Retirement, Part Three

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

[Amandine] Retirement, Part Three.

By EM Bennu

The sun had begun to rise, but the cocks had not yet started to crow. She knew she would have to find some clothes, but maybe she would be able to make it to Adamu’s house in Magincia before the guardsmen would be able to pick their jaws up off the ground. Her sauntering out of Britain naked would make her point perfectly. Dupre and the Court of Truth had seemingly taken everything from her. Her ring and her necklace, her lands and her title, everything that could be taken had been. She walked proudly through the street and walked to the bank more out of instinct than anything.

“I… I am sorry Lady Amandine, your vault has been sealed by Lord Dupre. I cannot…” The banker had stammered while trying to look at her face and not lower.

She didn’t respond simply continued to walk toward the moongate. Her nerve and guile began to soften with the chill in the air. What am I supposed to do? Pick up farming? Become a seamstress? I know nothing about either one of those.

She had been raised as a knight not a Lady.

Would anyone even buy a poorly made dress from a convicted murderer?

She doubted it.

As she passed the fighters guild an old man approached her, in his hands he had a dress and a backpack of food.

“Lady Amandine, are you alright? I saw you coming up the road.” He said as he handed her the supplies. “The dress was my wife’s. She… uh… well she is gone now, passed last month.”

The old man was a kindly sort, a gentleman untouched by the wave of greed and lunacy that had swept the land. Still he was a peasant, one of the lower class that seemed to be totally drawn in by Dupre’s persona and championing of the people. She was surprised he was helping her at all.

“I thank you for the clothes sir, I have nothing with which to pay you. I have nothing in this world any longer… and I may not be long for it.” She spoke kindly but sadly, for the first time vocalizing what was in her heart. The old man simply smiled at her and winked.

“We do not all turn our backs on our friends and heroes when the winds change M’Lady. Some of us stay true to the steady stream, rather than the occasional wave.” He whispered in her ear before he returned to his home. As he reached for the door handle, she could have sword she saw an ouroboros on his ring finger.

The dress was far from a good fit for Lady Amandine, whoever the previous owner had been was a full foot shorter and a whole person wider than she. Still, it covered her and had been given to her honestly. The act of taking charity even clothing disgusted her.

On her way out of the city she witnessed two burglaries, three acts of illegal street gambling, and one act of public depravity. None of her business, none of them even looked at her. To them she was just another peasant.

None of it was her concern, the people had spoken. They no longer wanted her, or did they? She had seen the pain in the faces of her Knights as the court pronounced judgment upon her. She heard the cries in the courtroom of relief when they had shown mercy and not condemned her to execution. She felt bad for Faeryl. The sacrifice she had asked for from Faeryl may have been too much. But even though the request went against everything she believed, Amandine had known that Faeryl would give an honest and valid argument against her. Faeryl always put duty above her personal feelings. That is what made her a good knight, the same lesson that Simeon had taught her, she had taught to Faeryl and maybe others had picked up the lesson as well.

Duty is more important than anything, it is that same sense of duty that kept Danica from fleeing trial, that kept Faeryl in her prosecutor’s chair, and had given her cause to kill… now murder, Reddish to get at Jimmy the Pepper. The mantle of duty was heavy, and could cost someone everything, as what had happened to her.

Danica had only just stepped through the moongate on Magincia when she heard a faint and muffled scream from the north, away from the city. As she turned instinctively she recognized the scene, rioters had taken a hold of a young girl, a total innocent. The mob used the excuse of civil unrest to take liberties and enrich their homes. As the waves of Anarchy crashed on the various cities many peasants has been robbed, abused, killed or worse.

The scene was familiar. A young girl, torn clothes, a small mob of five men standing over her with darkness in their eyes. A look of total terror on the girls face, her hands covering her eyes, not wanting to see what was about to happen to her.

Danica was unarmed, not that it mattered. These rioters had no idea the monster of war that stood against them.

“You gentlemen should go home, this isn’t the place for romantic encounters. Such things are best left for candlelight dinners and long walks in the park. Wouldn’t you agree?” Danica couldn’t walk past this. She may have been a private citizen now, but that would not keep her from doing the right thing.

“Look at this Ray, little strumpet wants some too! Don’t worry lass, there be more than enough to go around!” The man made a step toward her a war axe in hand, Danica barely moved, her slight movement so fast and precise that the man crumpled in pain with a broken knee and shattered jaw, his weapon fell to the ground. The other four came at her all at once, each of them armed with typical weapon of banditry, a club. She made short work of all four of them, leaving all of them alive but in pain and broken in ways they would never recover from fully.

Danica helped the girl up, and although she seemed grateful the girl ran quickly toward town.

Danica looked around at the predators that surrounded her, these were the type she hated. Opportunists, men you wouldn’t think could commit acts such as these, but once nothing stood between them and their depravity, as soon as they were unbound in their desires, the instant they could break free from the politeness of civility they showed their true selves. These were the men too cowardly to live their lives honestly; instead they skulked in corners and shadows waiting for the perfect opportunity to commit their crimes secretly.

Part of her wanted to kill each and every one of them, but that was how she got into this mess in the first place. Trash needed to be removed, but the trash would pile up if she were put in jail again… or worse.

Danica looked toward town, she knew Adamu would be waiting for her. He would give her the same speech, the same argument, only now Adamu had stepped up and carried the mantle of the establishment, he would demand she follow the rules. Lecture her on Virtue, and try and express the poorly formed opinion that people were inherently good and would, all things being equal take the honorable and good path if given the choice. These men were a prime example, some people are born evil. She did not need to know the hue of the dark and twisted threads that make up the fabric of evil. She only needed to know that evil was evil, and needed to be destroyed.

Danica turned and picked up the war axe from the ground next to one of the men still writhing and floundering in pain. It was well made, likely plundered from the private armory of some noble family. An heirloom that had been stolen and then used in crimes below its station.

Danica heard a voice in her head, it was her sister. “This is our land; we do not need a title or a royal proclamation to give us permission to defend it. Stand up and do what is right sister, this is not the end.”

In her hand a weapon, she turned it on end and smashed the blunt against the forearm of each of the men shattering the bone.

“Cowards and pathetic deviants, next time I will cut them off." She kept her voice calm and low.

Danica turned away from Adamu and Magincia, jumping into the moongate instead. Her path lay elsewhere, a different ideal. Virtue was for the masses, it kept good people in check, it kept polite society polite. But for those that were far from good, for the evil thread which ran through society, The predators, Virtue gave them a place to hide. A White robe to hide the evil within.

Danica thought of something she read in a book once, something in the library of the old king...

"'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself."

Virtue was wasted on those who were all-together evil inside. Maybe what Britannia needed was someone who was willing to do the dirty work, someone who would keep pulling on that black thread to unravel the seam before it could take hold.

Duty demanded a different course.