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A Tale of Heroes (The Roleplay Thread)


Well-Known Member

Devin Brodd
Belpoint Square

“…And so, even knowing the consequences, this traitor chose to run away from his duties to the country. A country divided by war, with an uncertain future. Here on out, let this be a reminder to all those who take the oath to protect.”

A large crowd gathered within the square of Belpoint. Murmuring amongst each other, all eyes were glanced at the large wooden, scaffolded stage that was located right in the centre of the square. Usually it was used for public speaking, town meetings, and special events of the sort. However, on this sunny afternoon, it was gong to be used for an execution. Devin squeezed through a few people to get a closer look at the stage and more importantly, to get a closer look at the ‘offender’. Personally, Devin didn’t think leaving the line of battle should have warranted this big of a punishment, however, he knew as well as anyone that he shouldn’t question the rules. The man on stage who was in charge of the execution, was none other than Mayor Donol. A somewhat strict man, who was more on edge than ever now that the war was officially in full swing. He shouted, continuing to recite the wrongdoings of the victim, whilst several other people on stage stood around, the executioner included. He was a more slender man, however, his dark hood still made him the every bit scary and ominous to Devin. And it seemed like the victim did as well. Although no visible tears were in his eyes, he definitely had a more sombre, depressed look to his face, not even putting up a fight to defend himself. Suddenly, just as Devin was lost in thought at the speech, the crowd suddenly gasped and sparked a more scattered chatter throughout themselves. Devin looked to the stage, as the man waved his hand and signalled the executioner, who swung his blade. The blade fell, and sliced through the victim’s neck as smooth as Devin had ever seen. In that quick second, that build-up to the highlight of the morning was finished. People continued to talk amongst themselves, with others beginning to disperse and continue about their daily morning. Devin just stood for a brief moment, looking at the man’s lifeless head that dropped into a wooden bucket, dripping with red. In a world of violence and war, that sight definitely didn’t help the gloomy blanket that covered the city.

“Hey Devin…” A man tapped Devin on the shoulder, prompting him to turn around. Standing behind him was a stout, gruff looking man. Grey hair covered his head, along with a grey moustache. Devin recognized him as Lars Fior, otherwise known as Old Man Lars by the townsfolk. He was a nice enough man, although stuck in his olden ways. These days, the man really had nothing better to do other than waltz around town doing whatever he pleased. “Are you going to come by to fix my door later?” He asked Devin. “The darn hinge is getting worse by the say, I swear.” He mumbled.

Devin nodded in agreement, chuckling a bit. “Sure, I was actually just about to head over after the execution.” He responded. Devin grabbed his satchel that slung around his body, that contained his basic equipment for jobs like the one Lars needed.

“Excellent! I’ll walk with you. That little spectacle was probably the only notable thing happening all day, anyways.” Lars said, beginning to walk alongside Devin who remained silent. “Between me and you, they could have found another use for the man.” Lars looked up at the sky, almost as if he were thinking.

“Another use? Like what?” Devin responded.

“Well I mean, they didn’t have to kill him. These are stressful times we live in, and people want to know that their leaders are going to protect them. Not kill them.” The old man paused. “Whether the Mayor likes it or not, he can’t just kill someone when he gets scared or if something doesn’t go his way. Maybe that’s part of the reason we are in this mess, because of leaders like him.” Lars spoke with a bit more passion, seemingly trying to get something off his chest.

“Well, you have to be careful with how you speak. You can’t just say things like that openly.” Devin responded back, glancing around to make sure no whistleblowers were near by. “Besides, like you said, we live in stressful times. That means the Mayor must be stressed as well, no?” He said.

“What’s the worst that could happen to me?” Lars laughed unexpectedly, causing Devin to raise a brow. “Devin, I’ve lived my life. If he wanted to execute me for something, he can go ahead and do so. I’ve served and did my part for this world. The only thing I want to see at this point, is for this war to end. If I can see the end of that, then I’d be a happy man.” The old man paused, continuing to walk and think to himself. Despite being somewhat neutral in political affairs, even Devin could grasp the severity of what was going on in the country. If anything, he agreed with what the old man said, which could be said was rather uncommon.

