Letter to Szol of Ar (Brutus Aurelius)
Sunday, April 13, 2008
9:03 AM
Magistrate of the People:
I thank you Szol, for your concern. I am recovering well. The jailing of citizens was a poor judgement call on the part of those that made it. They will be dealt with per the High Council.
It is my hope that the announcement made in the Great Square in a few days, will help the plight of the citizens of Ar of all castes. In light of our struggles, it is a poor time to allow any issue to be divisive. I will do everything in my power to remedy the suffering of Ar's sons and daughters.
Respectfully,
Brutus Aurelius
Administrator of Ar
Civitatis Aria
Labels: Brutus Aurelius, Central Cylinder Ar
Reconnaissance (part 2)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
8:15 PM
It was not unlike Szol's hidden wall, deep in the belly of what was once the Boarding House. Her hand fell across the valve, the jut of metal refusing stubbornly to budge, rusted and grimed into immobility. "Come on..move," a pained exhale forcibly growled between clenched teeth. Her hand slipped its grip twice, wet with water, mud, and chalk. Finally she stepped back to kick it with the heel of her boot. Perhaps not the wisest of choices, but it moved, a harsh spitting of rust rained down and the wall slid back and up slowly groaning in protest being woken from its ancient slumber.
Greeted with more darkness, she stepped from the vast opening and closed the portal behind her. This, she surmised, was the basement of basements in the cylinder. It looked no better than a dungeon, and as she passed the empty cells strewn with soiled straw, she realized that was exactly where the tunnels had spat her. It was empty now though of those it might have once housed, instead appearing to have become a storage facility. Crates stacked one atop the other cluttered the walk ways and even inside the cells. A quick inspection ruled out the unlikely event the contents were the substance she was looking for.
"I am not going down there. You go. I went last time," a red haired fellow spoke up, breaking the silence of the catacomb below. Behind him, looking over his shoulder a bearded man grunted, "Then get out of my way. If you're going to be a woman about it, I'll go myself." The red haired guard bristled and began to trudge down the stone steps, bits of dirt and small stones skittering ahead of him to the basement floor, "Oh no. I'll never hear the end of it, I'm going." The bickering had her stop in her tracks, backing up behind a pillar of crates. The duo passed, picking up one of the wooden boxes and began to carry it by the rope handles back up the steps, "Careful..hey slow down! I can't walk backwards as fast as you can walk forward," The bearded man looked over his shoulder, backing up the steps slowly with the crate. The door was left ajar as they passed, their bickering finally fading away the further they ventured from the catacomb.
Leaning out slightly, she looked toward the stairs and began to navigate from crate tower to crate tower, a path to the stairs. Silence was a good sign, but time was not on her side. They, or someone else, could return at any moment. A sliver of light cast a diagonal ribbon across the stone, piercing the darkness below. Step by step she ascended the stone, her back set to the shadowed portion of the stairwell, listening before slowly nudging the door open and glancing out into the hallway.
At this ahn, the lights were low. It was, she gathered, probably the first or second ahn. Guards would be changing shifts. In the interim, the hallway was empty however, and she took one last glance before turning and walking quickly down the corridor. She'd been here before, under other circumstances, once upon a time perched at the desk of Lady Sidney Nalius. The little bird. The channels were familiar to her, and yet it was long enough ago, that she nearly passed by the office of the Deputy in her haste. Fingertips curled around the knob, a turn indicated it was locked, as predicted.
The pack tied to her back was slid off, and within it removed the set of lock picks. Picking locks was not her skill set, but she usually managed well enough. Though, it wasn't often she was under this sort of time limit, however.
"That woman is a pain in my ass!" a voice rang out, causing her shoulders to hitch slightly. "If her father was not so close to the family, I'd have thrown her to her belly ages ago," it was coming closer. Her eyes narrowed on the lock, a soft audible click finally gave way and she turned the door, slipping in and quietly shutting it behind her. Her back pressed to the door, the sound of the voices rounded the corridor's corner and passed by, "Well you know, it's only for a year. Have you considered purchasing another slave girl?"
Exhaling heavily, she leaned up from the door and scanned the dark room, shrugging back on the leather pack and securing it tight to her waist. From the window she could hear the sounds of the city below, even at this late ahn the Square was active. The pads of her fingertips traced the scalloped edge of the desk, falling upon papers piled atop one another. She shuffled through each, documents the sort of mindless drudgery that would have kept her out of politics if she had been born a man and a citizen.
She pushed back the chair, sitting in it and reaching down, peering in every drawer. Nothing. Not even a bottle of good alcohol to be found squirreled away in a side drawer. Slouching back in the chair with a low sigh of frustration, she cast her gaze down, and there it suddenly snagged upon something jutting down from under the desk. Her brow furrowed, she scooted the chair back further and reached beneath, tugging free a folded bit of paper. Four names thereupon were inscribed, four names and nothing else:
Lysander Manus
Claudius Marselius
Titus Octavian
Anastasia Contessa
Labels: Central Cylinder Ar
Reconnaissance
Saturday, December 8, 2007
4:42 PM
Drick-tick, drip-drip-tick. Humid and cramped, she could taste the air in these tunnels. It reeked of dampness, mildew, and dead things; the stench lingering like a wet blanket that sought to coat your tongue every time you took a breath. Water from the cold rains above leaked down, dripping along the walls, leaving in some passage ways stagnant puddles through which to step.
"Three..two..one..three," a whispered mantra breaking the silence of the catacombs, "Do first what is right, then do what is left." The navigation was slow going, pausing long enough only to draw a familiar symbol on certain walls, her torch thrust high to heave light upon the darkness that encroached. Wire encased energy bulbs staggered every twenty yards or so. At one time they would have glowed softly, now, most had lost their brilliance to the many years that had passed without replacement.
Shadows writhed upon the walls, in constant violent flux with the fire light that led the way. How many men had taken this tunnel, she wondered, throughout the history of Ar? How many Ubars? A passage way, a secret, now defiled by the steps of an assassin, and a woman at that.
Labels: Central Cylinder Ar
Cry Havoc
Sunday, August 5, 2007
5:59 PM
"You have been trying to make things complicated for me for sometime, Savana. What would you have me do?"
Tongue's tip traced along the lower of her lip, and she canted her head slightly, studying his face and the expressions that filtered across it. "You make simple things complicated all by yourself, General. I am only a woman. It should be the most simple thing in the world." She smoothed her hands down his uniform, along the broad of his chest before finally stepping back with a small roll to shoulders. The severe cant of green cast towards the window, thoughtful for a moment before moving toward his desk. "I would have you prepare for war. Prepare to take the throne and prepare for things to become more complicated."
The attack on me by my caste was in regard to a request by the High Council. They fear my grip on the southern parts of the city, and my influence on possible civil war. Or so I have been alerted, both by disgruntled brothers of the caste, and my contacts within the city's Central Cylinder and Cylinder of Justice. The attempt on my life was a vain hope that by getting rid of me, they would once more obtain complete control over Southern Ar. I do not think they took into account Kyron. Or perhaps he too has a bounty on his head.
Their scheme was unsuccessful, and now they have exposed themselves, giving us no other recourse.
We move forward.
Labels: Central Cylinder Ar
