The royal guard, slathered in steel and worry, spoke up, shakily replying to the high priest's demands.
Captain: My apologies! 'Worried.' You see, we, ermm... (Lost in what to say, biting the inside of his cheek.) This woman agreed to... She said she would take responsibility for them. (Feeling the pain in his arms and legs.) We didn't really have much choice... 'Worn.'
The other three men were also wearing the tired stare and hastily looked away from the high priest's questioning glances. Brucknell saw it up close, as could the crowd closest to them to his right.
Brucknell: 'Disgruntled.' Indeed, a grover surely does have the tongue of the captain of the royal guard... (Scrunching his eyes shut.)
A young guard standing by a set of spare wooden beams, a few metres away, aired his thoughts to the person next to him.
*SNICKERING FROM THE GUARDS BY THE PODIUM, HEARING THE HIGH PRIEST'S WORDS.*
Podium Guard 1: Pfft, it looks like he got fifty shades of shit kicked out of him... So much for a Captain of the... 'Suprised pause.' Whoa, is that who I think it is? (Looking to the blonde-haired woman.) No wonder. He's got a death wish to go against that one, though, I wouldn't mind drinking her ale if you catch my drift. 'Chuckling.'
A harsh reply came from a fellow guard standing still, also hearing the commotion from afar and nearby, eerily reminiscent of the conversation between Byrnn and Gonf repeating itself in the light.
Podium Guard 2: That one would eat you alive and spit you out, so keep on dreaming; the only wood you'd get from that one is that spear up your ass, pointed side down. 'Comical.'
No reply came from the man, who was lost in fantasies and imaginative pleasures.
Podium Guard 2: (Mocking hand replicating a moving mouth.) Keep flapping those lips, and you will be getting something alright, straight from the holiest of holy... so, shut it, you dumb shit! 'Hushed reprimanding.' All it takes is... (Feeling eyes on his person.) Crap...
Brucknell turned menacingly to face the two men talking by the podium he left behind. The atmosphere changed from a soothing sensation from the crowd to a crushing weight of idiocy on two fronts. An unhappy look took over the face of the high priest, just barely hearing the lesser guards words, still enough to piece together what they were saying, seeing the rude flapping gesture come to an abrupt end.
Brucknell: Do the lower guards of the guild wish to add anything to this man's babblings? 'Irritated.' Or are you both simply praying in a foreign "Demian tongue" that needs washing out with some "holy water?" Well?
Both guards by the podium ceased their words, now feeling and seeing the piercing eyes aimed at them as they began to pray in their heads of their foolishness, turning their blank faces onto the crowd in front, who in turn were looking back at them. Snickering and laughter were aimed at the foolishness and reprimand the two men received.
A young boy near the front bobbed his tongue out at both of the men, adding to the embarrassment, holding onto his mother's hands.
Brucknell batted his wrinkled eyelids at the bumbling mess falling into his ears on all sides and moved his hand to his face.
Brucknell: (Pinching the bridge of his nose.) I thought not... 'Tired sigh.'
The three followers behind the small man lowered the robe, relaxing their arms while still keeping the soft material above the cobbles, all of them sensing the high priest losing his patience.
The royal guard continued to speak on, not noticing when to quit or take the hint of the priest's worn look.
Captain: You see, she is of the house of Arm... 'Bumbling.'
Before the royal guard could finish in his broken tone any further, the brain, ensnared in steel trying to rectify the situation, rocked to the side, jiggling in the helm as it clunked to his temple.
The man was being moved to the side forcefully by someone behind him.
*ARM PUSHING THE ROYAL GUARD TO THE SIDE.*
The high priest, seeing the drama unfold, mulled over the three letters in his head of the royal guards words, sparking a memory in his mind that began to burn hotter.
Like a set of draping vines being casually moved, in a single motion that clipped his left breast plate, the captain felt weightless—the same feeling from the inn washed over him; it was gravity pulling onto his body, gently this time, not forced, not feeling the sensation that halted his body's movements or the sickness welling in his throat.
A tall woman with blonde hair looked on, her sleeves no longer adorning her marks, as she pushed past the man trying to speak to the high priest. The royal guard called out, knowing it was the woman from behind him, as he regained his composure, turning to see her back.
Captain: Hey, watch it! 'Startled.' Even now you are still acting like a ruffian; you know who this man is... yet, you still act in such a manner, a lady of a house, my arse. 'Collecting himself.' Come to think of it, is that emblem even real...
Up and away from the arm that made the royal guard tumble, the lips of the landlady began to move, ignoring the royal guard in sight but not in words.
Magio: It seems like I have jolted your brain back to its senses. 'Pausing.' If I had to listen to you any longer, I think I would have an aneurism... (Thumbing her temple.) I know very well who "he" is... 'Annoyed.' As for my emblem, it is real. If you don't believe me, I can show you my skills again; this time you will be sucking stone, not kneeling. 'Wating.' Well? Do you want to see it?
The captain went quiet, not wanting to poke the beast any longer, biting his tongue.