Reaching the edge of city, echoes of shouting and loud noises could be heard. “Look.” Lars said, pointing at a small brick building, with several workers seemingly helping to construct it. Devin glanced around the area, and saw several small brick watchtowers surrounding the outside of the city. It was a weird sight, seeing views of lush grasslands and hills, and then seeing these out-of-place brick constructions.

“I guess that’s we are called Fort Belpoint now. We are starting to look more like a fortress.” Devin chuckled to himself.

“Apparently, the King himself has sent several parties to come and help out. Should be here any day now. More workers, more soldiers. They are really pushing this to become a pivotal city for war operations.” Lars watched the workers, seemingly daydreaming. Devin stood there watching them as well, pondering about what Lars had just told him. If this city was supposed to become a front for war operations, then that would certainly put a damper on everyone’s day to day life. He knew the royal capital was far away, so having another main city for the war would definitely aid in tactics and messaging of the sorts. However, Devin himself wasn’t sure if he was ready for something like that just yet.

Monster Guy

Fairy type Trainer
Jason Miller
Miller Farm > Belpoint Square

The sun was shining brightly in the morning, as Jason was busy doing work on the farm. He plowed the field using a cheap hoe, getting the land ready to plant crops. He wiped the sweat off his forehead after tilling each patch of land, Once the land was ready, Jason planted a variety of seeds in each of the sections he just plowed, the manually watered each and every one of them. Farming was a lot of work each and everyday, but Jason enjoyed it. There was nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done, and it put food on the table.

After he did all of that, his next job was to go to the market in the Town Square, and sell the crops and products his father had harvested. They had all sorts of things; they had various kinds of fruits and vegetables, as well as eggs and milk from the chickens and cows. He threw on his blue cloak, and pulled a wagon filled with all of their goods into the town square.

As per usual, the square was filled with people. Also as per usual, a lot of people were looking stressed and concerned. Why wouldn't they be? A war had been going on for a year now, and people were dying left right and center. Even his own twin had been killed. Something Jason didn't like to think about, but still came up every day. The town was in the process of being fortified, so at least something was being done about it... Still, he felt like there was still more that could be done...

If he could, he would zap Diaz with a well place jolt of lightning. The dictator would be dead, William would be avenged, and this whole mess would be over and done with in an instant! After all, what was the point of spending all this time studying magic if he couldn't do something useful with it. He knew that wasn't the wisest thing to do, it was only a thought.

He eventually found his way to the market, where his family already had their own little booth set up. This city was going to become home to a bunch of people aiding in war effort soon. Those people needed to eat, and the Miller family needed money. After setting up his wares, the booth was open for business. He shouted to anyone passing by that they were selling. "Miller Farm has the best fruits, veggies, eggs, and milk yer money can buy! I guarantee it!"
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Metallic Wonder
Salem of Morgrem
The Feathered Serpent @Belpoint Square


Why anyone would name a tavern "The feathered Serpent" was anyones guess. Place had nothing to do with either of the two words, nor was it even fancy enough to garner such a prideful name. Apparently, the name had come from a tale told in the early days of the taverns construction. Just some drunkard rambling on about his past adventures as a mercenary, and all the supposed mythological beasts he had encountered and slain, the "Feathered serpent" apparently being one of them. Salem knew the story well. Considering this was one of his most frequent workplaces lately, he had written a few poems about the name's origin, with a few exaggerations here and there; not that anyone would notice or even care if they did. As long as the story was exciting, and sung good, the patrons would pay, and at the end of the day that was all Salem really cared about at this point.

