Thread: Of Steam, Sordid Affairs, and Sweethearts (RI & Blackwings)

Tradewind City. A sprawling mass of pipes, cobblestones and people. Built into the side of a mountain and surrounded by cliffs, it is easily the most defensible city in all of the Grand Kingdom of Zalaris. From here, the Council of Eight rules with a fair, but iron, fist a benevolent dictatorship devoutly loved by all of its citizens, save for the few dissidents that believe anarchy is the way to go. Lord Abriel, Grand Councilman of the Council of Eight, has just taken a new wife, and to safeguard her, has promoted Guard Captain Ilsive DeViain to become her personal bodyguard. A guard force without a Captain, however, quickly falls apart with nobody to give them orders. Guard Captain Ilsive DeViain was, without a doubt, the best Guard Captain the local military force had ever seen to give them orders even if he was a sniveling crook that pinched more money from the city coffers than a hundred embezzlers could ever do. Enter Knight-Captain Zephyr Goldwind of the Steam-Knights, age 17. Prodigy of sword and gadgetry, creator of the mechanized sword used by the majority of the Steam-Knights, a minor noble by virtue of his rank. A peasant boy, in truth, who had dreams of grandeur that eventually became reality. ... The Knight-Captain drew rein astride the monstrously large white horse that bore him down the cobbled road toward Tradewind City. The gates rose before him, massive wrought steel held guard by two footsoldiers - and several dozen archers upon the ramparts of the wall. Blue-black hair tied back into a tight tail that fell halfway down his back, his silver eyes studied the guards at the gate, and those at the rampart. The vast majority of them - elders, seasoned - dozed at their posts, while the younger looked down at him, curious but not alerting others to his approach. Pitiful, the Knight-Captain breathed in a sonorous, rich voice. Dismounting, and calming the warsteed with a light stroke across its broad nose, Zephyr Goldwind approached, the mechanized sword sliding free of his belt. Single-edged and wrapped in tight links of toothed chain, he approached the gate with the sword's tip pointing to the ground, unthreatening, his silver eyes blazing with open animosity. He was able to come within five feet of the gate before one of the now-terrified younger sentries was able to call out for him to stop and stand down. Zephyr's eyes lifted, fixing his baleful gaze upon the sentry - eighteen? nineteen? Blue-eyed and blond-haired, a steam-powered crossbow in his hands aimed down at his chest. If the boy pulled the trigger, no less than six bolts would shoot through his heart in a second. Zephyr raised his hands in mute surrender, sliding the mechanized sword back onto his belt. The boy seemed to relax, but the Knight-Captain wondered what harm he could do to the boy with a blade from this distance that had made him so nervous. State your business! the boy called down, the shout finally starting to rouse other guards. Zephyr suspected it was more the tension in the air that brought them out of their slumber than anything else - a good instinct, if honed, he thought. I am Knight-Captain Goldwind of the Steam-Knights, and you will permit me passage into Tradewind, seat of power and law, where I have been summoned by Lord Abriel to take charge of your order! Zephyr's voice, raised, held the rich, powerful quality of a man used to giving orders, seeming to carry his entire being in its inflection and tone. He raised one hand to show the golden emblem of his office - a mechanized sword crossed with a blunderbuss, marked with six silver stars. Forgive me, Lord Goldwind! the boy cried out, quickly putting the crossbow away. I shall open the gate for you immediately! The gates began to swing open before the boy's echoes had died away, and the Knight-Captain crossed the threshold into the city. It took a moment to compose himself - not for gaining entry, but for it had been long since he had been in a civilized city. The soft, constant hum beneath his feet, of large gears grinding beneath the city to carry the coal to create the steam that powered all else, the soft hissing of steam rushing through brass pipes buried into the ground and running through houses, the explosive hissing as overbuilt steam escaped its confines at release points. The sounds of civilization, sweet music to his ears. The boy that had apprehended him at the gate rushed up to him, bowing deeply. Please forgive me, Lord Goldwind. We had been informed of your coming, but we expected someone... Older? Taller? It matters not, boy. No forgiveness is needed, as you were doing your duty. See to my horse, and have all the guards gathered at your barracks in two hours. I'll be needing to administer a tongue-lashing for their lack of discipline. I must report to Lord Abriel. With that, he swept off down the cobblestone streets, leaving the boy to stare at his retreating back. His strides ate up the ground with each stretch of his long legs, carrying him through the densely-packed buildings, the music of the city only growing louder. Soon joined by the cries of merchants hawking their wares, laughing children playing in the streets, chattering women and boasting drunk men. Once he reached the inner city, his pace slowed, deciding to take his time to venture up to the Council of Eight's manor. Lord Abriel could wait. It had been forever since he had set foot in a city of steam, and he planned to reacquaint himself with the sounds, smells and tastes of the city. How he'd missed civilization!