[NaNo 2020] The Land After Miscreants (working title)

“Besides,” said Gerhard “You certainly would not know them very well.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Golzar. She sat up and pushed herself off onto the ground. “What I do know is that we cannot have heroes running around doing whatever they want. Do you see what this is?”

She pulled a piece of fabric from her pocket. It was a pale blue. “If I’d not realized it was Bryn and the Lions, I would have cut the rider’s arm off.”

Inside the Guild Hall, it was bright and cheery. The glow of the fireplace flooded the dining hall. Ariga and her companions were sitting around a table, drinking ale and swapping stories. At least, they were until the messenger arrived.

A rain-drenched man came in to read out an edict from Queen Lucretia.

“We have long observed the proceedings amongst the Heroes’ Guild, which were known to be excellent far and wide, but have thus far shown no sign of that repute. From this point on, those who refuse to wear a distinguishing mark and as it develops, a concescrated uniform, will face expulsion from our services.”

Ariga turned to Medea. Her second-in-command was a short woman with blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She gave her commander a concerned look, chestnut eyes glowing in the light.

“First of all,” said Ariga, once the messenger had scuttered out of the room. She was scowling. “He did not knock.”

William struggled to find the words he wanted. As he stood there, alone, the thick mantel bounded by his Guild Chief pin becoming suffocating in the darkness of the building, he found it was hard to describe why exactly he had had such a strong reaction to the uniform policy. Was it a Guild tradition that the heroes not wear uniforms? Not particularly, because many of them wore something of a uniform in the set colours for each party's standards and shield markings, even if some of them deviated from it.

No, what William wanted was the Guild tradition of not being controlled by the crown, which was hard to convey, when the crown was sitting in front of you looking extremely unimpressed.

“I cannot believe this,” said Bryn in an acrid tone. “You know me as the scoutmaster and yet forget the whole duration of the war.”

“The hell are they talking about?” said the Lion to one of their companions, who only offered a shrug.

Bryn went on regardless. “The Lions lay in swampy territory, with no food and little water, for nearly two weeks at the height of the war.”

They approached the group, Dapple’s hooves clopping sharply against the ground. “And now you cannot put up with a change of clothes.”

When Golzar caught up with them, Ariga drew one hooked blade out from its sheath. Mirroring her, Golzae did the same with her arming sword.

Their horses circled each other.

“Hiya, Golz’!” said Ariga with a forced sheer. “Whatever are the chances?”
“They say there are no accidents when it comes to love,” said Golzar with a sarcastic quirk of the brow.

Medea, worried, drew her crossbow and aimed it at Golzar’s leg. She turned expectantly to Ariga.

“No, don’t shoot,” said the Seafolk captain.

Golzar looked at her up and down, seeing how both blades remained unused and yet the square was empty. After a second’s thought more, she resheathed her arming sword. “Come with me. I must show you something.”

Ariga let out half a laugh. “Golzar, I’m in the middle of commanding a riot.”

“Riots don’t need commanders,” said Golzar. “Come on.”