There weren't as many patrons at the tavern that day, for whatever reason. Due to the war-effort and the town's slow and steady transformation into a fully fledged fortress, the tavern had had a spike in costumers and new regulars the past few months. Salem hadn't had a workload like this in quite some time, and had managed to earn up a hefty sum of money from it. The downside to this all was that while it was now more difficult to enter the town due to its fortification, it was also equally as difficult for anyone to leave without proper clearances detailing the reasoning behind leaving, why you were there to begin with and your top 10 reasons for why Diaz is the worst leader in the world. Quite frankly, it was vexing, but Salem knew he would have to leave eventually. War was a dangerous time for a thief, even one living an honest ish living such as himself. Another pro to this was to meet all the new exciting people. All the new.. handsome strapping young soldiers. Due to the recent happenings, well over half the towns population were soldiers now, but they were luckily not recruiting, unless anyone volunteered. Salem knew of a few regular patrons that had volunteered to join the emperors forces. Mostly middle aged retirees looking for new purpose in life, or the clinically depressed. Regardless, while people's daily lives mostly went on as normal, there was a thick cloud of doubt hanging over everyone.

Speaking of thick clouds of doubt though. The door to the tavern was practically kicked in, and four soldiers waltzed in. It seemed everything was back to normal outside as well, by the sounds of it. The soldiers went over to one of the rounded tables in the corner of the tavern and signaled the barmaid to fetch them some whatever they were having that day. Well, seems like it's time to work. Salem picked up Veritas from the chair next to him and downed the last of his wine before effortlessly bouncing off the chair. Gently wandering around, he played a somber tune while listening in on the new arrivals. He knew two of the four soldiers:. Two men in their mid-20's. One from a previous visit and the other from a... previous visit. The new arrivals was an older-looking man and a tomboyish woman with a scar going vertically down the right side of her face, impressive enough for Salem to ponder whether or not she was a main character of some sort of incredible story. Staying close enough to catch their attention, yet far enough away in order for it not to be obvious, he made some subtle eye contact with.. Ugh what was his name again.. Mar.. Marcus? Yes! Marcus, with the pretty blonde curls! That's it. Making some suggestive eye contact with Marcus while playing up the beat on his harp a bit, it didn't take long before he was called upon.

"Aww, bard! You missed out on the fun!" The other man he had met before said, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder as he arrived by their table.

"Oh, i'm afraid i was stuck here, working." Salem answered in an apologetic tone, looking around him at the now filling tavern, hoping his alibi would stand. "What was happening out there? It went so quiet in here all of a sudden.". He knew what was happening outside. More victims of political circumstance.

As if reading his mind, the man answered. "Another execution. Mayor's really getting into his new role now." The man answered, taking a big gulp of.. beer?

"Trevor. Don't speak so freely about matters like this." the older man spoke up. He looked just as grizzled and experienced as you would expect, but despite his age, it was obvious there was plenty of fight left in him. The other man, Trevor, regained his serious posture. "Right.. Sorry, bard.".

"Nah, don't worry about it, I'm not one for unnecessary violence anyway." he said, looking dreamily towards a window while gently stroking Veritas to add to the effect. Marcus was practically drooling.

"Anyways, I'll have to make the rounds, it was a pleasure to see you again, Marcus." Salem said, taking Marcus' hand in his and giving it a polite kiss while boring his eyes into his. Marcus' knees were practically jelly right now, he knew it. "While i would love nothing more than for you to fix the hinges on my window right now, I have to leave." he then continued. He bowed gently and politely to the others. "Trevor, Old man, ... You." he then said, greeting them all in polite yet humorous fashion. "I'm Stu." the older man said. "And this is Elaine. She doesn't speak much. Cat got her tongue." Salem laughed until Elaine grunted and opened her mouth to reveal that she, in fact, did not have a tongue. "...... Righty then." Salem said and quickly backed off, walking towards the door while hearing Trevor voicing his confusion regarding how many times his window needed repair to Marcus. Stu sighed.

So nothing new had happened that day after all. Another execution of another nameless alleged war criminal. While it was still hard to believe the quaint town had become so military, it was almost even more alarming that the people were starting to grow accustomed to it. It was not all bad, of course, as per the display back in the tavern showed that businesses were blooming as a result of this. It was not just the tavern either, as local farmhands worked double as hard now to meet the new standards, making big money in the process, while the rich ran their mouths about how their children were joining the war efforts, even though at least half of them were followers of Diaz biding their time while playing up their very fluid loyalties. As if Salem was one to talk. Takes one to know one, as they said.

