Chronicle of Ionnia - Red Son Rising

Crowned Prince Malik called all the merchant lords, guild leaders, and magistrates to banquet. Tensions had been rising for days, Malik had been fuming. All the hands that pulled the strings behind the Crowned Prince's back sat at his table and smiled at him like old friends.   The truth, however, had been revealed. The actions that had been done upon the Lost Sons, the records, the reports. All of it was proof that not only had edicts been ignored and taxes stolen, but the prince's own brothers had sworn for his enemies. Slaves that had been freed still labored in chains. Extortion, murder, trafficking, and every other sin imaginable perpetrated by the very people meant to prevent them.   So Malik called those responsible to the table. The Makhamun were summoned from their duties of rule. They tossed blame like hot coals at each other's feet and some even had the audacity to question the Crowned Prince.   The Crowned Prince had slept little the days before. He paced at all hours, raging about the parade of betrayals. So when the magistrates laid their own failures upon Malik, his rage boiled over. He ran one of them through. A fat slob with countless golden slave bands around his arms.   The Sons immediately took positions behind the other guests, lest they get ideas of regicide. Each merchant and guild master was questioned and imprisoned.   These 'deliberations' took days. In that same time, several of our patrols were attacked in the streets; including mine. Some of the attacks appeared random or the work of disgruntled mobs. The ones who attacked my patrol were very different.   I was delivering a message to the Pillow district, with several new bloods and a few veterans with me as escort. We were all on edge, alert, but we still didn't see the first shot coming. One of the new recruits spewed blood before he could so much as gasp a warning. Then they were on us.   Fire shattered the cobbled streets. A scream filled the air. At first, I thought a civilian had been injured. But the scream became a roar of fear and rage. A deafening, other-worldly wail.   Purple fog descended on the streets, filling our lungs and eyes with acrid smoke. We scrambled to maintain our formation. The new bloods fell behind.   White shadows raced along the roofs, their blades flashing. We held in a narrow alley, the new bloods pushing me back. The white warriors cut one Son to bloody shreds. Then another. Fire rained down as carpets flew above us. One of the new bloods threw a perfectly aimed spear, pinning a sorcerer and their carpet to a shop wall. One of the white warriors fell. Then another.   A building beside us burst open like a hornet's nest. Sorcerers and thugs poured out, trying to surround us. We cut a swath and pushed through the street. A few more new bloods threw me away from the enemy line. And they laid their lives on the street to do it.   I thought at first this was a random attack. That they would have attacked the first Sons they saw. But they pursued us with purpose. I knew it was the documents in my satchel they were after when the guards showed up.   At first, we thought the guards had arrived to help us. Torin had a new blood over his shoulder as he ran towards the guards. Before he could even get the words "Thank the Titan" out of his mouth they fired upon him. Crossbow bolts hammered his chest, head, and arms, and the new recruit already bleeding out across his shoulders.   Carver grabbed my arm and threw us both through the wall of the nearest shop. He was wounded but did not slow. We went through the other side and sprinted for all our worth towards the bridge. The guards and sorcerers followed.   A few of our enemies managed to get close before Carver cut them down. Each one took more effort from the old veteran. I could hear the blood in his breath as he struggled to keep up. The bridge was in sight when Carver slumped down.   "I'll stay. Let's fight together," I had said. But I could already see Carver's intentions in his eyes.   The old vet smiled a bloody smile and put something in my hand before he told me to run. I wanted to tell him no, but I knew better than to argue. So I ran.   I looked back to see him in the alley. He was cutting down every guard that challenged him. They couldn't get past him. I put every last scrap of energy into my legs as I sprinted for the bridge. I looked back one more time to see a flash and a ball of fire strike Carver and all the guards around him. I looked at the item in my hand. One last tiny knight carved of wood.   Shade was on the other side of the bridge. When I reached her, weeping and bloody, I admit I told her everything. Maybe I should have waited. Told the Old Man, instead. But I couldn't hide from Shade. A dark shield, like a giant bubble, covered the bridge, keeping any further pursuit from following.   I wrote all their names in the Chronicle.   After everything, I learned what happened next.   Shade took the veterans. All of them. They told no one until it was done. They went to that district and killed any of the guards from that garrison who had survived the fight. Shade used magic to move the Sons through the shadows. Some of the guards were swallowed whole by shadows, gone without a trace.   The Old Man and Crowned Prince Malik found out the next day. Swiftly, the Prince sent out his edicts, condemning the actions of the sorcerers and traitors. He commanded each district master to swear fealty again. Then the riots started.   The Sons were wounded. So many new bloods were dead before they could really become Sons. But the Veterans hurt the most. The names Carver and Torin were carved into blades and arrow shafts when the Lost Sons were sent in to put down the riots.   There was no mercy. The rioters were told to surrender once. Those who did not immediately comply were executed on the spot. The guards of every district were dragged to the palace and made to swear their allegiance to Prince Malik or be put to death.   The riots lasted three days. In the aftermath, Crowned Prince Malik issued the new edicts. All slaves were to be freed, all people born in Sitaar, including the Ziin'ellar were to be made naturalized citizens, and all taxes were to be given to the crown, not the counting houses. Hundreds more minor laws were sent out.   There was little pushback but whispered complaints still reached our ears. But we had put a major dent in the rebellious powers. They no longer had control of the city. The traitor guard regiment was replaced with one entirely of Ziin'ellar volunteers. The first of its kind in the history of Sitaar.   Dozens of new recruits have joined the Company. The veterans are pleased but training them all will be a new challenge. Especially with Carver's name in the Chronicle.