Post by StaolDerg on Feb 7, 2021 9:50:33 GMT -5
(OOC: this was supposed to be done back in early Esrellia before the announcement of the Empress coming to visit but in time for the spies from Franerre to be present. It is very rushed and I am sorry. I'll try to do better next time but I know delta was waiting on me. IC explanation for the news only reaching anyone now is bad communication infrastructure)
The morning class concluded with the tolling of Kelsun Old University’s bells, their echoing reports sounding sound three times for the thousand students of the campus to rise from their seats and pay respects to their teachers before making their way out the door, bleary-eyed and tired from a night of lectures and study.
Professor Avri’s class was no different as the nearly five centuries-old Inselni watched his class slowly make their way out, though unlike the usual days, they seemed more reserved- no one seemed in the mood for questions, being more in a rush to go home, if anything. Several had gathered into groups they normally wouldn’t, disintegrating within seconds as they passed messages back and forth on their way out the doors. A single clipping of newspaper exchanged hands multiple times.
He smiled, watching them trickle out as he glanced at his watch. He had about ten of them in his desk- all of them were about the corruption of the city’s mayor.
“Professor?”
He turned his head to the Crown facing him at the desk, raising a scaled eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Are coming with us to the…”
“Hush, little one. Off you go. I want to hear the bells one last time.”
“Of course, Professor.”
The student hurried off, straightening their circlet as they shut the door behind him.
The Territorials meandered about the square, keeping an open road for the due officers arriving at the Kelsun’s Armory in a few hours. They kept the traffic clear and moving as citizens wound their way through the living river of horse-drawn carts and fellow Elenrians. As garrison Territorial Elenria, they carried the antiquated Muratas of the frontline infantry replaced by those of the Kumosenkan weapon stocks, their furniture well-worn with age. Most had been transferred from the greatfern-countering bases to the rear in rotation, with little idea how to deal with civilians.
They looked- and felt- nervous with the dense population, feeling more like sheep being corralled than shepherds. The local constabulary stood alongside them, some carefully watching the locals’ behavior. Too many reports and rumors had flown about after what had happened at Pactstei, what with the local garrison bringing in armored cars after the first bricks had begun flying against wooden bullets.
To their horror, the crowd suddenly began to thin as a line of students began to approach with signs and banners. Many of them protested the dealings of the mayor with syndicates- others the price of grain, raised once again despite Kumosenkan’s relief actions in the area. They well outnumbered the Territorials about five to one- a tide of angry voices sweeping to meet a thin line of tan and dark blue.
The soldiers began to worry, forming lines to counter the growing demonstrators. Several briefly brandished their rifles haphazardly, only to be told off by senior officers trying to control the fear rapidly spreading about the military ranks.
“Lieutenant! Call command- ask for help, orders, anything!”
To their increasing panic, the signal officers were met without reply from headquarters.
“There’s no one answering!”
“Someone’s cut the telegraph lines!”
The crowd’s chanting grew louder as they approached, meeting the soldiers and police face to face. The soldiers, beginning to panic, mounted bayonets and pushed back while the officers debated simply arresting the mayor and negotiations over sending a courier.
The crack of a rifle broke out- neither side expecting it, both sides receded behind cover, a cacophony of screams and yelling breaking out as someone fell. Bullet wound was indistinguishable from those tripping, magnifying the chaos.
A second gunshot rang out as a soldier collapsed before the Territorial officers ordered the soldiers to shoot back at a perceived powder smoke from the rooftops. As the cracks of dozens of rifles rang out, the alarm bell began to sound at the city’s mayoral office, alerting people to return home in a vain attempt to control the situation. Shots and other projectiles began to exchange regardless of side, bullets and bricks meeting each other’s sides in a flurry of yells and gunshots.
The Territorials ordered a ceasefire too late as the crowd disappeared through the arteries of the square, the other shooters evaporating as well, leaving the air only full of cries from wounded and the tolling of bells. The hospitals were called, but as the soldiers moved in to rescue the wounded, unease of high command’s reaction began to float into conspiracy and worry.
The morning class concluded with the tolling of Kelsun Old University’s bells, their echoing reports sounding sound three times for the thousand students of the campus to rise from their seats and pay respects to their teachers before making their way out the door, bleary-eyed and tired from a night of lectures and study.
Professor Avri’s class was no different as the nearly five centuries-old Inselni watched his class slowly make their way out, though unlike the usual days, they seemed more reserved- no one seemed in the mood for questions, being more in a rush to go home, if anything. Several had gathered into groups they normally wouldn’t, disintegrating within seconds as they passed messages back and forth on their way out the doors. A single clipping of newspaper exchanged hands multiple times.
He smiled, watching them trickle out as he glanced at his watch. He had about ten of them in his desk- all of them were about the corruption of the city’s mayor.
“Professor?”
He turned his head to the Crown facing him at the desk, raising a scaled eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Are coming with us to the…”
“Hush, little one. Off you go. I want to hear the bells one last time.”
“Of course, Professor.”
The student hurried off, straightening their circlet as they shut the door behind him.
The Territorials meandered about the square, keeping an open road for the due officers arriving at the Kelsun’s Armory in a few hours. They kept the traffic clear and moving as citizens wound their way through the living river of horse-drawn carts and fellow Elenrians. As garrison Territorial Elenria, they carried the antiquated Muratas of the frontline infantry replaced by those of the Kumosenkan weapon stocks, their furniture well-worn with age. Most had been transferred from the greatfern-countering bases to the rear in rotation, with little idea how to deal with civilians.
They looked- and felt- nervous with the dense population, feeling more like sheep being corralled than shepherds. The local constabulary stood alongside them, some carefully watching the locals’ behavior. Too many reports and rumors had flown about after what had happened at Pactstei, what with the local garrison bringing in armored cars after the first bricks had begun flying against wooden bullets.
To their horror, the crowd suddenly began to thin as a line of students began to approach with signs and banners. Many of them protested the dealings of the mayor with syndicates- others the price of grain, raised once again despite Kumosenkan’s relief actions in the area. They well outnumbered the Territorials about five to one- a tide of angry voices sweeping to meet a thin line of tan and dark blue.
The soldiers began to worry, forming lines to counter the growing demonstrators. Several briefly brandished their rifles haphazardly, only to be told off by senior officers trying to control the fear rapidly spreading about the military ranks.
“Lieutenant! Call command- ask for help, orders, anything!”
To their increasing panic, the signal officers were met without reply from headquarters.
“There’s no one answering!”
“Someone’s cut the telegraph lines!”
The crowd’s chanting grew louder as they approached, meeting the soldiers and police face to face. The soldiers, beginning to panic, mounted bayonets and pushed back while the officers debated simply arresting the mayor and negotiations over sending a courier.
The crack of a rifle broke out- neither side expecting it, both sides receded behind cover, a cacophony of screams and yelling breaking out as someone fell. Bullet wound was indistinguishable from those tripping, magnifying the chaos.
A second gunshot rang out as a soldier collapsed before the Territorial officers ordered the soldiers to shoot back at a perceived powder smoke from the rooftops. As the cracks of dozens of rifles rang out, the alarm bell began to sound at the city’s mayoral office, alerting people to return home in a vain attempt to control the situation. Shots and other projectiles began to exchange regardless of side, bullets and bricks meeting each other’s sides in a flurry of yells and gunshots.
The Territorials ordered a ceasefire too late as the crowd disappeared through the arteries of the square, the other shooters evaporating as well, leaving the air only full of cries from wounded and the tolling of bells. The hospitals were called, but as the soldiers moved in to rescue the wounded, unease of high command’s reaction began to float into conspiracy and worry.