Three weeks to the day of the Topaz explosion, Erick struck back.
Friday morning dawned like any other Friday. It even looked and felt similar to the Friday that Topaz fell.
The early morning sun poked its head up above the horizon. Its pinkish orange glow against a pale dusty blue sky promised yet another hot day in store for the denizens of Amber.
High along the city walls, half a dozen sentries were guarding. They were standing at attention, and it looked as if they were staring into the distance.
However, if someone were to zero in on their faces with a scry-visual device, like—oh say—a combat mirror, they would see closed eyes and slack jaws of guards who were mostly asleep with their bodies magiked to stand in one spot.
"Will you look at that. Blain planted guards at the North Gate. What kind of idiot does that?" Erick scoffed as he pointed to the combat sry-visual mirror.
