The denizens of the lower districts of Sklaviunt woke up to the domineering voice of Zenon who, with the aid of a megaphone and standing atop an elevated platform, announced his intent to all who cared to listen.
The Call of Dawn had just concluded when his voice echoed across all five districts.
"There was an attack against a member of the Tribunal last night, an attack that was orchestrated by a terrorist. We have reason to believe that this man, along with his fellow cohorts, is currently hiding amongst you lot. That is why I am here, to ask that you give them up now, for the safety of your homes."
He paused momentarily, watching as the people of the lower districts emerged from their houses, expressions marred with confusion as they stared at him.
Most were filthy, with very few appearing passable and even then, there was no way to get rid of the smell.
Zenon stared down at them with a disgusted look despite once being like them.
Once again placing the megaphone close to his mouth, he remarked. "As long as you give up these bad eggs, I promise we will cause you no harm. However, failure to do as instructed shall result in terrible consequences. Now then, I will give you lot ten minutes to make your choice."
After saying that, he stepped down from the platform to join the rows of task force officers that were lined up on the street separating the middle districts from the lower ones.
They held their guns at the ready, all in full uniform.
Numbering over two hundred, they were like ants compared to the thousands of people that inhabited the slums, but it didn’t matter.
There were more ways than one to deal with the disparity in numbers.
Confusion spread rapidly among those in the lower districts as it appeared to be the first time they had heard anything about a terrorist organization.
Naturally, some were familiar with the terrifying tremor from the night before, but no one could have possibly known why it occurred.
Unfortunately, they knew that no one would listen.
No matter what they said, they would always be the villains.
That’s how it had always been since the beginning.
Food shortage?... Blame the slums.
Theft?... Blame the slums.
An accident?... Still blame the slums.
There was no escaping it, and in truth, those who settled in the lower districts had come to accept this as a usual occurrence.
However, they understood that something was different now.
Before, only a few would have had to suffer for the rest to survive.
Now, it appeared as though Zenon was prepared to flatten the entire lower districts if they didn’t give him what he wanted.
The thought brought despair to many while leaving many more with unbridled rage.
Just then, a haggard-looking old man dressed in rags stepped out and approached Zenon.
"Zenon boy, do you remember me?" the old man asked.
Zenon regarded the old man coldly. "Who are you?"
"Have you forgotten your roots so soon, boy?" The old man teased. "Never mind that, look here, I can vouch for those in the lower districts. There’s no terrorist here, if there were, there’s no way we’d house them, after all, that would be the same as inviting trouble."
"Indeed. Now then, please, if possible, could you spare the lower districts today?... There is no reason for conflict of any kind."
Silence followed as Zenon closed his eyes and a sigh escaped his lips.
Then, he muttered. "I need to arrest three hundred men today. If you can give them up freely, then I’d be more than happy to be on my way."
Before the old man could say anything, a rock flew over and struck Zenon in the face, drawing blood as it then fell to the ground.
The old man, shocked as he was, glanced back in a bid to find who’d thrown the rock, only for one of the task force officers to aim and, without hesitation, shoot.
The gunshot that followed served as the match to the exposed powder.
What followed?... A grand explosion.
Arwen left as early as she could, hoping to get to the telegraph office before the fighting started.
Alas, despite her efforts, it was impossible to do so considering Zenon moved immediately after the Calm of Dawn.
With the entire lower districts up in arms, Arwen guessed it wouldn’t be long before the entire city was engulfed in conflict at which point, she would be left unable to do anything.
Hence, the reason she hurried past the streets of the lower districts, avoiding the fighting as much as she could.
There were no available carriages which lrft her no choice but to summon the skeletal remains of a dead donkey which she then rode all the way to the upper districts.
Alas by the time she arrived, she found, with some chagrin, that the upper districts had completely closed off from the rest of the city.
Task force officers, along with private guards of the nobles, patrolled the streets, ensuring that no one from the lower and middle districts found their way in.
This meant she couldn’t utilize the donkey.
Thankfully, it was hardly a problem to sneak in after she’d dealt with the donkey, considering the upper districts of Sklaviunt were not as impenetrable as its denizens liked to believe.
She found her way onto the roof of a building in the middle districts, which was only a street away from the upper districts, and went on from there, leaping from roof to roof with an agility that was beyond that of an average human.
Having memorized the way to the post office, she soon arrived at the building next to it, after which she dropped down into an alleyway close by and, after ensuring there was no security around, she hurried into the building, quickly finding the man in charge seated at the front desk.
He held an expression that said something along the lines of, ’A customer?’.
"I need to send a message," Arwen remarked with an underlying sense of urgency as she approached his desk.
The man raised a brow. "You don’t seem to be from the upper districts."
Arwen responded by slamming her hand down on the desk and then raising it, revealing exactly twenty skols.
"... But that doesn’t matter." He said as he casually picked up the currency and put it in his register. "Where would you message to be sent?"
Now that was the question.
Due to certain matters, after the meeting with You-Know-Who along with a group discussion on how best to handle things, Constellations had split up.
Not split up as in they had broken up the group.
More in the sense that they had gone off to do their own things, to prepare for what they saw as the inevitable confrontation with the Beast.
Of course, to ensure they weren’t too far away from each other, they had each been assigned to head to a town or city in the northwestern region.
Ulysses, for personal reasons, had left for Scholastica.
Nadia and Victoria had stalked off to a small town called Lamea while Ana and Elena made their way to Thyrillai, one of the five cities ruled by Scholastica.
Anyways, considering she needed help, it was a no-brainer that she needed to call the strongest.
In that regard, Ulysses was the first name that came to mind considering his feat of killing Sayda.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t risk his mental state.
As for Nadia and Victoria, they were... Well, maybe it was best to settle for Ana and Elena.
Having made her decision, Arwen remarked. "Thyrillai."
"Ah, a sister city. That’s good."
"Uhmm, why is it good?"
"Well, it means we can use a telegram to send a message which is much faster than the alternatives."
"I see," Arwen replied, relieved at the thought that help would arrive sooner than she originally anticipated.
"So, what message would you like for me to send?... Remember, if you’ve already written the letter, then I won’t be able to use the telegram. If you haven’t, then each word typed costs 1 skol."
"That’s insane!" Arwen exclaimed in shock.
The man shrugged. "That’s the price. Take it or leave."
Arwen had half the mind to leave but considering the urgency of the matter, she relented.
"Fine then, but I only need you to type out one word."
"You can’t be serious." The man remarked, having not expected that.
Arwen held a triumphant smile on her lips as she stood akimbo.
The man sighed, realizing she was quite serious. "Fine then, what’s the word?"
"Help." Arwen simply said, certain that this would be enough to get Ana and Elena over as soon as possible.
The man looked her over, an apprehensive look quickly settling on his visage as he did so.
There was silence and then, with Arwen placing his fee on the table, the man finally got to work, pulling out the telegram to send the message.