The Price {Completed}

Chapter Nineteen

The riots that happened on the night the king died were nothing compared to the ones that raged that night. Everywhere we turned there were Common Army soldiers fending back the forces of the workers and citizen who turned on them with a single word from their Vigilant Men friends. Barricades and crudely built fortress grew from nothing into masses that blocked roads and armored buildings. The Common Army took to holing up and trying to hide, while the Vigilant Men went freely from house to house, gathering up their army with the simple uniform of a white rose.

Ferdinand and I tried to stay in the shadows, hoping no one would see us, but dressed in a shift that closely resembled the Common Army's uniform, and Ferdinand dressed in a very over exaggerated replica of the king's rich clothing, we were not exactly the easiest to blend. Whenever we passed anyone on the street, they would invariably turn and yell, chasing us with fists or rocks or anything else they could find. Thankfully, Ferdinand and I were in perfect health, and the workers and citizens that joined the Vigilant Men were more starved than anything else. If we could keep the lead for long enough, the worker would flag until he gave up with a barrage of curses at our backs.

When we passed by a simple launderers on one of the streets, Ferdinand picked up a loose cobblestone from the road and threw it through the side window of the shop. I felt sickened that we were damaging some innocents' property, but the sound of the Vigilant Men and Common Army's fights were growing closer to us. Ferdinand climbed through, quietly wincing as the glass bit into his knees and palms, leaving streaks of blood on the fabric of his clothes and on the lintel. He reached back for me, and I took his hand. My palm slid against his, the blood warm and sticky against my skin. I looked to him, but he didn't seem very concerned with the pain, so I didn't say anything.

In the back of the store were piles of clothes that were meant to be washed. They were sorted and tagged, awaiting a staff that might never return. Ferdinand tossed them into the air as he rooted around for anything that might be suitable. He came up with a pair of blue trousers and a long coat for me, and a rough shirt of green material that he swapped out his king's jacket and silk shirt for. Even at a time like this, and half freezing in my costume, I still flushed as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his bare chest. I quickly looked away, focusing on fumbling my new trousers on under my dress. They fit loose and baggy, the waist sliding at every opportunity. Ferdinand, seeing my trouble, held me still while he ripped a strip from the hem of my dress and threaded it through the loops on my trousers until they were snug around my waist.

Ferdinand pulled away to slip on his shirt and I rubbed at the small spot where I could still feel where his fingers had touched the bare skin of my stomach. I shook my head and pulled on the long coat, which didn't entirely cover the white shift, but disguised enough of it that it no longer looked Common Army. Ferdinand wore a pair of trouser with a stripe of black velvet down the sides of the pants, but his shirt and a shabby coat managed to make him look more of the working class. He tousled his hair out of its well-oiled style and into one that looked like he had just woken up. We had no hats to cover our hair and warm our ears, but it couldn't be helped.

In our new apparel, we crept back out of the launderers, and into the streets. Ferdinand pulled me close once again, his arm gently stroking my arm. I didn't know if it was to calm himself down, or if he wanted to comfort me, but I felt a little warmer at any rate.

The Vigilant Men bothered us less, but we still did not tarry in the streets, or near anyone who was outside. We stuck to the sides of the walkways, pressed nearly to touching the walls of the shops and then row houses. If anyone still lived in the middle-class housing here, they were all locked away and hoping that the fighting would fall to one or the other of the two sides.

Ferdinand dropped his chin to the top of my head, looking to all the world as if he were just a boy snuggling with his sweetheart. But really he whispered into my hair, covering his lips so others could not see what he said.