"How can we possibly afford to feed ourselves...!"
"... when we are being driven away from our work!"
"We want equal opportunity to work as those foreigners that mage brought along!"
A crowd clashed against iron-bound soldiers, who held their shields firmly at the border, pushing the two groups into a near-solid state of combustion. For two hours, while Markus was leaving the swampland, the people of the surrounding villages to the capital had gathered at the gates and doors of the capital -- at the gates of the royal castle, demanding answers for why they were not tasked to work. Talks of paying the 'workers' who made the road from the capital more had permeated through the people, who in-turn felt themselves cheated.
While they would normally work their own fields and provided payment through their harvests, there was a president for workers being allowed a certain percentage off their tax if they worked on a government project. The sight of foreign men and women, working in droves, did not begin to stir these people to anger, but a rumor of their origin and payment had begun to churn. 'Foreign workers', 'payment in wheat' or 'payed in gold', 'given residence', or even paying off sentences through labor that could have been used by the citizens of Kremnos to get a write-off from their taxes.
"Damnit all to Hell!" They shouted with bloodied throats. "Damn that mage and his cohorts! We wanted that work, we wanted to live better lives than what this damned reign has given us!" A dissonant voice was clearly breaking through the crowd. It was one that belonged to someone young and brash, yet so clearly learned in the ways of speaking to a crowd. "We are all citizens of this place, of Kremnos, so why has the 'prince' been allowed to cast us aside so flippantly?"
"Step back, citizen." With enforced steel, a guard laid in polished armor steps onto face the shouting preacher. He is accompanied by three others, all equally armored yet clearly not holding as much sway. "Speak ill all you wish of the administrator of your districts, but leave the names of the royalty out."
The speaker finally broke out from the crowd, his face was pale and fresh, his eyes filled with hate for the man before him, and his hair waved as an ashened brown mane. He was dressed well, sharp, with a sense of fashion reserved for the academics of the lower quarters. "So, we can only speak ill of those who plainly take the words of our 'glorious royals'? Is that it? To Hell with them then, and to Hell with the 'prince' and his uncaring lord!" He had stepped a step too far, despite his reluctance that was etched on his face, he was struck in the stomach and made to growl with sneer. The guard ahead took him by the arm, hoisting him up onto an armored shoulder before shouting for the others to disperse.
"Leave or be named in report! We are on duty, we are here to serve the country you serve, too! So steer clear of this place, return to your homes and let us conduct in peace!" His voice was met with howling clamor against him, and a few rotten fruits. His spat out his mouth fragments of pulp before his subordinates covered his back while he walked away.
"Damn these peasant, can't they see how we try for them?"
"They cannot."
"Then they are fools, are they not?"
"They are, sir."
"Then would it not be easier to simply do as we do for children?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I believe that is why we are so dissonant against you, o' sir." The man atop the lead knight's shoulder is dropped to the ground of the inner courtyard, his shoulder nearly cracking out from its socket. "Is that any way to treat one of your fellow men?"
"Do you deny us our satisfaction?"
"Yes." The man watched quietly as the guard silently stared down, no signs of actions or rebuttal would surface from beneath the helm. "Caught your tongue?"
"What is your name?"
"Babbage."
"Quite the odd name for a citizen of Kremnos, are you from the Conquered Lands?"
'Babbage' spat out a laugh, his eyes almost lined with tears from what he had heard. No-one who considered people from the 'Conquered Lands' as fellow citizens would call it that. "If you mean from Kremnos, then yes."
"I shall take it then that you are..."
"Second generation, though that hardly matters to you, right?"
"Why would someone from the Conquered Lands be taken seriously, you people hardly take being Kremnoan seriously."
"Because whether you or us like it or not: we are still Kremnoan, and we deserve to be treated fairly because of that. If not, then why would we be conquered?"
'Babbage' did not receive a word back, even through his further questions the lead guard stayed silent. Even as Babbage was thrown back out to the streets, the subordinates followed their leader in manners, even as the crowd that still lingered at the gate was given back their helm. "Return to your homes, or be imprisoned on charges of mutiny", that was enough for the people to begin doubting themselves. When that was not enough, 'Babbage' encouraged them to return the next day as he would. The guards gave one-another quiet looks as the final members of the mob faded into the city outside, deciding to then finally sit on the stone beneath them.
