Morgand strolled through the heart of Reajh, trying not to mind the undeniable bustle of the streets and get into a proper watchman swagger despite being interrupted at every turn. He looked about the street level populace and scratched his bristling jaw in frustration, the crowd not moving for him like it did on a good day, before turning his eyes up at the flag poles glinting in the midday sun, flying the colours of Connlaoth and the Grand Duke both today.
Those flags reminded him there was a life beyond the city walls, a whole country and a war to boot, not that he had any interest in it. The world seemed at once concentrated and expansive at times like this. He would have liked to have had his family there, tell his son about early days in the City Watch, and his daughter about the massive park that used to be around the corner.
But Marton had fallen ill a few nights back and his mother refused to allow her boy to be exposed to the harsh elements of a warm day at noon... Nor would she let just Morgand and Jaspia go together, the last time that happened still being a sore spot between husband and wife, and an amusing memory for Jaspia.
So it was just Morgand, wandering the streets in full Watchman attire despite being off duty, paying visits and respects to the people he convinced himself he liked and the people who owed him favours. It was all going quite well, easy enough to get by with his uniform and arms at the ready, despite the crowd being thicker than thieves, and probably thick with thieves as well for that matter, there being no room for people to avoid the City's Watch-Dog. He swore on his life people used to let him pass unmolested as if he were a king once.
And then a thought struck Morgand, one he hadn't had in nearly a year at least...
Where was the King today of all days? He wondered, stopping there in the street, and taking a moment to look about himself, fully expecting the old rogue to slip from between the bricks.
Near this time for the last 8...or was it 18 years? Either way, it had been so that a man had always appeared on the Grand Duke's birthday or any celebration really, and taken to protesting against the Grand Duke and all he stood for, declaring himself the true ruler of Reajh and indeed Connlaoth. Of course, the man didn't just appear from no where, though it seemed like he managed to disappear easily enough each time he was confronted. Morgand knew the man could be found, with a little work and patience, though why anyone would want to was beyond Morgand at least, unless they wanted to hear of the conspiracy surrounding all of Connlaoth.
Without fail, near a damned tradition in itself by this point, The King would appear at some point during the festivities, to start his spiel and then get skittish when a minion of the Usurper grew near, or at least until someone told him to fuck off forcefully.
Morgand chuckled, remembering the night he did that, 5 maybe 6 years ago? Just so he wouldn't have to deal with the old man's speech. Since then he never tried to bother The King, there was no real profit nor harm in it, and Morgand even felt some kinship with the old fool, jealous of men in high places.
Morgand was about to spit and say an oath when, indefinitely, a shout rung out across the crowd and turning to the other side of the square, all could see where a ball of rags and beard was winding up to start his declaration, only to be cut off and chased off by one of the new Watch boys.
Morgand sniffed disinterestedly, and started moving towards the podium, not in a hopes of catching the old rat, that was rarely possible, but just to give the appearance of pursuit. It was too late he realised that the crowd was being far more eager to step aside than before, and had opened a channel for, not Morgand, but the King's desperate sprint, jeering him and cheering him in equal parts. It was too late that Morgand noticed this, because The King was coming right for him.