Another part-time job Salem had taken upon himself, if you could call it that, was to walk the now busier than ever streets while playing his harp and humming. The soldiers appreciated it, and the citizens had grown accustomed to it. He had had to lie to the ones giving him a hard time, telling him that he had been given orders to do so, and to oppose him would be equal in opposing the soldiers themselves. Why anyone would believe such an obvious lie is beyond him, but they did so anyway. Nobody seemed willing to take risks with the soldiers, especially after displays such as todays execution.
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Abigail Wealdharth
Belpoint Square

You shouldn't look away.

A man stood on his knees upon a wooden stage, gaze downcast. They hadn't even had the courtesy to blindfold him - Abigail could see fear pooling in his amber eyes. Next to him stood two other men; the executioner, and the Mayor.

They were both executioners, in truth. It just so happened that one did not need to swing the blade.

Even if you don't see it, it's going to happen.

The only thing louder than the murmurs of the people was the mayor's voice, spreading over the crowd like a blanket. It was heavy and smothering. By design, no doubt; had it not been, perhaps someone in the crowd could have found their voice and shouted in protest.

And then there would be two executions.

It's too late.

The mayor stopped speaking, and all eyes shifted to the hooded executioner. Hooded, because he was too afraid to show his face. But not too afraid to take a life.

He would've made for a poor soldier. Far more so than the man on his knees.

This is war.

The blade swung down. It took a life, and it seemed to take all sound with it. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the entire world stood still. No bird took flight. No child shouted. Even the tears welling in Abigail's eyes were frozen in place.

"... I'm sorry."

The silence shattered. All of a sudden, the world around her exploded with noise once more. The chatter from the nearby market, the whispers that spread among the dispersing crowd like a wildfire. Some were talking about what had happened as if it was gossip; others had already forgotten the man on the stage ever existed.

Abigail would never forget.

Even as the people around her left to go about their day, she remained in her spot, unmoving. Her fists were clenched, and her body trembled with withheld anger. She didn't cry, though. The soldier had not cried, even at the every end. What right did she have to do so? She had failed to save him.

You didn't fail, she reminded herself sternly, you didn't even try.

What good was a healer who didn't try to save someone dying right in front of her? Pathetic. She really was...


A sudden weight collided with Abigail's shoulder. She only remembered she'd carried a basket when her fists unclenched and it fell onto the ground with a soft thud. She crouched down as quickly as her dress would allow, hurriedly picking up her things.

"I'm sorry," she looked up, expecting to find whomever had collided with her - but all she found was the steady stream of passing townspeople, none of them aware of her presence. Whoever had bumped into her had probably not even noticed her.

By the time she had picked up the supplies she was supposed to deliver and turned back to the stage, she found it empty. Gone was the Mayor, the executioner and the soldier. All that remained was blood.

Abigail reached for the pendant hanging around her neck and clutched it to her chest. "May Lumia welcome you, weary brother," she whispered, head bowed. She did not know if the man had believed in any god, nor whether he had ever heard of hers. But it was all she could do for him now.

She looked down at her basket. ... She should be going. The stationed men needed their supplies.

With one final glance towards the stage, Abigail willed away her tears and turned away.
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Fire and Ice Combo
Barbara Berson
Belpoint Square -> the Marketplace


This morning was not starting out the best for the Berson household. While nothing was directly wrong with Barbara, her husband was feeling ill. It was not uncommon for Barry to fall sick because of his weaker constitution, but his illness had been recurring. The woman wasn't sure if it was due to them suddenly moving here or just the new atmosphere in general, but his body wasn't reacting well to it. Thankfully, the man complexion was looking better than it did yesterday when she returned from hunting. Taking a seat next to him in the bed, she placed her hand on his head and began to concentrate. A pale white light washed over him as the miracle magic was being cast on him. Barbara exhaled as she finished using the spell, hopefully, all she needed for this sickness. Wiping her forehead, she could feel slight sweat that her long bangs were clinging to.

