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Mimic Chapter 30 - Festival of Death
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 20:56:09 +0000 UTCThe Goddess Festival, as it turned out, truly was the massive event Velasco had made it out to be. From where he stood, a balcony on the Obelisk that overlooked a swathe of the city, he could see throngs of people filling the streets. Innumerable vendor stalls could be seen from his position, hawking food and floral necklaces to the partygoers, who whooped, and danced, and drank in the streets.
Come the morning all of Sentinel would look filthy, the cobbles caked in petals and vomit. For now, it looked like a fun time for all present.
Even in Lowtown, only partially visible from where he stood, he could see people partying in the streets and letting off fireworks that flashed in the low light of the afternoon.
And yet, for as happy as the people below seemed to be, Coin could not help but sense the tension in the air. On every rooftop he could see, soldiers prowled with a relentless intensity. They scoured the streets intently, eyes trained for even the faintest whiff of trouble.
Off to the central streets, where the parade was taking place, there loomed a float depicting a massive wooden effigy of the goddess. Her painted face was serene, hair framing the sides of her face lined with a myriad of flowers.
“First time seeing a Goddess Festival in our fair city?”
“Hm?” Coin turned to Velasco, who had ventured to join him by the balcony. The room beyond was filled with an assortment of chancellors, wealthy merchants and aristocrats, people personally invited at Velasco’s behest. A few high-ranking wizards were also in attendance. Merrick Vaust, the gorilla, naturally stood out he most. It was a private party, and Coin would admit to enjoying the food and drink. “Yeah. First time.”
“I will admit to looking forward to this time of year.” The old man peered over the bronze railing, watching the parties below with a hawkish gaze. “It’s good, I find, to give the citizens something to distract themselves with.” He said ‘citizen’ as if it were a dirty word. “Parties, festivals, parades... give the layman enough of those, and he will ultimately be content.”
“I suppose,” Coin said, not quite catching the old man’s meaning.
Velasco nodded, slowly swilling the half-empty glass of port in his hand. “I understand you’ve been meeting with LeBon again?” He phrased it as a question, but Coin knew the truth of it.
“Still keeping an eye on him?”
“For his own good, of course. He’s a brilliant man, well intentioned, but alas not everyone is so.. pure hearted. His inventions have made our insurgents very dangerous. You know they have a new form of firearm, much more dangerous than a hand cannon. A ‘rifle’ is the term my Manticores have been using to describe it.”
A small chill ran down Coin’s spine. He remembered that night vividly, when he tracked Elijah’s killer into the bowels of the undercity. He had a chance to stop the prototype rifle from leaving the city, and had chosen not to. And now others were paying the price for that.
“The thing about men like LeBon is that they so rarely see things from all perspectives. The old boy concocted the original hand cannon for pest control, and never once considered others would be inclined to use his device to harm another person.” He tutted and shook his head “Progress. A dangerous thing that must be... carefully guided.”
“Yeah. Guess it can cause a lot of trouble if it happens too fast.” He chose, for the time being, not to mention his aspiration to completely upend the nature of trade and transportation across the entire kingdom.
“Though you are a fan of change, are you not?” Velasco glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “I am given to understand that you have hired many kobolds to your service.”
Fireworks rose up from the other districts of the city, exploding into spirals of blue and white sparks. By now they had set a rhythm in their eruptions, coming every eight minutes or so.
“There’s no law against it,” said Coin.
“Indeed not. There are those who would want kobolds banned from the city entirely. Those people don’t seem to understand that our industry would collapse overnight if I did.” Velasco shrugged. “They are good workers, I shall admit. I feel no particular dislike toward the kobolds, as a species. And there is a pragmatism, with how little they expect to be paid.”
“Well... with how good they are, perhaps they could be given more... rights within the city?” Coin suggested. The question sprang forth before he could stop and ask himself what the hell he was even thinking.
“Oh?” Velasco chuckled. “I heard you were a touch... close to your female kobold companion. I did not realise that intimacy would make a radical of you.”
“It’s not...” Coin trailed off, pressing his palms to the railing. More fireworks flashed across the darkening sky. “It’s not just that. I’ve spent a lot of time around kobolds. They’re good people. I don’t think they deserve to be treated the way they do. And... I don’t see why they are.”
“You’ll find, Master Coin, that much of society is the way it is out of a bullheaded sense of tradition. People do something stupid because their stupid grandfathers did it, and their stupid grandfathers did it because they were idiotic cave people from a far dimmer age.” The more he spoke, the more the disdain lined his wrinkled face. The man cared a good deal for Arcadia. Its people, however, he thought little of. “Ancient humans warred with ancient kobolds and ground them into the dirt. They became an easy target for hate and mistrust because they never had a chance to fight back. A scapegoat for many woes.”
“So... you agree that it’s wrong for them to be treated like that?”
“Being blunt, Master Coin I have rarely felt much incentive to discriminate along lines of species. I have known stupid elves, brawny gnomes, and humans who manage whoo embody every possible virtue and deficiency.” He took a lazy sip of his wine, his expression distant and thoughtful. “I don’t doubt kobolds could grow to be equals to us in that regard. But I doubt the people would hasten to welcome them. Not without... the right social engineering,” he explained.
Coin stared at the old man, furrowing his brow. “And could you... do that?”
“Influence public opinion?” Velasco smiled cryptically. “I could indeed. The right words, spoken in the right places, by agents of mine who seamlessly blend with the rabble of society? You would be amazed at how easily the public can be swayed. But... should I? It would be a massive upheavel, and we’d have to greatly expand on living quarters in the city. And there would be the violent holdhouts, reluctant to expect change.”
“Think of the tax money,” Coin said.
Velasco opened his mouth jut as more fireworks whistled into the air. This time the explosions were far louder, more violent, and it wasn’t until the cheers of the people below turned to screams that they realised something was wrong.
“What in damnation?” the old man muttered, peering over the balcony. His eyes widened, and Coin looked just as aghast, as great fireballs suddenly erupted from the streets below. Velasco grit his teeth. “We combed every block, even the ruins under the streets, so how-”
Coin grimaced and strained his vision for a better look, magnifying it beyond human limits. That was when he saw it. Cloaked and hooded figures who could easily pass as gnomes to the uncaring eye. And when the time came, those figures would throw their cloaks aside to reveal the truth:
They were goblins.
Goblins who, through one way or another, had snuck into Sentinel through the chaos of the Goddess Festival, their robes concealing their identities and the sticks of dynamite they wore beneath.
They, to Coin’s shock and disbelief, were blowing themselves up in the middle of the street, taking out anyone nearby.
And it was as this realisation hit him that he hear screams coming from the ballroom behind him.
