A New Way

*Posted by* Largehobbit

Posted: Apr 17, 2018, 9:52pm

21st August - Silken Mill, Steamworks - Early Morning

Nestor was missing. Kav Barnes had brought him a message late last night and after a heated discussion the two had stepped out, promising to be back within the hour. Neither had been seen since. The picket line was afire with rumour. Some said the militia had come for him others that he had deserted the line and betrayed the cause. Either way it had people rattled.

Constables of the Watch held the guard now outside of the factory, around twenty of them shivering in the morning mist. The ground was still wet from the night before and the air held the smell of mould and rot. They just had to hold out until midday and Westley Corbet would return from Highholm and it would all be over. A great victory.

A lonely voice started to sing somewhere in the depths of the factory, and all whispering ceased as the men and women strained to listen.

The soft winds sing across the sea,
While here I sit all alone and cold.
Rapt in the rays of memory,
That flash from Golden days of old,
For oh, the oceans murmuring tune,
Speaks to my bosom of a time,
When life was as a harvest moon,
Or warbling of a sylvan rhyme.

First one and then another joined the refrain as they bolstered their courage against the cold unknown of the morning. Soon the song rose up like a great chorus and for the moment the disappearance of Nestor was forgotten.

An old grey home upon the beach
A gentle face that blessed the door,
Whose eyes like Saint's from sculptured niche,
Look into mine for evermore
Full voices 'mid the garden flowers,
To soothe and sanctify the day,
These once were mine but frozen hours,
Have stolen them all to depts away.

Snow chilly snow, fell on my way,
And cast sharp icy thrills around.
But gentle voices day by day,
When hopeful tones my faint heart fond,
Soft stars looked through the dark browned skies,
And poured a pulsing light on my,
I felt they were the radiant eyes,
That lit my youth beside the sea.

21st August - The People Palace, Paramount Hill - Morning

Josiah had not slept. Upon his return the his manor that morning the Council Writ had been waiting for him, an urgent call for a full meeting of the City leadership. He was not surprised, the situation in the Steamworks was a disaster and it was only a matter of time before Elesium became fully aware of the situation and then the real trouble would start.

He sat there now amidst his peers listening to them worry and complain. Absently he brushed his fingers over the grazes on his knuckles, remembering every blow as if it had been a lovers touch. Around him the prattle continued, Montclaire, Spink, Fairbrother the list went on. Male, pale and stale the whole lot of them, including himself he mused in a rare moment of honesty. Even Marshall Fordman had turned up to pick over the carcass of the current disaster.

"and I demand to know what is being done!" Councilman Montclaire finished his tirade and looked expectantly at Josiah, who raised his eyebrow in surprise. There was silence as everyone turned to look at him and he let out a deep sigh. He had not listened to a word that the pontificating fool had uttered but that was irreverent. The answer would be the same regardless of the question. He stood and addressed the room.

"My dear friends," he opened his arms as if encompassing the room, "Like the tremors that shook the city but a few days ago these troubles will pass."

"How can you say that." snapped Alfons Fairbrother, his chins shaking with rage. He pointed a stubby finger at Josiah and sluttered, "You had the chance to stop all of this yesterday and you allowed that... welp to make a deal... a deal! with the workers."

Josiah raised his hands, "No deal has been made until we the Council allow it, and what was I to do Mr Fairbrother. Would this Council sanction my actions if I had gunned down a prominent member of the Corbet family? His arrival changed the situation irrecoverably, a withdrawal was my only option."

"and what of the Green Docks." demanded Benjamine Montclaire.

"History will record the demolition of the Green Docks as a necessary part of the city reconstruction. We will re-position the new station at the location of the extended wall, plans are already being drawn up."

Further comment was interupted by the opening of the double doors at the head of the room. The Council seated in a wide circle with Josiah at its centre all looked up to see Edward Hanton enter and behind him Westley Corbet, the man of the hour. Edward stood to once side and Westley walked on coming to rest in the centre of the room. He glanced at his brothers empty seat and for a moment his face darkened.

"Mr Corbet." Josiah said, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"This was not the meeting I expected." Westley said looking around the room.

"Nor I, but the Council was keen to discuss this most important matter in an open forum."

Westley gave a brief nod, but did not reply.

"So Mr Corbet," Josiah continued, "Would you like to explain to the City Leaders what you plan to do about the demands of your workers in the Silken Mill?"

"I plan to meet their demands in full." there was silence for a long moment and then the room erupted in anger. Josiah allowed it to rage on a kept a keen eye on Westley as he weathered the storm. Impressive. At long last Josiah raised his hand for silence and the room slowly came to order, he leaned forward in his seat,

"Mr Corbet you do realise that meeting all of these demands will drive your business into the ground. How do you hope to pay for it?"

"I have resources at my disposal."

"Really?" laughed Josiah, "they must be vast indeed to pay for this."

Edward Hanton stepped forward with a cough, Josiah motioned for him to speak,

"It would appear sir that Mr Corbet plans to squander his family fortune as the sole beneficiary of his brothers will."

"How do you know that?" demanded Wesley suddenly flushed, "that is my business, mine and Davids."

"Edward has a nasty habit of knowing things he should not, it is infuriating I admit, but useful." Josiah leaned back, "Mr Corbet you are wrong about one thing at the least it is not your business. The wealth of the great families and the balance of power in the city is the business of everyone in this room."

"Josiah what choice is there?" Westley reasoned, "People are dying every day out there while we sit here in comfort and safety. We have a responsibility."

"Yes we do." agreed Josiah, "A responsibility to put aside out bleeding hearts and precious sensibilities and to recognise the truth."

"And what is that?" demanded Westley.

"The truth is Mr Corbet, that ever since mankind crawled out of the darkness we are driven by one need and one need alone. Survival. We have created a fragile and imperfect system Mr Corbet but it allows us to survive and make no mistake we do so on a knife edge. The cogs must turn, the flagesium must rise and the people must bare the burden or..." he slammed the table with his fist. "We are all dead."

"There must be a better way." Westley demanded, "there must be some kind of hope."

Josiah looked around the room meeting the eyes of his fellow councilmen. He gave a slow nod and folded his arms.

"Let us put it to a vote. Let us consider who amongst us will join Westley in his hope, in his dream for a better way. Let is see a show of hands."

21st August - Silken Mill, Steamworks - Midday

The factory clock showed one minute to twelve. The deadline was upon them. Silence had settled over the workers as they waited for word from the Hill. Feelings of hope and dread moved amongst them like twin tides of emotion. Some hopeful soul started to sing but this time nobody joined him and the voice trailed off into silence. The clock ticked on, tick tick tick and then.

There came a low rumble from outside along with the sound of boots striking cobble. Someone screamed.

"Take aim!" came a distance voice, "Fire!"