"Sorry," the pale man apologized with a soft smile. "I'm... making do that a lot lately." He clenched his hands tightly together as he remained resting flat on the bed. His green-eyes looked up at Barbara with a remorseful gaze. The woman returned it with a stern glare.

"Oh, hush you," the redhead scoffed in response to the apology. The woman gave him a flick on the forehead. "I should be apologizing, making you eat that awful slop I cooked up."

"......It wasn't... that bad..." Barry responded hesitantly. The tone of his voice and the expression on the messy-haired blond man's face wasn't convincing. A smile appeared on her face at the worse attempt to hide how he really was feeling.

"Liar." Barbara chuckled with her retort. Barry laughed as well, filling the room was filled with the couple's joyful laughter. During her giggle fit, her eyes met another pair of green eyes standing at the doorway peering inside. Grinning widely, redhead made gestures to enter. "Come on over, Junior."

With that invitation, the young boy came inside went right to Barbara's side. The kid of eleven years had his Barbara's fiery colored hair and bronze skin tone along with Barry's green-eyes, freckles, and wild hairstyle. Their adorable son Barnard that they hated to admit, they both spoiled too much. He was a chubby boy but still the sweetest kid though timid.

"Are you feeling better, Daddy?" The kid inquired with worry in his voice. Barnard's eyes examined his dad as he attempted to figure it out on his own. The man went to a sitting position as he petted his son's head in reinsurance of his improving health. The boy accepted it and smiled back at him.

Her family was everything to Barbara, and in these dangerous times, she had to be ready to protect them. After some more conversing between the family of three, the redheaded mother decided to go out and sell some hides she had gathered and cured. She was also going to buy some necessaries as well. Rather than leaving both her son and husband at home, she brought Barnard with her. Holding his hand and guiding him down the street, Barbara noted the lovely day it was. As well as the troubling construction around Belpoint... It really made it sink in that there was a war going on somewhere outside of this place.

They were passing through the square where they saw people gathering. Barbara only had to glance at the stage to know what was going on. A public execution, the woman faced paled as currently regretted that she brought her son. Redhead, squeeze his hand tightly and began to yank him quickly through the square. Shocked by his mother's actions, Barnard asked her a series of questions. The replies he got were 'it's nothing' and 'don't mind that over there.' Barbara got through the square without them having to witness the end of that man. From she gathered from the mayor's list of offenses, the man was a war deserter. Was that really a good reason to kill him? Having lived her whole life in a small village, she just didn't understand.

She was slightly out of breath by her swift retreat. As she steadied her breathing, she looked down to find a pair of confused green eyes staring back. Barbara admitted that she might have overreacted but didn't want to expose her young son to such a sight. She smiled at him, but that didn't hide how troubled she was about the whole situation.

"Was that a bad man? Scary people were standing next to him." Her boy had caught something from their walk through the square but didn't quite understand what was truly happening.

"I cannot say, Junior. I do not know him personally." Barbara wasn't someone who judges people she didn't know. Much like people judged her for having a strong personality and not letting herself be pushed around as her being a bully. The man might have just been afraid, watching comrades be slaughter or maybe wanted to return to his family... the thought of that was heart-wrenching. But now wasn't the time, she shook off the feeling as looked at her son with a smile. "Let's go get some shopping done. You'll carry everything, right?" Barnard smiled back and nodded to her request.

Making a stop to sell off her own wares, mother and son began their gathering mission. Their first stop was a medicine shop since they were running a bit low. Then they started looking for produce, something was lost on the woman's low-level of cooking ability. There were many people out trying to push their wares on the passing residences. The redhead wasn't sure where to go, other meats, she didn't have a good sense for quality food.

