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Chapter 85: The Serpent In The Square
The morning dawned heavy with unease. No birds sang above the rooftops, and even the merchants, who once filled the square with their cries, spoke in hushed tones, their stalls half-shuttered. The rebellion of the past nights had left scars not only on the streets but in the hearts of the people.Clara felt it in the air as she stepped out of the council hall. The silence of mistrust was louder than any shout. Whispers trailed her like a cloak, scraps of words carried by the breeze: “She lies… Michael is gone… hope is dead…”Jonathan fell in step beside her, hand on the hilt of his blade. His sharp eyes darted across the gathering crowd. “They look at you as though you were their gaoler, not their guardian,” he muttered.Clara’s jaw tightened. “Then we must remind them who we are. Not lords above them, but people among them.”Jonathan’s voice was low, grim. “And if they will not listen?”“Then we must make them see.”---By midday, the square filled. The scribe had seen to that. He st
Chapter 84: Blood And Iron
The clash came like thunder. Steel slammed against steel, arrows hissed overhead, and the cries of men rose in a storm of agony and rage. The battlefield became a furnace where hope and despair melted into one.Michael fought at the front, where the danger was fiercest. His sword was no longer polished silver but a streaked thing, dark with blood, chipped at the edge, yet it sang in his hands with grim purpose. Every swing was a prayer, every block a vow—if his men must die, they would not die alone.The enemy pressed hard, ranks upon ranks, their armor gleaming, their numbers overwhelming. Yet Michael’s line did not break. Exhausted, starving, outnumbered three to one, they clung to their ground like wolves cornered with nothing left but teeth.“Hold!” Michael’s voice tore from his throat. He struck down one foe, then another, his body screaming with pain but his will unbending. “For the city! For your brothers!”Haran fought beside him, his axe a whirlwind. “They’re trying to split
Chapter 83: Shadows On The Battlefield
The battlefield stretched like a graveyard under a steel-gray sky. Charred wagons lay splintered across the plain, arrows bristled from broken shields, and the stench of blood mingled with smoke that clung stubbornly to the air. The wind carried with it a low moan—the sound of wounded men, scattered and forgotten, each cry a fading plea to heavens that no longer seemed to listen.Michael stood among them, his armor battered, the crest long obscured by mud and blood. He leaned on his sword like a crutch, breath harsh, his body a map of bruises and shallow cuts. Around him, his company—the remnants of what had once been a proud host—gathered in ragged silence.Fewer than a hundred remained. Once they had been a thousand.He scanned their faces. Hollow-eyed, starved, burned by both sun and frost, yet still they looked to him. Not because he was invincible—his limp betrayed his weakness—but because he had not abandoned them. He ate what they ate, bled as they bled, fought where they fough
Chapter 82: Ashes Of Trust
The city had not slept.The echoes of steel on stone, the cries of the wounded, and the bitter smoke of torches still lingered in the streets. Dogs barked uneasily at shadows, and mothers clutched their children close, whispering prayers into the night air that carried the faint, acrid tang of blood. By dawn, the cobblestones bore the scars of the night’s violence. Though water had been thrown across the square, crimson streaks clung stubbornly, like bruises that no scrubbing could erase.Silence hung heavy over the city—not the silence of peace, but of exhaustion, fear, and waiting. Every shuttered window seemed to hold a pair of watching eyes. Every alley seemed to conceal a whisper.Clara stood at the balcony of the council hall, her gaze fixed on the square below. She wore no jewels now, no bright gowns. Her dress was plain, her hair tied back, as if she wished to make herself one with the weary people. And yet she could feel their eyes on her. Not with admiration, not even with h
Chapter 81: Fire In The Streets
Clara’s words echoed through the council chamber long after the meeting had ended. Michael fights even now. And soon—soon he will return. It was the promise she clung to, the thread that kept her upright when fear clawed at her chest. But outside those walls, the city stirred like a hive struck by a stick.By midday, the whispers had become shouts. Citizens gathered in the square, shouting against hunger and broken promises. Banners hastily painted on rags waved above the crowd: Bread, not lies! and Down with the council!The guards, restless and divided, stood uncertain at the edge of the swelling mass. Some raised their shields, as duty demanded. Others lowered their eyes, as if ashamed. And a few, Clara noticed with a sinking heart, stood among the crowd instead of against it.At the center, the scribe lifted his arms, his voice carrying above the roar.“People of the city! How long will you starve while they sit fat in their halls? How long will you pray to a phantom who does not
Chapter 80: The Spark Of Rebellion
The city had grown restless. Hunger gnawed at bellies, and doubt gnawed at hearts. Though the council kept the walls strong, and Clara gave voice to courage, the whispers seeded by the scribe had spread like a sickness. And sickness, if not cut away, soon festers into rot.That evening, in a candlelit chamber beneath the tavern, the scribe gathered his followers once more. His voice, smooth as silk but edged like a blade, carried across the table.“You have seen it with your own eyes,” he said. “The girl speaks of hope, but she offers no bread. The council speaks of Michael, but they cannot summon him. And while we suffer, they dine in their halls and drink from their cups.”A murmur of agreement swept the room.The scribe leaned closer, lowering his voice until it became a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think Michael fights for you? No. He fights for himself. And when the enemy comes, he will throw open the gates and embrace them as brothers. I tell you—our true enemy is not outside
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