Prologue to Gathering Lead

A magical child is discovered by a priest who attempts to kill him in front of his mother the queen. The queen attacks the priests and asks the childs nursemaid to find a safe place for the prince.

Prologue 

Seeing an infant with burning azure eyes was a first for everyone on terrace but Father Camden. The rest were understandably taken by surprise. The Father however knew the proper progression of events following the discovery of the burning gaze. After the display of beautiful evil or pulchra malum, the child must be presented to a Father of the Cloth, the Father in his holy duty would then take his sacrificial knife to the child's throat, the knife and body would then be delivered to his highness in the holy city who would then cremate both blade and body. Glowing eyes are one of the signs of the magi, and the magi needed to be exterminated. He stepped toward the royal child drawing the ceremonial dagger from within the folds of his dark tutoring habit. He knelt down beside the child and stared into the face of pure joy which only a toddler can express. Isn't it just the way of the lords of lies to make such an evil so beautiful? Father Camden spit to the ground in disgust and lifted his dagger, to the child's neck drawing a thin line of blood from the smiling infant. A scream pierced the air behind him. Father Camden looked over his shoulder to assess the commotion and was simultaneously hit by a somewhat worrisome thought and a boot, although the latter effectively pushed the former to the back of his head. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of the child as Father Camden sank to the floor fully surrendered to a level of unconsciousness that would have cost your average man a handsome number of drinks and hours to achieve. 

Queen Mariella reached down and divested the would be assassin of his weapon slipping it scout style into the belt round the back of her waist. The queen then lifted her son and stared into the burning blue eyes of a mage. 

“Hello my son” Mariella whispered to her world. “My angelino.” William giggled and his mother's face split into a wide grin for a moment before slipping into a grimace of despondency.

“Annette.” She said softly to her son's nursemaid. 

The young woman approached the pair warily, with eyes more for the glowing gaze of the child than of her queen. She stood by the queen's side while at the same time giving the child and his haunting blue eyes a wide berth. 

“Annette.” repeated the queen. “You need to take him away and hide him”

The nursemaid recoiled from the announcement as if a dog had lunged for her throat.

“No. . . I mean . . . no I can’t.” 

“The church will send the Sicarius after him if they discover our secret.” whispered the queen. “Do you understand?”

“I . . .um. . .”

The queen fixed her servant and friend with a fiery gaze of her own although lacking the magic to actually ignite.

“That means the Church. . .” she seethed “In all its holy wisdom, will send the Order of Sicarius, the mage hunters; to find my son. To kill my son. They will kill William, and they will burn his body.” An army of hot tears began a relentless yet silent march down the queen's face. 

“Do you have any idea what that means to me? What it means to my people? To let fire consume the dead? Not even our vilest criminals are sent to the pyre. They would rob me of a son and my son of a heaven” 

Mariella closed the distance between her and the woman who had cared for her and her son for two long years.

“Tesorina mia”  whispered the queen reaching up to caress her friends face. 

“You are the only person in the world I could or would trust with my son. You have been a second mother to him Annette. I know you love him as I do.”

Annette sighed and flashed a smile of near acquiescence. She reached out and touched the young prince’s cheek tentatively. 

“Milady. . . I would do whatever you ask of me but I’m not the person for this. I would retreat alongside you and faithfully serve but I cannot be his mother.” 

“Annette, you have been his mother for the past few years nearly as much as I, and I would flee with him if I could but they can find me.”

The young nursemaid gave the queen an uncomprehending stare.

“The church commissioned a dowsing compass from the alchemists for me.” Explained the Queen. “They don’t trust the Marsiai.” 

“Even If I could evade the church I would have no idea how to keep him safe. I know it’s an impossible thing for me to ask. . . But you’re the only one I trust to keep him safe.”  

Annette drew in a slow deep breath and nodded. 

The queen sank to her knees as she embraced her child for what she knew would be the last time. 

“Thank you. ”

*****

Soon to be the most hunted woman in the world; Annette surveyed her surroundings and swore. 

“F**k!” she said loudly. 