Magio: The wisest decision you have made all morning... (Gazing at the priest.) Now, what "he" was "trying" to say is that "I" took responsibility for these four, I alone, not this man or his merry band of misfits. 'Determined.' So, they are here and waiting; all I asked was that no harm come to them and that they forgo the use of chains. (Bodies began to move in the corners of her eyes.) I ask the same of you and the Lord to honour my request.
Watching and listening to the uncouth actions of the woman moving towards the high priest, guards all around inched forward, spears tilting, catching the sun's glare on their tips, and swords preparing to be unsheathed from their slumber. The gripping of skin and leather on cold steel warmed as they grasped around the poles and handles even tighter.
A female guard spoke out from the side.
Female Guard: You dare demand and act in such a vulgar way in front of his holiness! 'Furious.' And the threatening of the royal guardsmen of the guild to boot, shameful!
*MOVING OF STEEL AND ARMOUR.*
Men and women of the guard inched forward, a few hesitating but eventually following up with their movements, mirroring the men and women next to them. Even the royal guards themselves, snapping out of their daze, looked at the hilts of their swords, stopping to think twice, knowing more than what the people around them did of the woman in front.
It all came to an abrupt end as the wrinkled hand of the high priest rose up, once adorning the orange crystal; it was now holding the guards attention and movements, then returning back to his side, just as he did with the woman with the ring before, immediately reversing the unwanted but honourable advances of the guards around without saying a word.
Steel bodies and leather creaked back to their posts, returning their blank expressions to the people in front who caught sight of the show and drama unfolding more than it should.
Now the little man began to speak.
Brucknell: Please, please! 'Calm.' On a day this nice, it would be a shame to sully it with unwanted bloodshed or even add a new shade to these lovely streets. (Aimed at the guards.) I thank you all for your protection and the thought of my safety in your minds. 'Soothing tone.'
The high priest went quiet, waiting for all of the guards to return before talking on.
Bruckenell: Now... (Looking directly at Magio.) What gives you a right to even make demands of the "Royal Guard," let alone "me" or the coming "Lord." (Another thought popped into his, noticing the yellow flakes in the eyes of the woman—something coming together.)
Four people behind the landlady began to move closer together in a huddle. No longer wearing their armour or weapons. Amanda, Feryn, Rache, and Yervel were almost resembling a living yarn ball, quietly listening to the voices around them. A fear of the unknown and of embarrassment took hold of the four as the many eyes gazed upon them in their half-naked appearance, skin showing to the world; not even the comfort of the sun alleviated their woe.
*SLOW MOVING FEET FROM THE REAR.*
Leaving a dazed Byrnn on his own, a lone man to the back moved forward, his blank expression melding into something reminiscent of a widened smile.
A large hand fell on Amanda's shoulder in the same way it did to Magio's arm at the inn; it was Gonf, smiling at the worried face of the young adventurer, then at the others one at a time. Completely out of character, the tired guard, who wanted no part of their woes in the bar, pushed himself into it once more.
Before Amanda could reciprocate the gesture with her own broken smile, the woman in front was riling up, taking the attention of the four off of Gonf. Byrnn shivered a little hearing the loud voice, almost recoiling back like he did with the fist to his gullet.
All of them were listening to the woman speaking down to the man in front, giving the high priest no respect in her tone, while someone else ignored the tall woman and took a keen interest in Amanda.
Behind the high priest waiting for Magio's coming wrath, the little form in a dark cloak looked at the stone being held in Amanda's hands, seeing it being clutched to the young woman's chest, the cord tight around her fingers, like beads in prayer, hiding another set of necklaces underneath.
A faint purple light shimmered in Amanda's comforting hold, the light breaking through the gaps in her fingers; unseeing by the wielder of the stone, only one caught onto its beautiful glare, until something in the corner of the little forms vision moved from within the crowd, drawing the little cloaked figures attention away from the stone that died down to nothingness, back to the blackness of its seeable form, no longer shining.
Whoever was under the hood was now taking an interest in something, now deeply looking into the crowd for the first time and seeing the sea of flickering flames, some brighter than others, ebbing and flowing, the sight welling a sense of pain in her head that grew the more she looked on, ignoring the words of the conversation now taking place between the high priest and the tall woman who burned brightly.
One thing in particular peaked her interest—the one standing where the woman in the cloak once stood. A pitch black shape of a large form, towering over the people around it, abnormally tall in its height, not moving, just shimmering in the light of the day, absorbing the light of the people around it.
Whatever was standing in the crowd looked on with fixed purple glowing eyes that burned brighter, then dimmed as it squinted back, fixated on the cloaked figure's direction, and turned, looking to the street where the people came from and pointed.
The little cloaked form whispered something to the woman who was holding the box in her hands, calling for her attention and taking her eyes off of the black shadow just for a moment. When she returned her gaze to where it once stood before explaining what they saw, nothing greeted the strange sight of a lone dark shadow sticking out in the crowd of souls—only the sea of light returned, dancing like candles in the wind.
The pain in her head faded and a trickle of warmth came from the little figures nose.
The shadow was long gone and something in the distance was making its way to the people, rolling as it went.