Savine’s cloak swished as she walked, watching the people of Fallton mingle and shift their way through the town on business of their own. She sipped at her beer, tapping the mug as yet another faired haired lass chirruped by, her long sword tucked away in its cunning silver sheath. Since the new rulers had come and placed themselves in command of the once bedraggled town, things had quieted slightly. There was a stronger sense of order that had been missing for many an age, and it felt wrong over the wildly independent town of Fallton, rubbing Savine the wrong way. Order was fine, but she missed the tension of the chaos, danger, that kept a man up on his toes, fingers against his sword hilt. She had grown up with that, whatever frayed net of security was now attempting to cover the town felt false, Unearned. The unrest, the eagerness for quests and for danger still lurked, however, not prominently enough, not for her taste. She drank down her beer her eyes focusing across the square at a tall warrior fetching himself a drink from the beer keg beyond the fire. This was her town, her world, and the royals were about to find that out the hard way.
She continued walking as the warrior noticed her within the crowd, approaching quickly from her right, and she made a careful movement to move her beer mug out of his way. She might have been a ruffian, but by Fallton she had enough class not to waste a drop of her beer.
“Still have it?” Her voice was low as the warrior nodded his head and tapped at his pocket, a smile creeping over his face.
“Got it right here.”
“Good.” She took a swig from her mug, “We’ll need more support if we’re going to take this town back. See what you can do about rallying people to our cause, and be covert about it would you? We don’t want this going down in flames.”
“Right.” He was off from her side in a moment and she walked on, making her way towards the keg of beer as her eyes sifted through the crowd.
The bonfire in the middle of the town attracted dozens of people like moths to a flame, all eager to gather and gossip as well as partake in the treats offered up by the vendors established by the fireside. At the moment the place seemed even more crowded than usual, the royalty themselves not far off and participating in the customary mid-day feast. Savine resisted the urge to grimace and curl her lip back, turning away casually and ignoring the idle chatter. Ahead she caught a glimpse of the second rebel leader, chatting with his companions around him. The man was passionate, she would give him that, however he had already been in the stocks once; they would need to be more careful if they wished to be successful against the loyalists and the Empresses’ guard.
Her beer mug was long since full as she reached the barrel, filling her mug before turning on her heel, her cloak whisking behind her. For a moment, the all too familiar scar on her wrist burned into her flesh and she rubbed at the leather straps, wrapped around her skin to make the brand impossible to see. Across the square someone broke out into song and she stood straighter, catching a glimpse of her cousin’s red hair through the crowd, making his way towards the fire. Savine took another swig from her mug and strode over, a smile tugging at her face.
“He’s in.” She said quietly, nodding nonchalantly in the direction of yet another warrior she’d brought into the fold. Nearby her other contact walked towards them, boots swishing around a long skirt, “Our numbers are growing.”
“Good.” Her cousin grinned and she tossed back her cloak, glancing up in the direction of the missing royal flag. She kept her voice low as she raised her beer slightly a slow smirk spreading over her face.
“Long live the king.” She said quietly and drank down her mug.