Night's Cold Embrace

Chapter 7

"Gil! Gil! Gil! Gil!"

The crowd shouted the name, chanting it like a mantra.

The man who was presumably Gil stood in the centre of the garden, his arms raised high and a dagger clutched loosely in one of his hands. He was fairly short of stature, but well built. By the many blades strapped at his hip and against his chest, Garrett guessed he was one of the many common miscreants of the City. Gil circled Isabella, who was struggling against the tight bonds securing her to a lamppost. A dead Watch officer lay bathing in a growing pool of crimson on the ground beside her.

As the man lowered his arms and stopped walking, the cries and bellows died down until finally a tense silence filled the air.

"Here we are at last. We knew this day would come. We knew we would finish what we had once failed to do." He paused and closed his eyes, sucking in a large breath of air.

Even from the rooftops across the garden, Garrett could see that the man relished the power he held over the gathering. The people clung onto his every word, eager to hear what he would say next. The scene reminded Garrett vaguely of dogs awaiting their master's next command.

"That man," he gestured towards the mansion in front of him, "claims to be the City's saviour; he claims that he will scourge the town of the evil residing within it. He says this, yet what does he do? He taints the streets with his wretched Watch officers, the true evil of the City! He says all this, while he sits nice and pretty in his ivory tower." The man spit on the ground, prompting more shouting. The noise stopped abruptly when he raised his hand.

"And what do we do? What do we do to someone who's taken everything from us and left us for dead in the ratholes of the city?" He turned to Isabella, who immediately froze in place, then sauntered over to her slowly. "We take what's his, and we destroy it." He growled the last few words as he stepped closer to the trembling figure in front of him.

"No! No! Please! Don't-" Isabella fell silent when he pressed his dagger against her neck. With his other hand, he grasped a fistful of her hair and held her head in place as she whimpered in fear.

"But," he said as he slowly lowered the blade, "We are not savages. We are by no means evil. We wouldn't kill this girl in cold blood." He chuckled as he ruffled her hair playfully. Isabella flinched from his touch and looked horrifyingly up at him. His tone suddenly darkened, all mirth leaving his face, as he growled, "we'd only kill her if we have very good reason to."

Garrett slowly reached for his bow, his fingers hovering over an arrow in his quiver just in case things got out of hand. He wasn't too keen on revealing his presence to a crowd of people, but neither was he on letting a young girl be slaughtered.

"Our actions in the past may have been a little... zealous. Tonight, we will face the Baron like men. Let's pray, for the poor soul of this lovely young lady here, that he's accepting visitors tonight."

He whistled, and two men approached Isabella and cut her off of the lamppost. They forced her hands behind her back and bound them together before roughly pushing her forward towards the mansion. She made a weak and stupid, in Garrett's opinion, attempt to kick herself free from her captors. They only laughed at the feeble effort and backhanded her so hard that she fell to the ground before she promptly pushed herself upright again. The girl had spirit, Garrett thought, he'd at least give her that.

Gil barked at his lackeys to take her to a building across the square before turning back to the eager crowd.

"Now," Gil shouted over the clamour of the mob, "we've come this far. What say we end this?"