Don't Mine At Night

III

    Petty thievery was something that most every sensible guard, royal or no, had training in dealing with. The rationale was that if good folks had good things to steal, they would be stolen. Those that were poor and down on their luck with nothing to lose didn't care enough for what came if they were caught. If they got away with it, then great- another win and they'd try again next week to see if Lady Fate had been smiling on them or if they'd finally mastered the art of thievery. If they didn't, well, being thrown into jail meant three solid meals a day (even if it was bread, cheese, and water. For them, it was a king's feast) and a roof over their heads. That was more than what a life of poverty had given them.  Unfortunately for that logic, the kingdom's residents didn't quite agree with paying taxes just to fund giving a dirty cell to an ever-growing poor population- who enjoyed taking and not giving back- like passing out flyers to a  fancy new carnival. Thusly, in very recent years, poorhouses and hostels were created in hopes of lowering the current crime rates and goading the public into compliance- the jails, now, were saved for prisoners of more serious offences; murder, foul-play, treason, and those unlucky enough to be on death row. 

   Crime wasn't much of a problem after the threat of a guillotine loomed over your head. Still, though, Danny dealt with things such as these on the daily. It was his job, after all. He was well-trained with a sword and had a cutting authoritative voice to match. Years of training and dealing with slimy perpetrators that slunk in with each trade caravan sharpened his talents into freshly forged daggers. He could wave a hand and convince a crowd of people to disengage a scene, he could lift his broadsword, eye-level with a pickpocket, and frighten him into submission without a skirmish- and most importantly, he could calm each victim down with the least amount of possible public disturbance. These were the important qualities of a public defender- ones he'd worked impossibly hard on improving and maintaining. Danny was hard-edged, like a blade.

Once, when Daniel had first begun patrolling, he'd flesh out those who'd seemed suspicious enough and use intimidation as a tactic to persuade any who'd attempt the life of crime- or perhaps those who had done so and were in hiding. He'd give large-scale speeches, standing upon a parapet smack in the middle of the marketplace square. Now, when he passes by any shady figures, an acknowledging nod is all that is required to push them back into the shadows, the sword that hangs from his hip a warning to all. He's built up a steady reputation through perseverance and confidence- and nothing, nothing, will ever tear that down.

Today is no different. Except that, to Danny, something was off. Something was different about the air. There was a static that hung just above his shoulders, that lined his spine and made the sweat that gathered on the back of his neck cold, and his stomach prickled with unease. It was as if the universe was preparing for something, something bad, something dangerous. And it kept like that all morning until just around noon, it stilled- as he was beginning to make his rounds back to the castle. He thought, maybe, for once, it was just the anxiety. Things had been rather still this week and perhaps he was expecting too much, he'd been dwelling on the thought that someone was about to jump out at him around every corner, every backstreet and alleyway, or maybe a dragon attacking the town- a bundle of nerves.

Danny didn't know exactly what time the shouting began, when the alarm went off, when a large number of troops were deployed from within the castle walls, when something very precious and very costly was taken, plucked as if it were nothing, all too easy, from the King's bed-chambers. The sun was high in the sky, and, Danny remembered that his armour was feeling a little heavy on his shoulders. There was a dog, barking across the street, startled by the noise. There was a mother, washing laundry, hanging up a bedsheet to dry on a clothesline- he'd waved to her as he passed by. It had happened all at once, a horse reared, scared, toppling over a cart of cabbages, someone screamed as their loved one was nearly trampled by the beasts' thundering hooves. It got loose from the wagon, crashing into several seller's stands, knocking a board away from a stable gate and releasing a flock of agitated chickens into the street in its wake.  Danny watched as chaos erupted, as time seemed to slow, allowing him to witness a peaceful market square reduced to a flood of people, all panicked and confused.