"Miller Farm has the best fruits, veggies, eggs, and milk yer money can buy! I guarantee it!" Those words caught her attention, the family had bought stuff from the Miller Farm before. That seemed like her best bet to getting some good produce. She made her way over and just stared at all of the items... The chubby boy stuck himself behind her only and partly peeked around her at the family of farmers tending the stand.

"Uh... anything you recommend," Barbara sheepishly asked the tall blond young boy standing at the front of the booth. It was a mistake to sound so uncertain about what she wanted, but it was too late to take back her words now.


Why not both?
Linda Hartford
Crawford Farm (Belpoint Outskirts)

The kitchen was dimly lit, the sunlight leaking through the curtains illuminating some of the dust hanging in the air. The others were all out on the fields, and while Linda would’ve loved to join them, her adopted father of sorts had insisted that she lay of manual labour until she made a full recovery from her illness. She didn’t call him father, of course — that would be a little out of line — but reality was, he’d more or less taken on that role, and viewed her safety as his responsibility. As she ate, he sat across the table, sipping at a cup of cheap tea.

“Hey, Kite,” Linda said through mouthfuls of bread, managing to come off as nonchalant, “How would you feel about leaving Belpoint? Hypothetically, I mean.”

“Our family has owned this farm for generations,” the man replied, “So it certainly wouldn’t be easy. My wife, especially, would probably rather die.”

“Ah,” Linda murmured.

“It might come as a surprise to a gypsy like you,” Kite continued, a kind smile on his face that softened the harsh edge those words usually possessed, “But for us, this land means more than almost anything. We owe our lives to it. No matter where we are, it will always be our home. To us, leaving a place — especially somewhere like this — isn’t something that comes naturally.”

“That’s nice,” she smiled — and she meant it. “Maybe I’ll start feeling that way eventually.”

At that, the man let out a hearty laugh, “I do hope so.”

There was a short pause. “I hear a deserter is going to be publicly executed today,” Kite offered, “Would you like to watch?”

Linda did her best to hide her instinctive grimace. “No,” she said, “I don't really like that sort of thing.”

“That’s what I thought,” the man replied, his tone solemn, “But there are those who like it, so I thought it was worth asking. My wife and I will take Kieran to see it, so would you mind watching Jessie for us while we’re gone? She’s a little… young to see things of that sort, but for Kieran, well, we think it’d do him some good. It's the kind of thing that every man needs to see at least once in their life."

What good? She wanted to ask, but she bit back her thought. She’d seen a thief get executed once, for stealing the wrong thing from the wrong person. She’d been passingly familiar with the man. As far as she was concerned, there was no good in taking the life of what was typically a person who was more desperate and scared than evil. A deserter -- who could blame them? Most people who'd watch the man die had never seen a war. They would look down at him with contempt as he died.

Perhaps the anger she felt was only just envy — envy that these people had never experienced what it was like to be at death's door. Once you do, it becomes hard to see a life taken, let alone to see such an act be encouraged rather than condemned. She was no philosopher, and she wouldn't go as far as to label things with words like right or wrong.

But it did make her stomach churn.

“I’m glad you trust me so much,” she replied, with another smile, “Yeah, I’ll watch Jessie.”

The conversation stopped there. Eventually, Kite stood and went out to join his family in the fields, leaving Linda alone in the kitchen. She tidied up the plates and cutlery, preparing to take them down to the stream to wash later. As she did so, she took a moment to make things clear to herself, spelling out the simple reality. She could not risk getting too attached to this family. Once war came to Belpoint — and it certainly appeared to be coming — she would have no choice but to leave, to flee like she’d been doing for so long, and it was clear now that they wouldn’t leave with her. As always, all good things must eventually be lost, and she thought it’d be best to start preparing for that as soon as she could.

Maybe I'll try and teach Jessie the lute, she thought to herself. The young girl was good with her hands, and would certainly make a good musician. She might even leave her own instrument (well, it wasn't really her's, but...) behind for her. That way, once she inevitably leaves the family to seek shelter elsewhere, a part of her will remain here in this cozy little world. That way, whenever Jessie plays a song in the future, she'll think of her. The thoughts are warm, and she smiles. What should we start with? A nursery rhyme would be good — ah, wasn't there one about animals on a farm?


