Prologue
Festival of Kredne celebrations, Dreecha
Like a snake, they weaved their way through the crowds, their dark hood protecting them from the beady eyes of the Urbanus Custodia on patrol. Over the heads of people, buzzing with excitement and anticipation, they could see very little but could hear the rumble to the Chieftain’s open-topped carriage over the road. Though the streets of Dreecha were smoothly paved, the carriage itself made a noise as it sauntered past the city’s proud people. Colourful flags waved as the people cheered: “Longevity and fortune to the Chieftain!”
When the carriage reached the end of the road, the Chieftain helped his pregnant wife out of the carriage and onto the stage on which he was to address the masses, his people for whom he was so thankful for this Kredne. Or some bullshit like that, the hooded figure thought, anger in their tone even inside of their own head.
“My dearest citizens of Dreecha and indeed of the rest of this glorious land” The Chieftain began, his voice projected by a rare device known as a microphone. They had never seen one before, “I am thankful to you for your hospitality this Kredne”
There we go, They thought, reaching into the inside pocket of their cloak.
“This year shall be prosperous and bring us more good fortune than the last,” The Chieftain continued as his wife smiled on behind him. “Through our good deeds and blessings, we will contribute to a realm that will be renowned for its kindness, its strength and its courage. On this day, this Kredne, I encourage you, my loyal subjects, to let your blood water our soils and your flesh build up our nation.”
Stay still a little while longer. Suddenly, their hands latched onto the cool metal of the revolver they had so generously been supplied with. The Chieftain isn’t the only one with old world help.
“Down with the Chieftain!” They cried, flinging back their hood and aiming at the Chieftain. They pulled the trigger of the revolver before being tackled to the floor by the Urbanus Custodia. The crowd screamed in fear as they tried to push passed each other and rush to safety. With three sharp blows to the back of their head, the world around them faded into darkness.
When they awoke, the room was lit by the faint daylight of the barred skylight above. There were ropes tying their wrists and feet to the chair. A man, in the signature scarlet Urbanus Custodia uniform, stepped into the room and sat himself down opposite the almost-assassin whose hood had been removed.
“Care to tell me your name?” The man in the uniform asked, studying their face intently.
“Justice DuFour,” They replied, making steely eye contact with him. They were not afraid. Just as congressman Lanes had told them – There was no time to be afraid.
“I admit that was considerably less difficult than I imagined it would be.” The man leaned back in his chair. They felt the sleeve of their shirt for a small blade and began to quietly cut through the ropes that tied them to the chair, “Luckily, you missed the Chieftain almost completely. The bullet grazed his forearm but he’ll live. My question is: Where did you get your filthy mitts on an old world revolver?”
They, Justice DuFour, remained silent as they slipped out of their ropes. The man became agitated.
“Let me rephrase that.” He banged his fist on the table. “Who are you working for?”
Justice smirked and began to recite a rhyme. One that had been instilled in his head the moment he joined the cause:
“From the Earth we shovel,
To the blades we clean,
We are the warriors of her reign,
The righteous Raven Queen!”
Suddenly, before the man could stop them, they raised their arm and the knife, cutting a sleek line across his throat. They sputtered as a fountain of deep crimson blood spewed out of their neck. The man panicked, attempting to stop the bleeding with his hands as he called for back-up. It was unsuccessful as all the unanswered questions about the assassination attempt on Chieftain Mykelti died with Justice DuFour, leaving a hideous red stain for the department’s cleaner to take care of.
