Part III

I closed the door thinking of what I could do for the rest of the day. Hungrily my stomach growled. On my way to the kitchen I saw the half-eaten apple I dropped before I fell asleep. I picked it up and ate it, not wanting to waste food.

Walking to my favorite window, facing north I peered outside.

Nothing new. All is quiet.

It was late morning and I could tell that the sun was high in the sky.

You're supposed to be doing something right now. Can't you remember?

I stood there thinking. “No, what?”

Convention.

I almost slapped myself in the head for forgetting. One of the largest conventions was being held outside today only a mile from where I live.

Throwing the apple core out my window I walked over to my closet. Shuffling through some clothes I put on a middle class outfit. That way I would blend in with the crowd. Pausing I asked myself, “What was the convention for?”

I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with Karras.

“Huh, Karras.”

Karras. Another crazy psycho who started a religion. He is the founder of the group called the Mechanists. They’re like the Hammerites, but they tend to be more technological. I even heard somewhere that Karras is planning to rid the City of pagans and destroy the Hammers. I don’t really worry about it much. History proves that the Hammers always come out on top.

Walking outside I spotted a young upper middle class couple. They’re most likely fiancée or newly wed by the way they were talking.

“Will you buy me a present at the convention, sweetie?” The woman rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm as they walked.

“Sure, honey. What ever you want.”

“Oh, thank you!” She planted a kiss on the man’s cheek and they giggled.

I followed them down the unusually empty streets to the assembly.

A few minutes later I arrived at the convention, where I let the love sick man and his “honey” walk off 53 gold lighter.

The convention itself is about a dozen light brown canvas tents on plot of land that all circled around one main tent, twice as big as the others. The guards were a mix of City Watch officers in dark blue uniforms, and Mechanist soldiers in turquoise and gold uniforms. A guard was stationed at every corner of a tent and at the main tent there where twice as many stationed. A rough estimate, 60 guards over all.

Making my way through the crowd I picked up bits of gold as well as people’s conversations.

“...Karras has really out done himself.”

“-wished they’d go away.”

“Your servants did what? Oh m-“

“Hey! Watch where you’re going young man.”

I realized that last bit of dialogue was directed to me. Looking at the large man in upper class dress I quickly lowered my eyes and said, “Sorry sir, my bad!” I kept my head down and briskly walked away from him trying not to draw attention.

That was close. You have to be more careful.

I glanced back at the noble man as he grabbed his money purse to buy something. At that point I started to walk faster. Before I bumped into him I had stolen more than 500 gold from his pouch. Sure enough I heard him bellow,

“THIEF!”

Wincing at how loud he was yelling I ran away from the booth and out from under the tent. I was at the perimeter of the convention grounds. Looking back I could see two Blue Coats fighting through the mass of people, who had come over to see what the commotion was about.

I kept running down the street. Skidding I turned left down an ally with some stacked crates. Jumping behind the boxes I sat down and caught my breath. Sitting cross-legged I listened to the footsteps of the two guards come near.

“We’ll find you! Just you wait!” The City Watch guards were only a few yards away from where I sat.

“Damn. Where’d he go? I thought I saw him run here.”

“I don’no. Could’a been a cat or sometin’.”

“A cat? Ha. I wish you taffer. Though, it looks like he isn’t here.”

“Shouldn’t we look ‘round more?”

“Na.” The guard talking paused and sighed. “Let’s go back.”

“Soooooo…We gonna tell ‘em that ‘e got away?”

“No. We’ll tell them that, that. He ahh, he fell off a bridge or something!”

“Haha! Now’ll we won't get a fired again.”

The two voices grew faint as they gave up their search and walked back to the convention. I continued to sit, trying to figure what I was going to do next. Obviously if I went back to the convention they would recognize me. Though I could always go the Inn and chat with Penelope.

“Should I go investigate what the noise was, brethren?”

“No. We hath more important items to attend to.”

“Aye, you are right. Thy Builder's affairs are of the most importance.”

Far down the ally I heard some people discussing. The accent was clearly that of the Hammerites. On my hands and knees I peeked around the stacked boxes and could make out the figures of about a dozen Hammerites crowded around a door. There wasn’t much cover for me but I crawled towards them anyway.

Now hiding behind a wheelbarrow twenty feet away I watched the Hammers readying their bows and long, solid iron hammers.

A Hammerite Priest took a very tall Hammerite soldier aside to my left and spoke to him quietly. In front of me and to the right about a dozen other Hammerite soldiers, some with large iron hammers and some with crossbows stood in two straight lines waiting for orders. Shifting around so they wouldn’t see me, I crawled under the wheelbarrow and lay there with my stomach against the stone street, hands tucked to my sides.

The building they were standing by was only one story and very old. It looked like it might have been abandoned except that you could see faint light filtering through curtains in the glassless windows. The small structure was made of a mix of dark brownish black wood and light green wood. Parts of it were rotted out and you could see where some of the roof fell in.

The priest finished talking and the soldier walked back to the other Hammerites standing in front of the old building’s door.

“Archers are to stand guard of this door,” The Hammerite pointed at the door with his hammer, and then returned it to his side, “when I and the chosen go in and return what is rightfully ours!”

The archers didn’t say a thing. The soldiers with hammers stood in another straight line facing the archers on the opposite side of the rickety door, covering it as the Hammerite that was shouting orders walked up to it. He barked,

“Open the door!”

No one answered. With his gloved fist he pounded on the dark wood door, making it rattle and shake.

“In thy Builder’s name, open this door!”

Still no answer. The soldier stopped pounding the door with his fist and looked at the priest, who was standing about ten feet away. The priest tipped his head in a very small nod, and the soldier nodded back understanding. Taking his hammer he held it high over his head. With a short cry he brought his iron hammer down hard. The door was hit full force and shattered. Within seconds the priest and hammer wielding soldiers stepped over the wooden shards of the door as the archers lined up in a semi circle side-by-side, blocking the doorway.

Feeling a bit nervous I scrunched up my legs just to make sure that my feet weren’t visible.

From inside the small building I could hear the Hammers yelling, smashing, and “smiting” many things. After five minutes or so everything inside went quiet. I could just make out the priest yelling with an unsteady voice.

“Where is it? Where is the book, pagan?”

I could hear someone else shouting, but couldn’t make out their words. The priest yelled again. This time his voice was clearly racked with anger and frustration.

“No one steals from thy Builder, villain! No one!”

I heard the priest do a sort of battle cry and I saw a flash of light similar that to a flashbomb, though not as bright. I heard someone scream out in pain that was cut short by another blast of light. Shaken by the volume of the cry, I looked at the Hammerite guards outside. Their expression didn’t change, as if they weren’t bothered by the scream.

Guess they’re used to this.

Movement came from inside the building and the priest walked out. He looked very old and pale. Following him the rest of the Hammerite soldiers walked out. The Hammerite who smashed down the door came out last with a body rolled in a brown cloth, slung over his shoulder. The cloth wasn’t long enough and I could see the person’s head. He had sandy hair, dark circles under his open eyes, and a dark brown beard with no mustache. His mouth lay gaping, blood trickling down from the corners. The head hung limply and flopped side to side with every step the tall soldier took.

My stomach lurched and I had to close my eyes.

Trying hard not to throw-up I vaguely heard the priest say something about going back and submitting their report. The footsteps of the marching Hammerites ebbed and disappeared around the corner when I finally was able to open my eyes again.

It was almost dark now. Crawling out from under the wheelbarrow I dusted myself off and rubbed the back of my neck.

Want to see what’s inside?