Well-Known Member
Devin Brodd
Belpoint Square

“There, I think that should be good.” Devin wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead, staring at the work he had just completed. It may not have been a particularly difficult job to perform, but he was satisfied for accomplishing it.

“Oh, that looks good!” Lars approached the door, and swung it back and forth a bit, to see if the job had been done correctly. “No more sound, and it opens great!” He exclaimed, looking at Devin. “I appreciate the help. If there’s anything I can do for ya, just let me know.” He smiled. He appreciated the trouble that Devin went through to help him fix his door, however, Devin was generally happy to help out for things like that.

“That’s alright, Lars, I’m happy to help.” Devin bent down and picked up his things and put them back into his satchel, and then turned to look Lars once more. “Anyways, I should be heading out, I have a bit more to do for the day before I call it.” He said, stepping outside, to reveal the familiar sun and semi-cloudy day. He then suddenly turned his attention to the sounds of chattering filling the air. Looking around, Devin couldn’t figure out where exactly they were coming from, until he saw some nearby tower workers pointing north, down the beaten path that led right out of town. Lars peered out from behind Devin, taking a glance at the commotion.

“Who…are they?” Devin questioned. Everyone stopped to stare at several horse carriages, trotting down the beaten path. There were probably 3 carriages total, each pulled by horses, with Devin estimating around 25 people in total being carried across all the carriages.

“That must be the first group of workers coming to help!” Lars exclaimed.

“First group? How many groups are there supposed to be?” Devin wasn’t expecting this many people to arrive, and if it was only the first batch of people, then the townsfolk could be expecting many more.

“I have no idea. Several groups of them, from what I’ve heard.” Lars shrugged. Devin sighed, watching as the carriages slowed down by the time they reach one of towers that was under construction, next to the beaten pizza. He began walking towards the carriages, where people began to gather, including some of the workers that were already there.

“Commander Bolther, at your service.” A middle-aged man suddenly stood up, and stepped off the carriage introducing himself to the people watching. His hair was very short, blonde, and he was wearing rather formal attire. His tunic was a beautiful red with gold buttons, and a gold sash that slung across his body and then wrapping around his waist almost like a belt. Gold shoulder pads, light brown breeches and long black boots topped off his look. He definitely looked like he came from nobility, or at the very least, looked important. “Well? Don’t just stand there, someone say something!” He shouted.

“Uh, Commander Bolther, sir!” A worker suddenly darted towards the man, standing firmly in front of him and straightened out his posture before speaking to the Commander again. “Welcome to Belpoint, sir!” He said.

“Glad someone finally gave me a greeting.” Bolther responded, looking at everyone around that was watching. “Anyways, are you going to give me the tour? I would have thought the Mayor was going to personally meet us. I have a lot of people with me, so I assume that there’s also housing arrangements that have already been made?” Bolther said.

The worker drew a blank on his face, unsure of what to say. It was clear nobody was expecting the first group to arrive so early, let alone the Mayor. “Um, unfortunately the Mayor was not expecting you to arrive so soon.” He paused. “But I’ll give you guys the tour of the town!” He said, quickly covering his ground. Bolther let out a smile, delighted to hear that their presence wasn’t a burden.

“Splendid! Hop aboard, and you can direct us where to go.” Bolther said, pointing to the carriage. He hooped back on, alongside the worker, and looked at everyone as they began to start moving towards town. “Theres going to be changes around here, so you all better get prepared.” Bolther said, as they headed off. Devin just looked Lars in confusion.

“Changes? What kind of changes?” He asked.

“Beats me. But I don’t like this Commander. Did he seem odd to you?” Lars asked Devin, making sure to speak quietly.

“Not really. Nothing really struck me as odd. Why?” Devin responded.

“Just…wondering.” Lars stood there in thought, watching the carriages slowly move off towards town, getting smaller and smaller as they got further away.


