grown up in, she would find herself at the heart of a great city, surrounded by colossal statues and grand towers. In her right hand she held a tattered flag of purple and gold, and in her left hand she grasped the hilt of a mighty sword. Marie was keenly aware of how alone she was, even though the ringing of bells could be heard from nearly every corner of the city. She walked down a narrow street, stepping over numerous pieces of broken furniture that at one point could have formed some sort of barrier.

Although one barrier wouldn't have been very effective, Marie noticed that each street had several barriers that would have slowed down even the most well-trained force.

Yet each time, just before she could reach the heart of the city, Marie would wake up. Sometimes she was lying comfortably in her bed, and other times she would be out on her fishing boat, resting as best as she could against the empty nets she brought with her.

The gentle lapping of water against the side of her boat was a comfort in and of itself.

Marie liked to think that it was the kind of pleasure that even the King and Queen, with all their infinite wealth, would never get the chance to experience. Yes, they had incredible ships, but would they know what it felt like to just let all your cares slip away to the heavens?

Not likely.

Marie thought about what her mother used to tell her before she passed away:

De vet ingenting.

De har ingen svar.

"They know nothing.

They have no answers."

All Marie had to do was look for the compass inside herself. More often than not... it led her out onto the water. The young woman let out a deep sigh as sat up and began rowing back towards the shore. The town she lived in was small, so even if she didn't catch much, the fish that she did catch would bring some measure of comfort to their empty stomachs. The Crown had started levying harsher taxes in recent, and trade was scarce. Pirates were known to patrol the open seas, and most of the foreign ships that did arrive safely were ill received.

Marie would often hear the villagers talk about the troubles of the "Mad King" when she stopped by the local tavern, though she never engaged in gossip herself. Most of the 'discussions' led to some pretty nasty fights anyways, so it was best for her not to get involved.

"De vet ingenting."

Once her boat was safely docked, Marie had most of the fish transferred over to some carts that were waiting. After dropping off her share at the orphanage, she was told that there were some travelers at the inn that were looking for someone to ferry them safely across the river. Although Marie couldn't guarantee anything, she offered to at least go down and talk to the them.

 

[Varshanka]

Magdalena

Moving through the streets, the beggarman shuffled along, one leg twisted from an old wound. Probably one of the wars in the kingdoms past. Which kingdom didn’t matter. Which side didn’t matter. Everyone fought someone sometime.

Moving across the open street, from alley to alley the vagrant paused as a group of toughs sourrounded him. “Look ‘ere a beggar. Can I have some coins beggar man. Hey raggedy man, giv’ o’re yer coins.” They yelled as they attempted to taunt the beggar.

Shuffling past, the beggar ignored them. Right up to the moment one grabbed a dusty flea and fly covered pouch. At that brief touch there was a soft whisper and the wanna-be-thug stepped back, eyes a blinky-blink.

“Wassa mata, munch?” One of the thuglings asked.

But munch wasn’t talking. Instead he started to cough. A nasty cough that sent blood a dappling his friends face.

“Plague.” Another said.

“Munch has the plague.” Making warding signs against evil the toughs scattered to the four winds, each afraid of the others. Afraid someone else had the plague, and hell bent on not getting it. But Munch’s plague was not of the disease. Poor Munch just had the plague of stupidity.

Moving on the beggarman crossed into another alley even before Munch’s friends had begun to scatter. Passing from shadow to shadow the raggedy man made his way across town, collecting a hat from a drunkard, and giving it to another a few blocks away. Tightening it’s cloak it appeared to be more of a dust covered coat than anything else.

A few whispered queries and an answer was obtained.

***

Sitting at the end of the long table, wooden bowl of mutton and ‘taters before him, the raggedy man ate. Eyes darting around, as if wondering whom would steal his food. Not that he needed to worry, the smell kept most away, and the maggots even more.

Mostly though it was the bandages. Bandages that covered the hands and the face. Beggar man would be better called Poxman.

But each and every time the door opened, those eyes flickered to the side. Not to the door, but away. Away to look at a polished shield that hung on the wall. A shield probably from some fools days gone by. Days of heroic deeds. Or stupidity.

A shield that acted like a mirror and allowed poxman an unobstructed view of the door and front windows.

