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Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 8.6, Malcom (pt 2)

Malcom had visited Prince Regent Thaddius numerous times since their father had died... once a week at first, then, when his 'handlers' had begun noticing the young Prince fought to find a way to him at least once a month; sometimes he succeeded and sometimes not. The one consistent aspect of every trip however was that he always chose the northern cliffs as his route into the castle and that meant that he always avoided town.

Even though it had been a long time since he had walked the streets Graddin hadn't changed visibly in Malcom's absence. Everything was exactly the way he remembered it, further convincing him that the static nature of the Church prospered under stasis. Walking down the street during the day should have been reinvigorating... affirming... liberating... but no, not completely because there WAS one thing that was different: there had never before been bloody bodies strewn all across the boulevard.

The acrid stench of gunpowder was everywhere and a gray haze hung in the breeze; the high walls of Graddin were excellent at keeping out invaders but it also kept the atmosphere stagnant and the battle that raged within the city only further sullied the air. The battle damage was not great near the periphery of the city but as Malcom proceeded closer to the center it got worse... much worse. Although Malcom never laid eyes upon the combat he could hear the discharging of firearms and occasionally catch the peal of metal on metal. There was a war going on and it was tearing Graddin apart.

His bare feet struck the cobblestones of the street; Malcom had long-since learned to run faster without boots. The sounds of battle grew closer as he sped up, drawing nearer and nearer to the Center Square of the city. From the Center Square he would take King's Walk, the wide, richly appointed boulevard that led directly to the castle. The road was unmistakable when he arrived at the large, open courtyard of the city; not only was it the largest street, but it was also paved in the corpses of hundreds of slain combatants.

Strewn about the boulevard almost as plentiful as the cobblestones were bodies of fallen warriors and innocent city-goers caught in the middle of the crossfire. Swordsmen wearing the tabards of Lehsunia were mixed in the jumble of armed men adorned with the Symbol of the Church. Malcom jumped over the corpses, using benches, lamp posts, and plant pots as stepping stones as he bypassed guardsmen wearing the royal coat of arms piled against musketeers from the University. Everywhere he looked was slaughter but it was even worse than he had feared.

The sun was just touching the horizon by the time Malcom arrived at the sight of battle but it brought him no comfort; the melee had reached Castle Square and it was horrific. Somewhere up ahead Malcom heard the hunting howl of Berro, which meant that his companion had found what they had sought. The Prince murmured quietly to himself even as he increased the speed, picking his way through the fresh bodies that littered the streets. "Thaddius... I'm coming..."

The warriors continued to slay one another all around Malcom but they gave him wide berth, apparently preferring armed opponents over a lone wolf. Even so, the Prince was required to sidestep warriors as their individual battles pushed them every which way and, once he took into consideration hundreds of such fights taking place in the square it became almost impossible to move. All of that ceased mattering however when the double doors on the castle's main tower opened toward the square, revealing Prince Regent Thaddius. The majestic Wolf stepped out onto the balcony some thirty feet overhead and the fighting came to a stop.

Walking to the balcony, Prince Regent Thaddius raised a paw to the assembled combatants, completely nonplused about the gore and violence. His voice was strong and he spoke clearly, the perfect orator. "Greetings, my subjects! I bid you welcome, and thank you for coming to join me in these glorious festivities!"

Malcom was surprised at his brother's blatant disregard for the state of his city but, as the young Wolf caught sight of Brother Maynard standing behind and to the side of the Prince Regent the realization gave him pause. Could the Priest have Thaddius so drugged that the waking world was nothing more than a dream? Just how in-control of his facilities was the Prince Regent? No, Malcom realized... he was too late.

The Prince Regent continued his speech, quite oblivious to the horrors going on down below or the presence of his younger brother who was privy to all of them. "This is a grand day, people of Lehsunia, for it is the changing of the guard; today is a gateway to tomorrow. Today, everything changes and we are heralded into a new vision of the future... a new age... a new Lehsunia!"

The battle suddenly started up anew all around Malcom and he was pushed forward when two men slammed into him from behind; a moment later blood sprayed up from one of them as the other jabbed his blade home. Thaddius raised his paws, reacting to the fresh chaos as if it were uproarious applause then, finally his eyes happened upon Malcom. "Ah! Little brother! I'm so glad you could be with us for this glorious day!"

There were any number of things Malcom would have wanted to say to his brother but, alas, he did not get the chance. Even as Thaddius leaned over the balcony to address him, Brother Maynard stepped up behind the Prince Regent and knelt. From there it was a simple prospect for the Dog to grab the Prince Regent by his ankle and hoist him up. Malcom watched in slow motion as Thaddius pitched forward before tumbling up and over the railing.

The Prince Regent squealed out in delight, exclaiming joyously as he flailed in the air. "Look, Malcom! Look! I will fly for you!"

Malcom wasn't as optimistic. "THADDIUS!"

Pushing the closest pair of combatants out of his way, Malcom raced to intercept his falling brother... but was far too late. The sound of bones breaking within a fleshy impact jarred him awake. He had been asleep next to the cook fire of the merchant wagon train and the dream had left him disconcerted but the repeat sound of an impact brought things into focus immediately. He opened a single eye and watched as a man dressed completely in black were restraining one of the merchant guards while a third struck him yet again in the head with a club; the third time was the charm and the sentry stopped squirming.