"Off your asses, men, we still have a duty to serve out for today", the leading voice among them resounded against the walls around them.
"Sir Minos, may we have a moment of rest?" The youngest sounding guard was met with a cold gaze from past the face-plate of Minos' helm. "Understood, sorry, sir."
"That goes for the rest of you as well - we still have an hour at the most on this shift. If that half-footed bastard gets to see you like that again today, I will personally make us take two shifts tomorrow." Minos knew that would not be realistic, the paperwork alone was already too far ahead to gain an addition for tomorrow. Still, he believed that such threats were needed to maintain some semblance of order, even if the men only believed it for a second.
...
As the sun began to rest on the horizon, as time shifted past that even, a new group of armored guards arrived at the post where Minos stood with his own men. At the head of this new group was a shorter man, but one whose leg was clearly severed and replaced by a metallic prosthetic. "I see your men have stopped slacking, Minos."
"The duty of the guards is to stand, not rest."
"Didn't stop 'em before, won't stop 'em now." The 'half-footed' man looked around the yard Minos guarded, spotting marks of conflict. "I see someone got hit around here, maybe some rotten fruits too? And is that juice I see on your head? Were the farmers too much for you today, again?"
"Shut it", Minos shoved a small tablet with paper pressed into it. "Here are today's pass words, and notable events." His men formed up around him as they too passed notes to their replacements before Minos' group disbanded from the location and retreated inside the building they guard.
Minos took a seat in the small barracks room, reserved for the knight guards as he was assigned. His helmet is lifted, his unkempt black hair draping down, covering his brown eyes. By a first glance he appears like a common man, if only strange by his size and girth. A heavy sigh reaches the surface of his helm while he stares into the face of it, seeing the cold 'facade' of it that others see. Beside him goes down to lay the youngest of his troupe, a man by the name of Eromean, whose armor roughly clatters between itself and the soft mattress. "Why do you put up with that 'half foot', that Ergon?"
"Watch your tone, he is your superior... but... his position is the as mine, it would not do good for the moral of his men if I were to demean him. His contributions, even for an old-timer, are enough to earn some meager respect by me, too."
"... boring."
"Then how about that 'Babbage', quite the mouth for such a scrawny man." Minos looked between his men, all looking between one-another with a sense of urgency. "Don't tell me, you think he might cause a stir? Men like him are bit too brash and idealistic to hold any merit."
Eromean stood his head up from the bed, slowly raising the rest of his body in the same motion, resting it on his hand to ponder. "... he seemed like he knew what he was talking about, at least put on the front."
"A front is nothing without backing, so I suggest you heed what you say here, Eromaen."
"Glory to the empire... (or what's left of it, anyway...)"
Minos watched the young knight guard polish the armor of his with a rag, leaving behind a satisfactory result, though not something he would accept from a cadet.
Is this really what we talk about?
How can I call them knights when they allow such blasphemy against the empress and 'prince'?
For how long will this last... o' mage of the foreign academy...
How thou hast cursed us with troubles.
...
Minos rose in shudder, not realising just how fast he had slept. His fellows had seemingly dispersed, leaving only Eromaen. The 'boy' had taken out a deck of tarot cards, played a game of 'confinement' by himself, somehow leaving his leader watching the worst attempt he had ever seen in his life. Minos managed to walk up right to Eromaen's shoulder without the man noticing a single sound of armor clashing at itself. "How terrible can a man be at a game?" The young guard nearly jumped out his armor, only toppling over on his chair. "... and how easily frightened, is that any way for a guard to be?"
"S-SorrySir! Iwasnotexpectingyoutosuddenlywake-"
"Speak clearly:" Minos moved over to settle the chair back into place before himself sitting on it and looking over the game of 'confinement'. "Why do you pretend to know how to play this? It is a baron's game, and you are but a farmer's son..."
Eromaen, after some time, got up and sat on the side of his bed, watching his leader play the game Eromaen left 'unsolved'. "After you... rested... I and the others talked some about that Babbage fellow, about his education and the like. And I thought... I thought-"
"That you should strive to a similar level?"
"Yes."
"Then I suppose failing at the simplest game is a good step."