 

[RedStarFic]

Nathaniel opened his eyes. His head felt like it had been kicked by a horse and his mind swam with the memory of the last day.

Assuming I’ve not been unconscious for long..

From his position on his side he could see a stone wall and he was on a straw covered stone floor. Talking behind him, he recognized the voices.

”It’s a bloody shame it is. His was a good family. Good to the locals, they used to get involved you know?”

“Yeah, I remember him. Now the old man’s dead and this one’ll disappear just like his sister. Poor cow. They said she was helping the traitors. She’ll be wishing she was dead by now I expect.”

“Aye. She was a pretty thing too. Guilty or not I bet them solders are treating her wicked bad, such a bloody waste.”

The talking stopped as Nathaniel stirred and stood. He was in a cell. Iron bars set in an oak door. He could see the uniforms of the militia that had captured him - the same one he'd approached for help. He put money on the other one being the one that hit him over the back of the head.

He was still wearing his uniform but he was unarmed, he could see his belongings on a desk. It wasn't his treatment that caused him to scowl however, it was the casual discussion of his family’s destruction. It made him angry, an anger fueled by the emotion of knowing his family was destroyed. His world was destroyed.

“Open this door! There has to have been a mistake! Let me out! If I catch up with them I can fix this! I need to find them and explain..!”

He carried on shouting, hammering at the oak door, oblivious to the pain in his fists and the thudding in his head where he’d been knocked out with a blow to the back of the head only a few hours before.

"OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!"

Eventually he shouted himself hoarse and sank back down to the floor, shaking with anger and grief.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

"Burn it down."

The order was given and understood, but the soldiers charged with setting the torches to the Beringer Estate were a little slow to comply. They all looked towards each other, perhaps waiting to see which one of them would be the first to act. After all, this wasn't some peasant's farm that they were being asked to raze to the ground. Nathaniel Beringer was a decorated officer... and very well respected by all the men that had come to know him.

So it came as a complete shock when word spread that members of his prestigious family had connections with the anarchists. Weapons had been found during a search of the premises, and while Nathaniel's sister was apparently taken in for questioning, the lieutenant's father was killed during a brief skirmish with one of the officers.

No one was allowed to question what had happened.

They were simply given their orders.

The fires raged well into the night, and could be seen for miles around. An early morning shower had helped to put the smoldering flames out, but by daybreak, nothing remained of the once noble estate. Nathaniel himself had been arrested not long after returning home, and while not everyone believed the gossip that was quickly spreading around, opinions had already started to shift within the capital, and it was only a matter of time before word reached the far corners of the empire.

Until he could be properly addressed by the King's Court, Nathaniel was being held by some of the local militia. They found his shouting to be incredibly vexing, but it was only a matter of time before his efforts would give in.

Once Nathaniel had quieted down a bit, one of the young guards got up from his post and approached the cell. He crouched down beside it, but remained at least an arm's length away from the cold bars on the off-chance that the older lieutenant still had some strength left in him.

"You know... I had a feeling. Knew if from the first day I met you. You might have some of the other men fooled... but not me."

The younger man pulled out a fancy silver pocket watch that had been confiscated during the raid, and he played with the long chain attached to the time piece before shoving it back into his pocket.

"I expect they'll be hanging you," he said as he rose up onto his feet and spat into the cell. "Wish I could be there to see it... but see... they've got us rotting away in this hell hole."

He feigned a heavy sigh, and then smiled before he turned away.

"Oh well. At least it's better than that dirt pile you've got. Oh wait... that burned away too."

 

[RedStarFic]

Nathaniel rose to his feet again, fixing the young man with a baleful stare.

He stepped forward and gripped the bars. He knew that there was no point trying to negotiate. He had wondered if it was worth trying to send word to the navy. The last conversation he had had with his superiors had been about him taking command of his own ship upon a forthcoming promotion to Captain, but he knew that his former friends and sponsors in the Admiralty were probably already moving to distance themselves from him. That was how it worked these days.

First officer on the navy's flagship one day. Public enemy number one the next. This young bastard knew that Nathaniel was truly fucked. But he also knew his record. Few didn't.

"Look after that watch, boy." he called out.

"Because when I escape, and I will escape, one day I will come back for it. Do you hear me boy? Learn to sleep with your eyes open."