The Radiant War

Chapter 31a

     All the ordinary business of the city had stopped as the Princess and her army stepped out into the street. How word had spread so quickly they never found out, but more people joined them at every street corner they passed, leaving shops, factories and schools unattended. The men were armed with anything they could find as a weapon whether it was a kitchen knife strapped to a broom handle, a crowbar or a hundred year old antique sword. A very few people had firearms, mainly shotguns normally used by farmers and gamekeepers to control wild animals. The Brigadier suspected that the owners of these weapons had originally brought them into the city for criminal purposes, but this wasn't the time to pursue that train of thought.

     Every house they passed had faces in the windows. Half raised animals or people left infirm by age or injury. There would also be people too timid to take part in the uprising, of course, but who, in years to come, would entertain anyone who would listen with the tale of how they'd been at the very forefront of the army, marching alongside Princess Ardria and the Brigadier themselves. And, of course, if the uprising should fail, they would swear to the King's men how desperately they had tried to talk their fellows out of their traitorous actions out of love and loyalty to the regime.

     The Brigadier didn't let himself think about such people. Every city had them, even in Helberion. He kept his attention on the windows nonetheless, fearing that there might be a King’s man behind one of them armed with a long gun, taking aim at the Princess. What would the crowd do if Ardria were shot down? he wondered. Would they fly into a fury and attack the palace as a disorganised rabble, or would they mill around in confusion for a while and then quietly all go home?

     No shot rang out. They passed through the industrial complex known for some arcane historical reason as The Puddles, then entered ones of the city's residential districts, so similar to the working class districts of Farwell that Malone had described to him that the Brigadier felt a pang of grief for his former batman. Word had reached Edward Blake just the day before that Lord Benjamin Hedley had died when his mansion had burned to the ground, and there was no doubt in the Brigadier's mind that Malone had been responsible. Malone had told Ambassador Mornwell that he was going to kill Benjamin, and Benjamin had died just a few days later. The timing was too perfect for it to have been a coincidence.

     Among the bodies found at the scene, though, not all had died in the fire. One had been viciously torn apart, something that could only be the work of a Radiant, and although the body had been described as fully human, the Brigadier had no doubt that it had been Malone. Why would a Radiant have killed someone in that way, unless it was in retribution for the murder of their human collaborator? No, Malone was dead, the Brigadier was certain of it, but he kept his grief in check for when he had the time to indulge it. Right now, the Princess needed him at the top of his game.

     They continued on through the narrow streets of the city, through the merchant district then past a large hospital and orphanage, possibly the only large buildings still functioning normally as doctors and nurses tended to patients who could not be left unattended even for something as monumental as the regime change of an entire kingdom. Finally, they reached the noble districts that ringed the centre of the city. Here, for the first time, they sensed fear emanating from the buildings they were passing. Shutters were closed, and those windows that lacked shutters were dark as every light inside had been extinguished. The city's elite would be trembling with fear as they imagined the mob turning on them once the King had been dealt with. The Brigadier knew that the Princess would protect them if she could, not wanting them to get caught up in the killing she had warned might be about to begin, but no matter what she did the Brigadier knew that there would still be isolated murders if a nobleman or a wealthy merchant should ever be careless enough to find himself in the wrong kind of company without his small army of bodyguards to protect him. These people had a right to be scared.