View source for BNN:Dungeons and Flagons 10/20/08

<center><p><FONT color="#800000" face="Monotype Corsiva" size="15">Dungeons and Flagons</font></p></center>


Posted by Jeremy Dalberg  10/20/08    


Avery woke up in a crumpled heap, his head lodged up against moist brick and legs pulled askew by iron shackles. He’d been thrown here, he realized, probably after he passed out during the last round of interrogations.

His eyes were still closed. He listened, carefully, keeping his breathing as regular as possible, trying to determine whether he was being watched. It was darker, wherever he was, unlike the bright room where he’d been held for hours previously.

Memories began swimming back into focus – tracking down Casca, the glass knives, that woman… the woman, what was her name? Started with an M… didn’t matter, the witch had practically thrown him into the arms of the guards. Then the questions, the accusations, why did they think… 

"Hey there," the hoarse voice cut through the fog in his mind - Avery barely maintained his feigned incapacity. Metal rustled and clinked, someone moved forward. The other man coughed deeply, trying to clear his throat. 

"I know you’re awake," the other man began, "Look, I’m not one of them, see." The other prisoner punctuated his sentence by shaking his chains, then coughing again.

Avery remained silent.

"Oh come now, Captain! Don’t you remember old friends?"

Avery cracked an eye open, even the dim light of the cell was still blinding, but he could just make out the man cuffed to the wall across from him. "How do you know who I…" he began to ask, rising to his feet, as his vision came back into focus. 

"You!"

"Aye, m’lord, Britannia’s finest thief, at your service." Ricardo smiled. 

-- 

"To victory!" Casca raised his mug. "To Britannia’s finest!" 

"Hurrah!" the chorus broke out around the room. The celebration of Avery’s capture was an event to be remembered. The dining hall of Castle British resounded with cheers and loud voices, soldiers and guards and nobles all brought together by Casca’s call to mark the glorious day when justice had been done, and the Royal Council avenged.

A soldier nearby hoisted his own mug, "To Casca! A true hero!" 

Casca tried to admonish them amidst the shouts and clamors, meekly refuting the honors they were heaping upon him. "But remember! Remember my friends! It was you who were the true heroes!"
Shouts, laughs, clapping. 

"And we remember who betrayed us! And who betrayed them, our loyal leaders!" 

The shouting overtook the clapping, turning angry, defiant.

"What was his name?" Casca yelled, knowing the answer.

"Avery!" A reply in unison.

"What shall we do with him?" His voice rose above the fury, clear as thunder over the rain.

"Hang him!" "Kill him!" A dozen other retorts and cries for vengeance.

"No, no! My friends," Casca dropped his voice, and the crowd followed suit, waiting upon his next words. "We will not murder him in cold blood."

The crowd breathed in as one.

"We will not butcher him as he did the innocents of the Royal Council!"

Nods, murmurs, solemn fists jammed into the air.

"But we will have justice!" 

The crowd erupted into applause, and Casca smiled.




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