A
Ampoule
Guest
The upward climb in the destruction of livestock, homes and livelihoods were dogged close behind by a rise in the inevitable; namely, the rise in crimes both small and terrible. Desperate times made already desperate people dangerous.
". . ."
While Leonardo's bandages offered him a sense of expressional anonymity, Mel's own face provided the same protection, minus the cloth strips.
The woman sat with her bare hands folded neatly on the table in front of her, the calm that surrounded her like the stagnant air heralding an oncoming storm. The lawlessness in their beloved city was rising and soon it would tear itself apart.
Dragons would not be the only source of fire and blood in Gothenheim unless more was done to appease the turmoil within its walls before turning their attention to those without.
Did these highborn fools not see the obvious beyond their own overflowing trenchers and blinding glints of polished silver?
The food in front of her sat untouched. Only the loaf of soft, fine bread before her showed any signs of attention, having absently been picked apart.
"Milord." Melody spoke finally, her pale grey eyes rising upward ever so slightly, though still focusing on nothing in particular. She had not been witness to the battle, having been still beneath the streets deep within the prisoner's quarters. The rumbling had caused small showers of dirt to rain down, the deep rumbling of impacts and howls echoing even into the stone depths of her domain. Only later had she emerged to survey the damage and to give aid to the wounded.
"What hands will catch these larger animals…and for whom will you build these stronger homes for…if only for phantoms? The people are uneasy; though not for lack of our trying…but a fighting force can only do so much to ease their fears. They need reassurances by something other than a roaming pack of swords and arrows. They will want to be soothed by their king. The guarantee of sharp blades is not always as assuring as a steady, protective hand. We may be the guardians of Gothenheim…but Gothenheim will tear itself apart from within unless something more is done."
The woman's fingers slowly laced together, the grip of her hands visibly tightening on one another, her pale eyes seeming to darken to the angry hue of clouds swollen with rain.
"I would not go so far as to suggest leaving these flying lizards to do as they please, but Gothenheim cannot be left unprotected. If anything, it provides us with an advantage. The dragons may be an invading force…but they invade a territory we know like the back of our own hands. We've already dispatched one of the beasts, which has given us invaluable information on their abilities..."
The only problem would be that though they MIGHT be able to dispatch a dragon with less difficulty…the reason why their attacks were increasing was another problem entirely.
". . ."
While Leonardo's bandages offered him a sense of expressional anonymity, Mel's own face provided the same protection, minus the cloth strips.
The woman sat with her bare hands folded neatly on the table in front of her, the calm that surrounded her like the stagnant air heralding an oncoming storm. The lawlessness in their beloved city was rising and soon it would tear itself apart.
Dragons would not be the only source of fire and blood in Gothenheim unless more was done to appease the turmoil within its walls before turning their attention to those without.
Did these highborn fools not see the obvious beyond their own overflowing trenchers and blinding glints of polished silver?
The food in front of her sat untouched. Only the loaf of soft, fine bread before her showed any signs of attention, having absently been picked apart.
"Milord." Melody spoke finally, her pale grey eyes rising upward ever so slightly, though still focusing on nothing in particular. She had not been witness to the battle, having been still beneath the streets deep within the prisoner's quarters. The rumbling had caused small showers of dirt to rain down, the deep rumbling of impacts and howls echoing even into the stone depths of her domain. Only later had she emerged to survey the damage and to give aid to the wounded.
"What hands will catch these larger animals…and for whom will you build these stronger homes for…if only for phantoms? The people are uneasy; though not for lack of our trying…but a fighting force can only do so much to ease their fears. They need reassurances by something other than a roaming pack of swords and arrows. They will want to be soothed by their king. The guarantee of sharp blades is not always as assuring as a steady, protective hand. We may be the guardians of Gothenheim…but Gothenheim will tear itself apart from within unless something more is done."
The woman's fingers slowly laced together, the grip of her hands visibly tightening on one another, her pale eyes seeming to darken to the angry hue of clouds swollen with rain.
"I would not go so far as to suggest leaving these flying lizards to do as they please, but Gothenheim cannot be left unprotected. If anything, it provides us with an advantage. The dragons may be an invading force…but they invade a territory we know like the back of our own hands. We've already dispatched one of the beasts, which has given us invaluable information on their abilities..."
The only problem would be that though they MIGHT be able to dispatch a dragon with less difficulty…the reason why their attacks were increasing was another problem entirely.