Lynda killed a few hours reacquainting herself with the city, taking a long walk to remember where things were or used to be from her childhood, and a quick dinner of bread and salted pork at home having returned to dump the useless papers. When the night’s sky started to encroach on the day, Lynda took up a small candle lantern and headed out to King’s Way, the ancient road that bisected Trinima like a great river and was half of the dividing line between the four quadrants of the city, crossing the north and south divide.

The protest was easy enough to find after that point; Lynda could hear the crowd’s chanting and marching before she was anywhere near to see it. Peacekeeper cordons on the ends of the major streets prevented direct access, so trying her inexperienced hand at stealth she slipped through one of the small alleyways that lead between the buildings of the city. The giant easily stepped over the old barricades that made it harder for the invading forces to retake the old streets. The stonework was pitted and battered, and scrawled with old paint and codes that Lynda couldn’t recognise but soon the lights of the street lamps once more bloomed and washed out the pitiful candle she had brought with her just as she made it to the end of the ally.

In front of her, in a densely packed mob, was the throng of Outcastes in worn and battered clothes of the sub class, though Lynda noted the same haphazard alterations to them that had scarred her own dresses. Oddities and encumbrances littered the crowd; men with half formed crab claws and women hunched painfully with wings sprouting from their backs were the more extreme ends of the unfortunate spectrum; some merely had a little bit of scale that framed the face or a somewhat more animalistic hint to the features.

The giant stepped out of the alley mouth and into the street proper; holding her lantern up to help light her way through the crowd, though all it did was draw attention to her as even a few of the gathered aberrations looked startled by Lynda’s sheer scale.

“Messengers above, yer a biggen ain’t ya!” A man carrying a banner said, but as Lynda turned to address him he was swallowed up by the crowd. Were it not for her height, she would have become part of the faceless mob herself; however she had still been swept up in the host of the downtrodden, pushed forward by them as the only other option would be to try and stop. If that happened people would try to walk through her or worse over her.

Still, she had wanted to come, wanted to see this. She had wanted to stand with others like her who had been brought low by others...So why did nerves play across the giant’s mind?

As the crowd got closer and more densely packed, a voice seemed to start to drift over the assembled horde, which was answered back in kind by a cacophonous bellow. The words of the responses were lost to the general noise, as each person responding said something different to the next. Lynda followed the garbled din and looked over the heads of the crowd, seeing before many the reason that the crowd’s progress was impeded; a line of Peacekeepers who all stood in simple leather armour and thin wooden shield made for turning away cobble stones. In the centre of the line, their leather armour replaced by a simple plumed bicorn and a shining breastplate, was an officer lifting a simple speaking trumpet to his lips.

“Please disperse! Please disperse!” The Peacekeeper officer demanded, aiming his words at the mass of the unusual and warped people before him. To these words the crowd at the front of the demonstration barked responses in return, but without a unified voice it had merged into a garbled rabble; the note of discontent however spoke loud and clear.

The officer grumbled, looking along the line of peacekeepers, and once more spoke to the audience as they waved banners and placards. “Please disperse and return to your homes. There are many ways to make yourselves heard but this isn’t it one of them. Please disperse.”

This, of course, was met with confusion and further frustration rather than meek capitulation.

The press of the crowd made it hard for Lynda to move around; her scale made it more difficult to squeeze past as the crowd stood shoulder to shoulder, though what she had to avoid more than anything were the placards being waved with reckless abandon that threatened to hit her in the teeth or to slice her eye out with a corner.

Still, her height gave her some advantages as she squeezed her way through the crowd from convenient opening to opening; in reality all she had managed to do was get a little closer to the front, pressed into one side of the street. Fortune had granted her some small providence however; her height and placement gave her a good chance to see the key figures on both sides of the demonstration. Her eyes briefly cast a glance at the Peacekeepers; she had expected anxiety to play on them as they looked out at the upset Outcastes, but their faces seemed more as if they were annoyed before anything else even though this was a delicate situation. Their faces, for the most part, were covered by their helms but the body language spoke volumes; a sort of pent up energy that had lost its patience a long time ago and was just waiting.

Lynda hoped that one of them, in the line-up, wasn’t Clarky as a realisation played across her mind; if she could see the line that meant that he could see her. He would have seen her in the protesting crowd, going against him in the line up.

Lynda cursed under her breath; too late to worry about it now though as that was a discussion to be had with him over breakfast the next morning.

Lynda rested a hand on a hanging rail of a balcony that was slightly above her, using it to support herself as she leant out a little and looked around the street.

The voice of the officer once more rang out above the yells and complaints. “You need to go home. If you do not go home, you will be in breach of the amendment seventeen of the Charter of the Two Kings which declares gatherings such as this unlawful!” He took a breath as a small growl seemed to etch his lips. “You will disperse! NOW!”

Lynda could almost feel the crowd heating up, the press of bodies and the shouts coalescing. Drifts of words slipped through the cracks in the sound about how this wasn’t unlawful, how this was an outrage, asking how they could do this to us. Lynda started to look concerned as she continued to search for Gort; he had told her about this, he had to be here to help straighten it out and maybe a man of his natural charisma could take charge of the situation and be a mediator for both sides?

Maybe she was just hoping against hope that someone would come and sort this out.

The Officer’s patience was waning fast, as he almost spat before continuing. “Fine.” He began, pulling a strip of parchment from his pocket and unfolding it with a thumb. “Our Sovereign Lord, the Office of the Regent, charges and commands all persons, here assembled, to disperse immediately...” He read, his eyes drifting away from the crowd and to the page before him.

Lynda nearly drew blood with how hard she bit on her own lip, as the Office began to read the page. She had no idea what it meant but jumped to the conclusion that it couldn’t be good. The giant’s black eyes darted across the crowd for Gort as panic started to set in on her face. She even pulled herself a little higher using the edge of the balcony, leaning out further to try and find him.

He had to be there, he just...

A black suit among the shabby clothes and concealing robes, with a large and toothy grin with what looked to be expensive tastes stood towards the back as if he had shown up late to his own party.

Gort stood among the tumult as if he was perfectly at home. Lynda waved a hand, trying to encourage him to come forward, though her words were lost under the roar of displeasure trying to cover the Officer’s words. She kept as close an eye on him as she could, but he turned and seemed to wave at other people in the crowd as he seemed to just slip back a step or two...

As the man that had been Gort’s bodyguard earlier slid forward and pulled back a hand. Not just him, but several others, all moving with an odd precision among the crowd, all wearing the same shabby black suits as the bodyguard had.

In each hand held a stone.

Lynda’s words were lost in the crowd as she shouted for them to stop, but despite her wish the stones flew from their fingers as if shot from a sling. Many of them bounced off of the simple wooden shields, replying into the crowd at the front and causing harm there, but one slammed into the peacekeeper Captain’s head, sending his bicorn spinning away. The captain fell backwards, red blood bursting forth as he hit the ground and did not move again.

That is when a peaceful demonstration, became a war.

And as the giant stood, trying to think on what to do next, world turned black.