Spoiler! :
There still hasn't been much change to the story yet, but I promise it's coming. Any advice is welcome. Thanks in advance.
A tavern had closed an hour early. Last month it had been a smithy. Another had been a merchant shop. Next was supposed to be a seamstress' business.
For all intents and purposes, it was holding no business. The seedy characters that normally haunted its entrance had been chased off. The tables were wiped clean. The chairs were upside down on top of the tables. Only one who knew what to look for would notice the fourth chair was missing from random tables. The candles had been snuffed out and were missing from others.
What one couldn't see through the dirty front window would be revealed if one followed the woman hurrying towards the business.
She glanced around to see if there was anyone who could witness her doings. She opened the door when she had made sure the street was clear. Weaving through the maze of tables, she made her way to a back room. A faint light made its way under the door. She looked over her shoulder through the window, checking once again for an observer. Quickly, she entered the room, sacrificing her cloak after the door was closed to conceal the light
The small room was filled with warm bodies and loud voices as everyone glanced at the front of the room. Four candles sat in the corners of the room, barely illuminating the entire area. The candle light glinted off of sweat covered skin and added their heat to the stifling atmosphere. Whispers came from all over, "Did you hear?"
"...Six more..."
"...Actually came into the light..."
A man stood at the stairs that led up to a make-shift stage and listened to the conversations around him. Finally, after a grunt from another, he straightened his clothing and strode to the podium. He smiled as silence immediately fell upon the congregation and cleared his throat. Looking down on the dirty, tired faces of his followers, he felt the need to overthrow the Empire grow as it did every meeting. "I suppose we're all wanting the news on the Masquerader."
A large man with a red face and beard to match laughed and replied in a thunderous voice with the rough accent of the southern peasantry, "Ever'one already knows. The old boy killed a couple more and actually got his hands a little dirty this time. Let's get this show on the road, Camden."
Murmuring burst from the room at this statement.
Camden let the people talk for a few moments, a bit unhappy with the lack of organization but unwilling to do much at the moment with no real plan in place as of yet, before the same red bearded man motioned him to continue. "Quiet!" he shouted and reveled in the complete attention everyone gave him. Not even he was immune to the songs of power, and it scared him late at night when he woke in a cold sweat, dreams of sweet tyranny still clear.
He studied the familiar faces of his followers and glanced at the list resting on his podium. "The Duritanian armies are moving again. My sources say that Condrair, the country they're invading currently, is giving them a harder time than expected. With most of their focus on the invasion, now may be a good time to attack..." He closed his eyes as his audience again spoke over his next sentence. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He knew this wasn't going to go over well. With a small, tired smile he motioned toward his right hand man, the bearded man, Rostoloff.
"He's not done yet! Quiet down!"
Everyone immediately quieted except for one especially loud voice. "Are you insane, Camden? We are peasants. We have pitch forks and our grandfather's rusted swords if we're lucky. They have sabers, sharpened every night, and skilled archers. Things we'll give our lives to without a proper fight."
Gane Shaebor was one of sickly complexion and had hair greased back with oil that that glinted in the candle light. His thin lips, fixed in a constant sneer, and the overall rat like appearance didn't make him a favorite with any of his fellow Malieans. The fact that he had fallen from a high spot with the king and still held enough of his pride to look down on his fellow peasants made it so that he was hated.
He looked around for support and could only find embarrassed faces averting their gaze. "They've been training for their whole life. While we've only just started. We'll be destroyed and our fellow countrymen will only suffer more because of our foolish actions. There will be other times. Please, let's not rush into something we can't possibly win."
Camden stared at him with cold eyes and asked, "What do you suggest, Gane? Shall we wait until we're gray haired and weaker than we are now? Shall we wait until the Duritanians have grown so powerful they own the whole world? Do you really think we'll get those glittering sabers? We need to move now! Waiting will do nothing. People will still die. We'll still have the disadvantage a month, a year, a decade, a century from now." He raised an eyebrow when a hush fell over the room and finally said in mock surprise, "No answer! Have you disagreed without a plan to replace mine?"
The thin man flinched away from the insult and looked down as to not reveal his anger stricken face. He shook slightly and without warning jumped up as Camden continued. Gane pulled out a pistol and screamed, "This is for the Empire, you scum!" He raised the weapon above his head and shot two rounds into the ceiling.
Soldiers stormed the building and seemed to ignore the many peasants who flew for the many escapes that had been put in for that very purpose. They were intent on one man and one man only, a man that had eluded their grasp until now: the leader of the last revolutionary group, Camden Bartolv.
Camden Bartolv was stuck on the stage with no way out as soldiers ran toward him and realized this fact while others around him did not. He raised his head and met the eyes of the nearest soldier, daring him to approach. He moved down stairs as the soldier approached to receive the challenge and jerked his arm away from the man's grasp. "Let me walk away alone," he hissed and straightened his shoulders as the last of his followers, Rostoloff stood in the midst of a sea of armor. "And leave the innocent. You have who you want." He nodded at his right hand and walked out of the door without another word to his guard.
I like it! It's a great start! I love the Masquerader name, it's quite inventive.
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