» Fri May 13, 2011 7:19 am Wanderlust
Prologue
Pitter-patter, rain. The garbled noise of water leaking from the roof and spattering against Duncan's window woke him, already mobs had accumulated across the courtyard. The cot he sprung out of was no bigger than him and the furnishings of his room were bland, fit for simple tasks. The boy gazed through his warped window, one of eight on the entire building. Braziers set up at the temple's entrance marked the front of the food lines.
Duncan remembered a time, a few years back there had been no such lines. They said the cause for the famine was a fruitful combination of the heirless duke's death, the ensuing civil war, floods and to many an unhealthy batch of bad luck. Dwynnen was a backwater fief for the major realms of the Illiac bay. It was Duncan's understanding the skirmishing nobles were overlooked by major powers like Daggerfall, Camlorn and Anticlere.
It was said to be far worse in the actual town of Dwynnen. Southwood, Duncan's home was frightfully in the middle of the conflict, leaving it a focal point for refugees. Its only refuge for the poor was the Academy Sanctorum.
Duncan shied away from the window and the cries of hungry beggars and proceeded to get dressed in his tan woolens, belting an equally tan robe over with a thin cord. Quickly now Duncan, we must constantly prepare ourselves the words of his late master rang through his head. He continued slipping on his sandals and heading for the door. He stopped to a halt, the clattering over sandals on the stone floor ceased. " Come in Master Quill."
A balding man in his middle forties entered, carrying a thick book (not entirely uncommon for Quill) ink stains seemingly worn upon his fingertips. Pleased with his instinctual prediction, which often times startled his superiors amongst the Academy, Duncan offered a shallow bow to his professor.
" Duncan, the time has come."
Panic surged through Duncan, but was quickly quelled with the help of his training, his Master showed no signs of hurry or fear. Calm reserve radiated from his presence. " I see you have already gathered the majority of your things. You do as myself and the other masters have instructed. Flee."
***
The angry mob insisted, one of the two monks cried out over the clamor " There is no longer enough food to sate the populous, there simply is not enough." trained in the arts of the voice the mob silenced for an instant before resuming.
"Food!"
" You bloody monks don't eat anything but grass!"
" My children!"
The pleading continued.
A rock soared above the mob, and struck one of the two scholars.
Duncan watched the madness as the hungry, disheveled, poor the cretins of the streets overpowered the monks at the gate. The smaller people were being trampled into the cobble stone as hundreds marched to the Academies oak double doors. Duncan sped across the sanctum, through the library and out a cleverly hidden side passage.
