Town

the mud beneath my feet added a lovely depth to the brown leather that aged my favourite boots, I thought as I strolled through the street merchants trying to part their wares with coin. taking great care to smile at each Holy Man I saw and making sure I waved at every Holy Man I made eye contact with. I had seen it before when someone didn't pay the 'proper respects' to one of these Men of God, they would be fined a great sum, and if they did not have the coin to hand at that very moment, they would be severely beaten and then exiled south of the living line.

Here in Halifax, a small town, the textile Mills could be smelt for nearly a mile and the people bickering over the price of wares could be heard for nearly a mile away. the clouds blotted out the sun here and there, but the brisk air of the cold morning felt good inside my lungs.

The butcher cart sat parked near George's Square, and had a small crowd of women haggling down cost of the meat they would take home to their families. A fat man with a walrus mustache and a bloody apron tipped his straw hat that had a colourful ribbon sat atop its crown at a woman who had finally agreed to pay his price and then handed her a package wrapped in brown paper tied with red string.

Soon the cart emptied and the two butches rubbed their hands together with a smile before packing up their make-shift stall whilst whistling a tune. I made my way further in to George's Square to browse the market and pass pleasantries with the keepers of the stalls. One such woman smiled at me and winked, despite her bruiser of a husband dragging his knuckles as he paced from one side of the stall to the other trying to spy out petty thieves to beat. I returned the gesture with a nervous smile as I passed.

George's Square was busy, many voices could be heard at a level where not a single one was distinguishable. The sun had decided to show its face and brighten up my day in town as I made my way through the throng of shoppers to buy an apple from the stall at the end. The shadow of the stone buildings flanking the east and west sides of the square caused a cold air flow which pushed most of the people through the central passage of the stalls as to keep to the areas warmed by the sun.

'Apples for a tuppence' read the sign that hung from the base of the table set up by a skinny man with a broken nose, he had the look of a typical crooked staller, someone who sells stollen goods cheap. But with the amount of Holy Men near by, seven I had smiled at so far, I would assume that this man was legitimate. So I purchased myself three apples, and placed two in my jacket pockets. As I enjoyed my fruit, I observed the crowd, such a diverse people lived here in Halifax, even here in the square, I could see the poor rubbing elbows with the rich. Fear of the lower classes too getting close died off with the exile sentencing for pick pockets. One woman stood out from the crowd as she wore a powder blue bonnet tied with a periwinkle lace. She seemed to glide rather than walk. Elegantly moving through the ever loud shoppers. My eyes followed her as she approached a stall and a monster of a man served her with his wife joining him at his side, giving the customer a warm smile. But then the cart keepers wife laid her eyes on me again and smiled from ear to ear and began fanning herself fervently. This got the attention of one of the few braincells in her husbands mind and he followed her gaze and looked at me. My eyes where firmly upon the powder blue bonnet, waiting to get a glance at the wearers face, hoping it was that of an angel. The cart keepers brow began to quiver as his brain tried to jump-start an idea.

The sound of many heavy boots came pounding from the north of the square as a patrol of soldiers passed with a clergyman leading them in his proud brilliant white robes and tall white biretta with a golden trim. his golden staff could be heard hammering the cobbles with each step he took. The soldiers all wearing the traditional red tunic and white kit straps all sported a quick cap musket. Their black polished boots announcing their arrival long before they were seen.

People made room for the advancing patrol, stepping aside when they needed to, and stepping back to browse the stalls when the soldiers passed. Then they came close to me, I smiled at the leading holyman and nodded with respect before stepping aside for the patrol to pass, and thats when I looked up and over the soldiers heads to the stall with the bruiser of a man to find him staring at me with a face that only showed intense unusual concentration of thinking. The poor man seemed to be causing himself internal pain figuring out whatever was flopping around half heartedly inside his cranium.

The Clergyman called for the patrol to halt and spun upon his heels and walked straight up up to me, I smiled again and tipped my flat cap as he approached. "charmed." he said sniffing as he held a handkerchief to his nose and mouth, "I'm sure." he continued, the high authority obvious upon his voice. "I hear that this... charming settlement has a god given talent in extracting wool from the bleating beasts in the fields. I desire a new coat. Made from your finest wool ofcourse." he said angelically with a dismissive twirling of his handkerchiefed hand, "of course." I replied politely, "The outdoor marker is probably not the best for your holiness, then. Perhaps try the Indoor Market down the passage there." I said pointing passed the pious leader and down the cooling street. "Ah. Many thanks, My good man. and God bless." he responded and called for his patrol to follow.

"Thief!" bellowed a deep roar from across the stalls and everybody froze in fear and wide eyed. Eyes flicking from face to face to find the accuser and then the accused. And then I saw a dirty fat finger pointing directly at me. The owner on the finger was the monster of a man who's wife had smiled at me earlier.

The soldiers quickly surrounded me, the holyman approached without hiding his distain of me. "And your proof, sir?" asked the leader to the cart keeper who smiled in return. "I seen him steal apples. he taken two in his pockets there! see! thief!" A soldier quickly shoved his hand inside my jacket pockets and promptly found two apples that I had indeed paid for, but before I could protest I felt something hard smash in to the back of my skull, and all went black.

I was now a Thief. No doubt damned to the Plaguelands.