The Wolf did not use a sleeping bag, rather he was simply laid out on a pad and that made it easier for him to access the blade he kept in a leather sheath against the small of his back. Rotating on the ground slightly coupled with an inconspicuous stretch resulted in having his paw right where it needed to be. He remained quiet, listening to the three skulks as they snuck into camp. The smallest of the bunch who appeared to be a Gerbil by his build drew a little closer to the fire. "Where's 'e? 'e's supposed'ta be 'ere..."

The largest of the bunch, and the one responsible for beating the guard was most definitely a Bear. He shushed the Gerbil and whispered quietly. "He's a Wolf, right? Look for Wolves."

The third member of the team, the one who had been restraining the unfortunate sentry snapped his fingers twice and motioned to the campfire; Malcom noticed the man had a hand crossbow tied to a belt at his hip. It took a moment for the Wolf to plan his next course of action but he had the confrontation mapped out as the Bear and Gerbil approached. The Gerbil was the next one to speak. "Ah... there 'e is.. that's gotta be th' Prince."

Sitting up and turning to face them Prince Malcom got to his knees, remaining in a crouch as he eyed them. He kept his back to the fire, creating a silhouette of himself so they wouldn't be able to track the movement of his paw that held the flint blade. "Gentlemen you obviously know me but I must admit that I am at a loss as I do not know you."

The Bear was pretty straight forward. "You've angered quite a few people, your Highness."

The Wolf cracked a wry grin. "We all have our faults, my friend... if I knew who they were I would be happy to extend them an apology."

The Gerbil stepped forward; Malcom could tell by the crease in the scarf across his muzzle that the rodent was sneering. "They got other ways fer ya ta make it right... yer 'ighness..."

The Prince slowly rose to a standing position; he recognized the Gerbil's accent. "Strange... I wouldn't have figured a Wyrian for a kidnapper..."

The Gerbil pulled out a metal rod. "We ain't 'ere t'kidnap..."

The third member of the group calmly reached down to pull the hand crossbow free. The Bear, who was closer suddenly became much more of a concern however as he stepped forward with his bloody club at the ready. "You shoulda stayed somewhere safe."

The Wolf sidestepped the overhead strike but the Bear was deceptively fast, quickly spinning the weapon around to draw a backswing across at Malcom's midsection... the Wolf, however, was faster and quickly backpedaled. He issued a quick whistle and then double-stepped forward, raising his front leg and delivering a stomp on his attacker's exposed calf, forcing the Bear down to his knees. The figure near the foliage leveled his crossbow and by that time Malcom maximized his leverage to twist the Bear in front of him; his Ursine attacker let out a grunt as the bolt impacted him instead of the Wolf.

The Gerbil, despite his size did not hesitate. While Malcom was coping with the weight of the Bear the smallest of his three assailants launched forward, lashing out with his small metal bar. The Wolf grunted at the impact against his ribs but it was hardly the painful attack he expected... until he was shocked. Whatever the Gerbil held discharged a powerful blast of energy into Malcom and he could barely even managed a strangled exclamation.

He fell away, somehow managing to maintain standing but the Wolf realized too late that the third attacker was leveling his crossbow again. The trigger was pulled a half-second after Berro collided with him and the attack shot off into the woods. The Gerbil glanced back, distracted just long enough for Malcom to lurch forward, bringing his flint blade to bear and impaling the rodent's forearm, causing him to drop the metal rod. At that point the commotion had finally wakened the camp and reinforcements were rapidly arriving.

The guardsmen had the squealing Gerbil apprehended quickly. After a cursory examination of the Bear it was deemed that he wouldn't require any observation... just an undertaker. It wasn't until Malcom approached the third figure that Berro finally relented his attack, leaving the final assailant with a bloodied arm. The Wolf was dismayed to see the embroidered Symbol of the Church just within the folds of his cloak. He asked the simplest question he could. "Why?"

The man remained where he was on the ground, hands up, breathing heavily behind his mask. The slitted-pupils of a Goat were visible where the cloth of his hood parted and Malcom could see his curved horns clearly as more guards appeared carrying torches. The Church did not ordain Goats, Sheep, or any hooved individuals, but they were not above using them as hounds. There was a long delay before the man responded. "You're in the way, your Highness... does there need to be any other reason?"

The Wolf growled low in his chest, motioning to the guards. "Get him up... we'll need him to answer some questions."

A Jaguar merchant sentinel handed his torch to the Bull Dog beside him and reached down to grab the Goat. The would-be assassin was hauled up to a standing position, but that's when his compliance ended. Grabbing the Jaguar by the wrist he twisted the guard's arm around and behind his back and pushed him forward into the rest. Malcom had his knife out but the Goat already had a double-barreled pistol aimed his way. The first shot fired wide, not even grazing him. "You are not the best shot, sir... perhaps it would be best to--"

The Goat leveled the pistol right at him. "I'm good enough."

A moment later the muzzle rotated and rose so that it pointed up right beneath the Goat's muzzle. "For the Glory of God." and he pulled the trigger.

Letting out a stunned breath, Malcom turned back toward the camp and saw that the Goat's first shot hadn't missed; a hole in the Gerbil's forehead told the Wolf that there wouldn't be an opportunity to gain any information. Runs-on-Air and Brother Rhys were already up by then so he didn't have to seek them out as he returned to where his belongings were by the fire. "Gather your gear and catch up. We are done camping. I want to be in Graddin by morning."

Berro had nothing to collect and joined the Prince as they went on ahead.