The crowd burst through the castle gates like a river of unbridled rage. Their hateful screams announcing their arrival within the castle grounds.
Cyrus was the first stationed guard on their path to the Queen, but when the surge approached, he didn't raise a weapon. Instead, he simply ran through them, weaving in and around, from the front line to the rear.
To his fellow guardsmen, it seemed he had given up.
From afar, the Queen wept as she looked down on the spectacle, fighting through the shame and sadness of disappointing her people. She was ready for whatever retribution she may face, but she was unprepared for the horror that followed. The rioters leading the charge slowly appeared to peel away from the ground. A field of black coats rose like a wave.
Pleas for help replaced their angry screams. Flailing arms and legs searched for purchase, most finding none, some grasping a terrified companion.
Magics of all types shot out and rained down in failed attempts to combat their ascent.
As the last of the crowd lifted off the ground, one man remained. Cyrus fell to his knees, looking up at the swathe of black blotting out the sky. With their panicked, fearful faces growing more distant, it was then that he noticed the children.
Unbeknownst to him, intending to make their numbers appear more formidable, Cornerstone had dressed children tall enough to resemble adults in their black coats. They never intended to fight, it was merely a feigned show of power to force the Queen's hand.
Cyrus sprang to his feet, reaching up toward a crying young girl, their arms extended toward each other, but it wasn't enough. Only her tears fell to reach him.
The next few moments passed torturously slowly. Men and women of mighty power could only watch helplessly as they rose higher and higher. No one dared blink as they witnessed the final moments of so many souls. And then, they were just… gone."
"I had no idea," Ramsey cupped his hands over his mouth, "…How many people?"
"Most guilds when combined from all 6 regions total around 120. But, with the children, 163 people lost their lives," Naeve sighed regretfully.
"And Cyrus?" Ramsey asked.
"He was arrested immediately. And a new crime was created for the act of forcibly removing one's connection to Elorr, called Untethering.
As one of her guards, the Queen had witnessed this technique of Cyrus's many times, used against monsters in her protection while traveling the kingdom. But after the devastating tragedy at the castle, all uses were strictly forbidden. It was deemed a crime against Elorr… punishable by death.
But, none of that mattered, because the only man capable of such atrocities was locked away in the dungeons. Until now."
Naeve leaned in, darkly staring with his bright eyes, "So, I'll ask you again. Do you know right from wrong?"
"Yes. Absolutely, yes," Ramsey answered without hesitation.
"There are those that think Cornerstone got what they deserved," Naeve leaned back in his chair, "except for the children, of course.
They believe that Cyrus was justified in his protection of the Queen. Without his intervention she and her guard would have died, leaving the kingdom in a rudderless struggle for power.
Those people found that when they made their opinions known, supporting a mass murderer made them targets within their communities.
And so began the silence on the topic of gravity magic."
"I have no intention of untethering anyone," Ramsey assured.
"I should hope not," Naeve stood up indicating their conversation was over.
Ramsey nodded and started back towards the registration office when Naeve added, "After you've settled your debt, I hope you'll consider joining Dominion. A power like yours is deserving of a strong guild."
As Ramsey exited Dominion's guild office, he glanced left at the unmarked central office. He envisioned the grand black banner of Cornerstone once hung there.
Although Ramsey had no relation to Cyrus, he expected most people would tie them together. Naeve had even called him Ramsey's predecessor. 'I'll have to work hard to change people's opinions of me.'
After returning to the job board, he decided to start small and selected a job for a mover. The posting requested a team of three, expected to haul boulders excavated by terra mages from their jobsite to nearby trailers. The day's wage was one gold split three ways, with the guild taking half. Between three people, he would be left with sixteen silver, but if he took the job by himself, that would jump to fifty. Ramsey unpinned the posting and went to see Cerill.
The registrar looked up at him in confusion, "But this is a job for three people. You can't bring in outside help, you know? All work must be done by persons indebted to the guild."
"I can do it myself. This is within my… capabilities,' he said as Cerill's desk raised an inch of the ground, startling the poor clerk once again.
"Fine, fine!" he said as the desk lowered, then he logged Ramsey's first job. "Now please just go."
Ramsey smiled, Cerill was fun to play with.
He waved at the dark haired girl as he left the guild office, she waved back with as much of a smile as she could muster, 'I really need to learn her name.'
The day was half over at this point, with not nearly enough time to complete his job. Deciding to save that for tomorrow, he set out to sell the antlers. 'Afterward I'll stop by the Healers Office for a bit of shopping with Ella.'
Finally exploring more of the town, he ventured to the western way, passing by a bakery that smelled of wonderful fresh rye bread, a butcher, and a woodworker. However, what he was looking for came at the end of the street, Orem's Knives.
Orem was direct competition for Treya, but he stayed in his niche of knives and small blades.
Ramsey entered the shop wearing his conversation starter on his back.
"Whoa…," was the first word that came to mind when he entered. Glass topped display cases, tilted for the best view, hung on the walls in three rows. Knives of every color, shape and material, caught the light perfectly.
Ramsey could say one thing about Orem, he knew how to put on a display.
"That's quite the wardrobe accessory you've got there, young man," a gruff voice spoke from behind.
If any man on Elorr was fit to be in a western movie, it was Orem. His mustache, the drawl of his words, even the gate of his walk, he fit the mold.
"I was actually looking to sell them," Ramsey presented his spoils for the man to see.
"I already got enough inventory, as you can see," he waved his hand at the various displays.
"I'll take one gold for the whole rack," Ramsey said as Orem's eyes grew wide. "That's about half price, right?"
"How about this," he relaxed his brow, "one gold for the antlers, but you agree to come back and buy a knife when they're done," he held out his hand to shake.
"Deal," Ramsey said honestly and shook the man's hand. He liked the idea of having a knife, but even more when it was made from a monster he had defeated.
With a little more coin in his pocket Ramsey walked swiftly toward the Healer's office, 'I can finally replace these damned blood spattered pants. Again.'
Just as he walked past the Break-Inn a fight involving several men spilled outside into the street.
Two men locked in arms stumbled into Ramsey, entangling him as well. Another of the men staggering in their direction grabbed Ramsey's shoulder from behind, turning him around, and decked him.
The punch was right over his eye, splitting the skin slightly, and leaving him seeing stars as he fell on his behind.
"Who're you?" His inebriated assailant questioned through a hiccup.
Ramsey rolled to a knee, stood himself up and dazedly walked away. "Jesus, what the hell?" He knocked on the Healers Office door as he touched his wound and felt it sting.
"Ramsey, you're ba- Oh my! What happened?! Come in, come in," Ella said, ushering him in.
"What's all the commotion?" Doctor Morten came running.
"No healings please," Ramsey held up his hands. I can't afford it. Besides, I just took one really hard punch… in a fight I wasn't even involved in. I'll be okay.
"Ramsey, I am sorry about the healing debt and I don't have to heal you now," the doctor assured. "But at least let me get a look at you. You could have a concussion and need specific instructions for care."
"Fine," Ramsey said, "just no healing. It's a small cut, and I'll probably have a black eye, but I can manage that."
The doctor held both hands slightly off Ramsey's head and a faint yellow glow appeared beneath them. After a moment, he took a sharp breath and stopped.
"Ramsey," he paused briefly, pulling up a stool to sit, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
'Oh god,' Ramsey thought.
"You have what's called a brain tumor."