User blog:Emperor Maximus/Age of Industry: Tales From the Fireside

(Just a tiny bit of background information: this is (hopefully) going to be an ongoing blog-story-series-thing set in the AoI universe (because that seems to be what all the cool kids are doing these days). It will involve an old man telling stories to his grandson during the long winter evenings, tales of the world long before the Age of Industry. Hope you enjoy.)

'Papa, I don't want to go to bed!' the small child said in defiance. He was a small lad, maybe 6 or 7 years of age. His black hair was short and messy, and he wore a grubby tunic.

'You have to go to bed, otherwise you will be tired and grumpy in the morning,' his father said firmly. 'Now go up there, all of your brothers and sisters are waiting. You don't want to make them wait, do you?'

The child looked a little less sure of himself now. Perhaps his father was right? And he did so hate it when his siblings were annoyed with him. 'But I want to stay down here, with the fire, and grandfather,' he said in a small voice.

'Grandfather wants to go to bed too. And once you get in it, the bed will be warm like the fire.'

From across the room a voice spoke up. 'It's okay, he can stay here with me. I wasn't planning on heading off yet, anyway.' The voice came from a figure sitting in a large armchair situated right by the fire, shadows dancing on the old man's face.

'See? Grandfather wants me to stay down here and keep him company.' Before his father could react, the boy had scuttled off to the fireplace and sat down in front of it.

His father sighed, but walked off up the staircase. 'Shouldn't encourage the boy...' he muttered under his breath.

'Hello grandfather!' the boy said, pleased to have got his own way at last. 'Can you tell me a story?'

'A story?' the old man asked. 'Yes, I can do that. What kind of story would you like to hear?' He was quite old, this grandfather. Wispy tufts of white hair stuck out from his head, and tired blue eyes looked fondly at the child.

'I like the stories about Dick Turpin,' the child said. 'He's my favourite hero ever!'

The grandfather smiled at that. 'Don't let your father catch you saying things like that, boy, he isn't fond of old Turpin's history. But, no matter; settle down, and I shall tell you a tale of Dick's adventures.'

___________

The horse reared up and whinnied, its cries the only audible sound in the dark night that had descended upon the crossroads.

'Shhh!' hissed the rider. He was a man cloaked in black, with a mask obscuring his face from anyone who could be watching. 'Settle down, or they'll know that we're waiting for them. And we want the element of surprise to be in our favour.'

From far off, down the beaten track, the faint sound of wheels clattering could be heard. Closer and closer it came. Within 10 minutes the glow of a lantern pierced the gloom of night, and the shape of the carriage emerged into sight.

The figure sat astride the horse had been remaining stock still, but now he charged forwards, his horse snorting, and he yelled out 'Stand and deliver! your money or your life!'

The occupants of the carriage squealed in distress and shock, while the horses drawing it tried to run away.

The man rode up and sliced up the reins so that the horses could escape. A dark shape ran after them, probably the driver. The carriage was now stuck where it was. With this mysterious figure.

'Well now, what do we have here?' the man asked as he trotted up to the window. Inside, the carriage was lined with velvet and had two occupants. One was a woman in expenisve clothing, cowering in the embrace of the other occupant. He was a fine specimen of the aristocracy, a dapper black suit and exquisite bow tie marking him out as being of high importance and value.

'Wh-what do you want with us?' the man asked nervously.

'You're Dick Turpin, aren't you?' the woman said, her voice quivering with fright.

Their captor cocked his head and smiled. 'Why, yes, I am. But I see that my reputation preceeds me. Tell me, do you know why I have waited here for you this night?'

The woman shook her head, but the man offered an explanation. 'You were just waiting at the crossroads for any kind of prey, we happened to be the first to cross your path?'

'Actually,' Turpin began, 'No. Sometimes that is how my... business partners... are found, but not tonight. You see, madame,' he spoke now to the woman, 'This man you are travelling with is of special interest to me. Lord Callum here is not who he may have told you.

'Would it interest you to know that he is actually married, and you are the fourth girl this week he has picked up with his charms only to be taken home, bonked a few times, and then discarded? He may have wooed you with sweet talk about how you are the only woman he could ever love, but in reality you are worth little more than the average whore from Anvil to him.'

This caused a definite reaction in both of them. Lord Callum's face froze in shock, and the woman slowly removed herself from his arms and moved over to the other side of the seat.

'But that is not what I am here for,' Turpin added. 'Whilst ridding the world of such a disgusting and worthless specimen would no doubt be gratifying in and of itself, I waited here because he is also a figure of political importance. He pretends to be a social butterfly, flitting between soirées and parties every other day, with little time for real work; but this is just a mask. Lord Callum is in fact one of Emperor Kamodus' most trusted - and most discrete - advisors. Who would have thought it, eh?'

'Stop this Dick,' Callum growled, interrupting the highwayman. 'You can still be given an official pardon if you hand yourself in now.'

Dick Turpin ignored these comments, and carried on as though nothing had happened.

'There is a false panel right behind your head, dear madame. In it are papers concerning the movements and identities of the brave men and women who fight for The Cause. Apparently they are denying the tyrannical and obsessive reign of a fool, and deserve to be captured and executed. Now I cannot let that happen. If you would so kindly-'

The highwayman was interrupted by Lord Callum yelling in anger and leaping out the side of the carriage, tackling Dick to the ground. Taken by surprise, he did not have time to react, and so was pinned to the ground.

'It's over. Your little rebellion will end with your death, and Kamodus will live on!' Callum grinned at his superior position, his breath strongly reminiscent of Cyrodiilic brandy and other smells, less usual for a supposedly respectable man.

Turpin had no idea what to do. Callum was slipping a knife out from the lining of his coat, and would kill him in just a few moments.

But then Callum grunted, and his grip on Turpin loosened. Dick threw the lord off him, and without a second thought impaled him with his blade. When he looked up he saw the woman that had been in the carriage, a silver-tipped cane in her hand. Her face was frightened, only now taking on what had just happened.

Dick Turpin smiled, and took her hand. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.

'Welcome to the Resistance.'