The taller-than-average lalafellen corporal huffed an exasperated breath. She paced back and forth along the line comprised of her own men, her bone-white celata held beneath one arm, her blond hair still done up in its bun.
Warmer than usual.
Haruko Kokojo came to a stop in front of a particularly bland-looking midlander and glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. Flame Private First Class Karl Gregson might not have looked like anything special, but his calm demeanor in the face of fire and his natural bent for tactics made him an invaluable asset that she had found herself relying on more and more with each passing sun. Such a shame about his face, though.
"Gregson," she said now. "Analysis, please."
"Musket fire, or worse. That it's coming from Pearl indicates a supplier, ma'am, given how poor the residents here are. That means they're organized. Worst case scenario, they've had ample time to train on them. Always plan for the worst. If it was me, I'd have posted my best marksmen at windows in the surrounding structures, assigned a heavy to each, and taken what's left down to the streets."
She nodded, then swept her gaze back down the line towards the Brass Blades.
They'd set up at the junction where the three alleyways leading from the Quicksand, the Gold Court, and Sapphire Exchange met. Even now, she knew, Blades were securing the various entrances into the palace and cordoning off any alley that led to Sapphire. Her eyes came to a rest on Broken Nose as the Hellsguard approached her; it had been he who'd been the one to sound the alarm over the recently-minted Sand Pearl, and she knew as well as her men did that the chaos they were about to confront rankled in the guts of the Blades just as much as they did with the Flames. Violence was one thing, a daily occurrence taken for granted in this city.
Armed and organized refugees, however, were another. That spelt trouble, and that sort of trouble reeked of possibilities, possibilities like riot, revolt, rebellion, treason, and sedition. Such things could not be tolerated.
Broken Nose came to a stop in front of her, and she snapped a sharp salute.
"Small firearms, ser. Men up top."
"We'll take streets."
"Leaves us windows," she answered back with a nod of approval. He didn't waste time. Good. They turned towards the assembled men and women together.
"BLADES," bellowed the Roegadyn, "THE STREETS ARE OURS. THEY HAVE CONDORS PERCHED HIGH, SO KEEP OUT OF THE LANES. HUG THE STONES. ONE CRY OF QUARTER, THEN BE ABOUT YOUR WORK."
"FLAMES," cried the Lalafell, "WE'RE FOR THE STOREFRONTS, THE APARTMENTS, THE WAREHOUSES. SHIELDS HIGH, BREACH IN PAIRS, REMEMBER YOUR DRILLS. CLEAR THE WINDOWS. NO QUARTER. A MAN WITH A MUSKET STANDS CONDEMNED, AS DO HIS FELLOWS."Â
Two sharp rasps of steel were answered by dozens upon dozens more. Moments later, the rolling thunder of a veritable stampede arose in answer to the sharp cracks of gunfire.
Warmer than usual.
Haruko Kokojo came to a stop in front of a particularly bland-looking midlander and glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. Flame Private First Class Karl Gregson might not have looked like anything special, but his calm demeanor in the face of fire and his natural bent for tactics made him an invaluable asset that she had found herself relying on more and more with each passing sun. Such a shame about his face, though.
"Gregson," she said now. "Analysis, please."
"Musket fire, or worse. That it's coming from Pearl indicates a supplier, ma'am, given how poor the residents here are. That means they're organized. Worst case scenario, they've had ample time to train on them. Always plan for the worst. If it was me, I'd have posted my best marksmen at windows in the surrounding structures, assigned a heavy to each, and taken what's left down to the streets."
She nodded, then swept her gaze back down the line towards the Brass Blades.
They'd set up at the junction where the three alleyways leading from the Quicksand, the Gold Court, and Sapphire Exchange met. Even now, she knew, Blades were securing the various entrances into the palace and cordoning off any alley that led to Sapphire. Her eyes came to a rest on Broken Nose as the Hellsguard approached her; it had been he who'd been the one to sound the alarm over the recently-minted Sand Pearl, and she knew as well as her men did that the chaos they were about to confront rankled in the guts of the Blades just as much as they did with the Flames. Violence was one thing, a daily occurrence taken for granted in this city.
Armed and organized refugees, however, were another. That spelt trouble, and that sort of trouble reeked of possibilities, possibilities like riot, revolt, rebellion, treason, and sedition. Such things could not be tolerated.
Broken Nose came to a stop in front of her, and she snapped a sharp salute.
"Small firearms, ser. Men up top."
"We'll take streets."
"Leaves us windows," she answered back with a nod of approval. He didn't waste time. Good. They turned towards the assembled men and women together.
"BLADES," bellowed the Roegadyn, "THE STREETS ARE OURS. THEY HAVE CONDORS PERCHED HIGH, SO KEEP OUT OF THE LANES. HUG THE STONES. ONE CRY OF QUARTER, THEN BE ABOUT YOUR WORK."
"FLAMES," cried the Lalafell, "WE'RE FOR THE STOREFRONTS, THE APARTMENTS, THE WAREHOUSES. SHIELDS HIGH, BREACH IN PAIRS, REMEMBER YOUR DRILLS. CLEAR THE WINDOWS. NO QUARTER. A MAN WITH A MUSKET STANDS CONDEMNED, AS DO HIS FELLOWS."Â
Two sharp rasps of steel were answered by dozens upon dozens more. Moments later, the rolling thunder of a veritable stampede arose in answer to the sharp cracks of gunfire.
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