“Yes, yes, I know! Can someone please just make sure everything is in order! If word gets back to the King that we aren’t up to par, it’ll be bad for all of us.” The mayor paced hastily through town with several guards trailing behind him, blindsided by the fact that the first group coming to help with fortifying the city, would be arriving today. In fact, they had already arrived, and so he wanted to be there in person to greet them.

“Sir, take a minute! We need to discu - ” One of the Mayor’s advisor’s paced quickly next to him, pressuring the man to settle down just for a second to think things through. However, Mayor Donol was a man that didn’t bother himself with small details. The group arrived today, and he knew he had to be there. As they approached the town square, the townsfolk were continuing to do their daily business after the execution, when suddenly the sounds of hooves began filling the air of Belpoint. “Oh, they are already here, Mayor!” The advisor exclaimed, watching as the carriages slowly but surely moved towards the square.

“Okay, let’s stop here.” The Mayor said nervously. He stood there at the centre of the square with his advisor, as the townsfolk watched the scene unfolding in front of them. The carriages gradually came to a stop. After a few seconds, Commander Bolther hopped off the carriage again, with the worker from earlier also jumping off, both of them approaching the Mayor and his advisor. “Commander Bolther, pleased to meet you. I’m Mayor Donol, and this is my loyal advisor, Hemphry.” He spoke, with Hemphry doing a slight bow as his greeting.

“Likewise.” Bolther responded in a rather harsh and serious tone, not looking at the Mayor in the eye, but rather, at his surroundings. He glanced at his surroundings in silence for an awkward few seconds, until looking at the Mayor again. “Tell me Mayor. Are you worried about the war?” He suddenly asked. The Mayor stood there, a bit stunned before responding.

“Y-Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” He said.

“Then, why is everyone still going on about their daily business?” Bolther responded fast, almost as if he already knew what the Mayor was going to say. “People selling produce, open taverns, townsfolk mingling with each other, like everything is normal!” Bolther shouted, pointing around the square at the innocent people going on with their daily errands, and work. “Clearly, you do not care. You were told WELL ahead of time, that we needed to fortify this place. When I came into town not too long ago, what I saw out there, was nothing short of saddening.” Bolther pointed towards the outer part of the city, referencing the half-built towers and weak support barriers.

“C-Commander, people need to make money. The war doesn’t mean they leave their jobs.” The Mayor responded, clearly shaken up by the Commander’s comments.

“Actually, it does. Until this war is over, everyone’s responsibility is to help out. There’s going to be NO jobs, if we lose this city. Are you that daft, that you couldn’t comprehend that?” Bolther stepped closer to the Mayor before speaking again. “Pointless executions, half-assed workers, is there anything else I should know about before I handle things?” Bolther stared right at the Mayor and his advisors, who clearly felt the man’s intimidating presence.

“I-I’m sorry…handle things?” The Mayor questioned, confused at the commander’s statement.

“You’re officially stepping down. Until this ordeal is sorted out, I’m going to be taking charge of this city. If you have a problem with that, maybe we can execute you too.” The Commander taunted the Mayor by patting him on the shoulder, who just stood there in shock. “You there, take us to City Hall. I’m assuming that’ll be our quarters for our duration.” Bother said, pointing to Hemphry. The advisor looked at the Mayor. He was sweating profusely, almost quaking. And then he looked at Bolther and quickly nodded.

“Of course, sir. I have everyone’s resting quarters ready to go. We also have a War Room, to discuss meetings and courses of action.” He said.

“Glad to hear someone has been doing their job. Come.” Bolther quickly hopped back onto the carriage with Hemphrey, who stared at the Mayor as they began to leave Belmont Square and head for City Hall, with the guards following suit.

I can’t believe it. Just like that… The Mayor thought to himself, with an expression of worry on his face. The town he fought so hard for, and tried to make it as lawful as possible, was suddenly gone from his control, all from the words of the King. The Mayor glanced around and saw some of the townsfolk watching him like hawk. Or so it seemed. “What are you lot looking at?! Get back to work, or whatever it is you were doing!” He shouted out of frustration.

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