She was clad in the most beleaguered and tired clothes the queen had owned and thus her attire was only dramatically better than that of the congregation thronging around her instead of drastically. She wore a rich burgundy cloak with a travelers purse which cinched over the hip on the left side and hung low on the right to keep money easily accessible. A Chalussi emballage of bright blue was slung round her shoulders swaddling the prince in close to her chest. Though she had been carrying the young child like this for the better part of two years. She now felt naked and awkward. Annette, no stranger to hardship or strife had been shocked into a state of near emotional petrification when William had expressed his pulchra malum. The child she had spent years swaddling and crooning over had blinked and become a monster in a brilliant flash of blue. The innocent mannerisms of the young prince which Annette had found so endearing only hours before now shook her to her core. The soft burble of a snore he let out sent goosebumps shooting down her spine. Once when he roused and clutched at her breast she almost screamed thinking that the child would somehow be able to reach through her and still her beating heart. She could not quell the feeling that this child was an abomination, a usurper of the power of the Gods. Everything she knew about the magi screamed danger and sacrilege but how could a child go from innocent to evil in the blink of an eye? Was the power so insidious? The Church certainly seemed to think so. Annette had never been a pious follower of of the faith but even atheists knew that the magi had sent a plague to Morland by way of  Marsiai 300 years ago. 

She slowly forced herself to the conclusion that for the time being there was nothing that could be done but to keep the course. There was someone who she could turn to for help but he had been mercifully out of her life for the better part of three years but he was not a man you came to in a panic. So as she walked she slowly stilled her emotions bit by bit, till she regained the hardwon confidence she had taken away from the streets of Dorchester all those years ago.

 She and the prince had crossed the Kingsbridge over the Gravesend river to the Merchants quarter; a thriving bazaar filled with goods and merchants from all walks of life. The Merchants Quarter was the gate through which the masses of Moreland were funneled. The gaudy labyrinth was in ingeniously devised siege weapon which waged war on the citizens of morland by assaulting them with colors, scents, and sounds untill it would breach their meager defences and they decided to buy one useless item or another. Jugglers and acrobats in brightly colored livery blew fire at each other in the hopes of winning coin, or at the very least ridding themselves of a bit of vexing competition. The merchants and venders shouted loudly in hopes of wooing virginal shoppers into seedy pockets of the marketplace known as bordello districts because of their proclivity for bending clients over in their back rooms.

As she surveyed the colorful crowd a young gamin snuck up beside her in an attempt to slit the straps securing her purse. Annette raised her left hand to protect the child strapped round her chest and lashed out with her right snatching the child's chivomengro or chiv as they had come to be known from the startled young boys hand.  

“Oy” he shouted as Annette slipped her hand behind him securing his collar tightly and preventing his escape. 

Annette leaned in closely as the little urchin attempted to kick his way free. 

“If you kick me again I’ll slip this chiv so far through the back of your neck your tongue will fall out of your mouth.”

The young boy froze as his eyes attempted and failed to save themselves by beating a hasty retreat out the front of his face. 

“Whose man are you little one?” Annette asked 

“I run with the Flint Fires, and I ain't little” he said petulantly. 

“You are to me” she smiled. Then she gestured to the prince resting against her chest in the emballage “but to him you’re a giant.” She winked at the tiny gangster. “All in the perspective, what do they call you” 

“Littlefoot” he replied proudly. “On account of”

“On account of how you kick?” interrupted Annette.

Littlefoot smiled and nodded. 

“Well littlefoot, I use to run with the West Side Ladro, and I need to know where the Hammer is.”

A traveling tavern and casino owned by the Charbonneau family; The Fallen Hammer is an interesting contrast of the best and worst luck possible for a bar to have. The name the Fallen Hammer had been passed down for several generations from the first owner of the bar Jacques Charbonneau. When Jacques owned the bar it burned down thrice, flooded, was taken hostage by a group of Castambi pirates and was lost and retaken by Jacques in a single came of  Dasongshu, a game of chance from the far eastern country of Shangping, played with dice, cards and a roulette like device which would determine the new rules of each game. When Jacques died the Tavern was passed to his son Pierre. Pierre was a member of the Armée Dorée a Chalussi Street gang ran by a small group of the city watch. When Pierre fell out of favor with the guard they attempted to burn down the Fallen Hammer for a fourth time, and while they did succeed the leaders of the gang died when a support beam broke and trapped the group in the fire. Pierre was forced to find a new location for the bar but in doing so he managed to seize the reins of the leaderless gang, making the Fallen Hammer the unofficial headquarters of the Armée Dorée. Throughout the years, the location of the bar changed more and more frequently as the Charbonneau name grew in infamy but the casinos name stuck. The current owner of the tavern, Martin Charbonneau or Le Marteau was also the city Righello, a crime lord which unified the city gangs into a cohesive force to be reckoned with.

As Annette took in the large building littlefoot had steered her towards she had another attack of apprehension. Le Marteau ruled the gangs of his city with an iron fist, and he did not view intrusions on his time or his purse lightly. Yet Annette was going to stride into the Hammer for the first time in three years and demand both. She swore again.

“Vaffanculo” She said softly using one of the queen's favorite Marsiai expletives.Annette stepped into the Fallen Hammer.