"It has come again," she said, "they have come again." The rhetoric that she'd been taught as a child, the manner of speaking that the masses adored and found oh-so-commanding. It worked, just as it always did. They stood, enraptured.
"And this time, we have nothing but our walls to defend us," she said. "The bridge must be raised, merely to preserve your lives. The Syndrans are angry, and they are vicious. They mourn the death of their Freuds, and seek vengeance against us."
She cast a pointed look down to the raiders. Blackbeard stood, arms folded, as content as a well-fed cat. He seemed ever so pleased with the state of affairs. Of course, he would be. It didn't affect him. The more renown he gathered, the more these raider men would please themselves. They wanted nothing more than tales told of them, and enough gold to fill barrels with.
