Treason in the Capital

The ‘intimacy room’ was occupied by new members. Draftees were always easy to pick up, war didn’t pique the same curiosity that eager women brought from young men. Peace seemed unlikely on the best day in the Autocracy. Leading his harem to do the real work of the three gods brought Kell a joy that simple coin couldn’t compete with.

Giving a contented sigh, he ambled toward the lobby. Starving the beast would require a much larger effort than his simple operation. Beguiling a few men away from the constant war was a very small victory, but every great accomplishment needed baby steps. Concealing the operation within his own law office was a brilliant move, but not one that he could take credit for. A great move masterminded by a great man. The priest had seemed so inconspicuous, another plain follower of Dural. Kell’s admissions of concern about the strife in the Frontiers had been a passing thought. Only further goading and coaxing by his priest brought his true feelings into the open.

Wandering through the hall through pink tinted incense stagnating the air conjured a stark mental image of his spiritual council. Taller than most holy men with an odd birthmark, a circle with four branches staining the side of his neck. The incense seemed to begin bothering Kell as a headache disrupted his thoughts. Shaking his head, he began to walk more quickly, determined to let the warm night air clear his head. Despite dwelling on his benefactor, the sudden pain wiped away any distinguishing features.

Emerging from the cloud of pink on the grand landing flanked by two separate stairs downwards, a short series of taps shook him from back to the present. More rhythmic tapping brought the doorman. Standing tall and grand above the lobby, Kell prepared his welcome. Naturally, his chosen path of resistance elicited awkwardness from solicitors. Descending from a higher floor in such a grand manner while maintaining a friendly demeanor was both a method of securing potentials and keeping the ones who stop by.

The doorman opened the way for ten visitors. A few wore untucked maroon shirts and khaki pants, slouch caps with a metal pin of crossed axes were pulled off on their entrance. Volunteer cavalrymen from Orinia. Four were dressed in civilian clothes beneath brown longcoats bearing the ASH triplehook superimposed over a gear with “27” on their shoulders in red. Conscripts called from draft lists. Dressed in plain padded leather coats, two men-at-arms from the northern kingdoms followed their compatriots in from the night. Presumably, they left their tabards with their armor.

“Welcome,” Kell began on as he descended down to greet his visitors, “Please, let me get you some refreshments.”

“Beauty of a place you have here,” A final visitor called upwards. This man dressed himself like a duelist, a short vest and stylish shirt.

Bowing his head in feigned embarrassment Kell answered, “A fair amount of luck with talented associates is my only explanation for this.”

“Nonsense, James Kell is a respected household name in legal circles for good reason,” The duelist crossed his arms, blue eyes hardening for a moment, “No need to undersell yourself.”

Kell stopped midway down the stairs. The muster was meant to take troops from all over the ASH, even so, no mere soldier should be of a station to know his business.

“Forgive me, I am a native and do not presume to know your business,” The duelist gave a disarming smile, “I too am in the movement to end this conflict.”

Kell puzzled silently as he went to speak with the duelist. Another one of the holy man’s disciples?

Drawing close to the duelist, the sound of weapons being drawn and the hard slap of his doorman on the tile alerted Kell just as a heavy hit brought the floor crashing up at him. As unconsciousness rapidly overtook him the duelist crouched next to him.

“You see, James Kell, with a wife and three children,” He said with an implicit threat to the Kell family. “I plan to end this conflict by winning it.”

Jostling bumps brought Kell back to the waking world. White beams of moonlight brought the interior of a plush carriage into view. Two men and the duelist sat across from him. Struggling to move against tightly knotted restraints he began to stutter, “I am a respected member of the legal community, this can’t…”

“James Kell, you have officially been charged with malicious attempts to impede the Autocratic States of Humanity in its capacity to prosecute a conflict,” The duelist sounded bored, spinning his hand to make tight circles in the air as if hurrying along a tired story. “In accordance with my office as an agent first class of the State Security Bureau you will be taken into custody for interrogation wherein I will decide what punishments I deem fit.”

He leaned in with a manic grin, “Tell me what I need to know about you and this ‘priest’ and I may let you live. Hold back or displease me,” the State Security official let out a dark chuckle, “and I will make you live. At that point, you will have lost the inclination.”

The carriage clattered off to the Citadel district.