Anyways. No pictures for these, because I plumb forgot to take them.
Events in Greatbridge: Summer and Early Fall.
Keilden and Legon were sitting together in Frea's Bar, as it continued to be called. Neither would have called what they were doing “plotting”, Legon because he knew that by all rights, he should be in charge, and Keilden because he knew damn well that he was in charge. You don't plot when you're charge. You lead.
“The way I see it, Keilden-”
“Captain, if you please!”
“Ok, Captain. So, as long as you and I hold all the alcohol in the fort, I've got a good chance of winning the next election. And that's coming up in a few days. So what I say is, we keep sitting on our little stockpile here. We parcel out a drink here and there to the dwarfs who really like to vote... you know, Mook, Erith, and the rest. We complain about shortages, mention that if Solon hadn't let our best brewer-”
“Your wife, right?”
“Yeah, right. Anyway, if she hadn't let Frea get killed, we wouldn't be in this situation right now. Listen, half the fort hasn't had a drink in weeks. They're desperate. We can ruin her with this.”
Keilden looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, I like that. And after we've beat her, why, Solon will practically be a war criminal, right? Getting all those people killed and all? She'll probably need to be locked up, or even executed, right?
“See, I'd leave that in the hands of my Captain of the Guard. He's in charge of justice, here. I'm sure he would make the right decision.”
Keilden grinned. “He fuckin' would, wouldn't he? He'd know just what to do with the criminal scum around here.” He raised his glass. “Cheers, Mayor to be.”
“Cheers, Capt-”
There was a sudden clattering at the door. Grath rushed in, looking out of breath but excited. “You wouldn't believe it! Human merchants! They just got here, and Solon's already bought something like thirty barrels of booze off've them!” He bolted back up the stairs, shouting, “Got to go! It's like huge party up there! She's the hero of the hour, by gods!”
There was a moment of silence between the two. Finally, Keilden spoke. "Well, at least I'm still the law around here. Don't know what you're going to do." Legon said nothing.
From the Journals of Solon Wardbridges, Limestone the 20th, 208.
Well, despite everything, the fort holds together. I was reelected as mayor, which was good to hear. And every day, (well, week) we get closer to the opposite shore. You know, home. The land I was born in. In a month or so, we'll be able to walk there. Do I want to? Do I want a direct channel to the King?
I... I'm going to finish this damn bridge, is what I'm going to do.
Well, the King's emissaries get here anyway, by ship as always. And the usual insane letter: “Solon! The weather continues fine. My petunias are in full bloom, and one just chased me round the pig tail bush! I just thought that perhaps you should add a small bridge that floats, unsupported, wandering about in the ether! Consider it, old boy! Also, my cigars demand brass cases. The pure steel cases I use are simply not strong enough to hold them back! Best wishes, and all my love to Pamela,
- Mad King Onul”
I've got no intent of even thinking about starting a fourth “bridge”. Hell, he hasn't had me executed for failing to produce the others. Why would he start now? The cigar cases... we can manage. Maybe. I'll put out a mandate, or something.
Have to find out what a cigar is too.
Anyway, even better news. The king's merchants brought even more alcohol. That leaves the mayor's, IE, my, stockpile at 956 units, and Legon and Keilden's at 23. Thank you Inaluct for that information, though why you refer to a pint of beer as a “unit” is still beyond me.
Elsewhere:
Meanwhile, Moron was growing increasingly desperate. Every year, he sent his report to the king, describing the disasters that had befallen the fort, and what the king could (hopefully) do to rectify them. And every year the answer came back: "What wonderful news! Tell me, have you tried scrubbing it out?" Moron was sure of two things. One: That probably wasn't code for anything he needed to know. And two: being a spy for a mad king was exactly what it was cracked up to be.
Author
Topic: Greatbridge of Oceans (community fort, why not) (Read 46098 times)