As Hektor stepped into the barracks, there was a loud commotion coming from somewhere off in the building. It came from the direction of the mess hall, and although it was only just noticeable and Hektor couldn't make any of it out, he knew it had to be 'loud' in order for sound to be traveling to where he currently stood.

The scribe at the desk looked up, "Good Evening, Sergeant." He was young, though seemed to be from an upper class upbringing, or a low-mid one attempting to give off the impression of upper class. He had very thin framed glasses that someone with money would wear because even though extremely delicate, would not care if they broke, as money would simply provide them another pair. His hair, freshly cut into the shape of a upside down bowl on his head, was combed and not a single strand out of place.

Seemingly unaware of Lethe's 'promotion' and current duty as the Watch Captain, the scribe went back to reading a book. The scribe was not a man of the watch, but instead a city clerk. This was not at all an uncommon sight. Due to the necessity to maintain a scribe at all hours of every day for all City Watch buildings, clerks from the city government had rotating temporary duty assignments to these desks for month long stints once or twice a year. Hektor didn't know this particular clerk, but his station was noted by wearing an uniform void of rank, and instead a blue armband that marked him as a clerk on duty.

"Good Evening." Hektor glanced down the hallway towards the sound of commotion for a moment before returning his attention to the clerk before him. "Acting-Captain Lethe reporting as Watch Captain for start of shift, any messages or reports to see before I begin?" He'd see to anything official before taking a walk down to the mess and seeing for himself what the ruckus was about.

"Huh..oh, uh.." The clerk stood up, brushing off the front of his uniform, though there was physically nothing that needed brushing. "No Sir..No Sergeant...Sir...uh" Still standing the boy leaned over the pages of the log book, reading for a few moments. "There was some unrest in the town square from the displaced persons. Not enough food...or supplies...I just heard about a shortage...I'm not sure of what, Sergeant...uh, Sir."

"There are reports from the previous duty Captain on the desk, sir." The clerk turned and motioned the open door of the Watch Captain office. Hektor could see the desk in the office, a thin stack of papers lay there, with the duty armband. The armband is supposed to be able to mark the on-duty Watch Captain, though actual Watch Captain's rarely use it because of how uncommon it be to find an actual Watch Captain in uniform, while not on duty, making the position easily identified.

"Very well. Carry on." Hektor moved toward the office, taking a moment to don the armband. With his current rank being the only one he would be allowed for the position he figured it would behoove him to wear the identifying marker for others. Taking up the thin stack, he would begin to read them while exiting the office and making his way toward the mess hall at an easy gait.

The papers contained duty rosters and assignments, various patrol reports from the previous night's fire, a census of the displaced persons in the town square, a copy of an address of the Mayor to the city's population regarding the fire, and an inventory list of resources and supplies sent to the town square. 

The sound was muffled, until the door to the mess hall was opened. Even right outside, Hektor could not hear what the commotion was while it had remained closed; a testament to the barracks solid construction. The initial buildings of Palua-Palua, the west barracks being one of them, were constructed with warfare in mind. The thick walls and doors designed for withstanding assault and seige.

The door to the mess hall could not simply be flung open. It required effort, an effort which resulted in a not completely unexpected scene. The sound was singing; singing of a group of five guardsmen, likely those who happened to be off duty the following day, due to pulling multiple duty shifts with the recent chaos.

They were singing 'the wishing song'. A well known tune often heard amongst taverns of the working class. The song had no specific lines and required those singing to make up the words. A person would create a two line stanza that rhymed, and the first line always started 'oh, I wish...'

As Lethe entered, the lines being sung were: "oh I wish I were married, to old widow Tuhney. She's as ugly as sin, but has beautiful money." The song was simply an excuse to drink and for men to claim to be clever, as they think up lines on the spot, which had more likely been planned for days prior. 

Hektor glanced at the men singing and laughed a small laugh to himself. He would procure some bread and water and anything else that would keep over the course of a few hours and then return to the Watch Captains Office to begin his shift in earnest. Going over the patrol reports, who it was in the squads and trying to piece anything he could together of his own events, establishing a timeline and looking for any oddities. All this was dancing in the back of his mind, nagging and pulling at strings. To the forefront it was looking to settle in for a long shift.

Nothing stood out to Hektor from the reports. He had written his own before; rising through the ranks gave him exposure to a wide range of billets and duties over the years. 

The fire reports were pretty much the same, though shuffling through the pages, there was no indication of the report he himself made, (either about the fire, or the run-ins that Hektor reported as somewhat suspect)

Futhermore, in the census and inventory of supplies provided to the 'refugees' provide specific and unbalanced numbers. The amount of food and weather wears provided were not only easily insufficient to feed and clothe the reported numbers of dispersed persons, but well below what the city could easily afford to provide.

Hektor's brow furrowed as he read over the reports, one or two could have been a mistake but this was shaping up to be on purpose. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but it looked like intentional sabotage to severely weaken one side of a line. He began writing is own report again and amending in his findings here with the disproportionate numbers.

Every now and then he'd pace back and forth to keep his legs from getting stiff, check the hall to break up routine and sit back with empty hand contemplating his position and what could be done.

Following the eventual dispersion of those from the mess hall, the halls of the West City Barracks were dead. At least those at the 'front' of the building where Hektor and the duty clerk were stationed for their watch that night. The occasional guardsmen entered every so often, though nothing urgent or unexpected. Mostly just offshift personnel returning to check in and retire to their bunk.

It had been over an hour since the last new face, when the door swung open with some force. The scribe, who had been invested in his book at the time, startled and almost fell from his chair. It was a Private, likely onduty, due to the fact that he was in uniform and armed. 

He was out of breathe and sweating as he looked around, ultimately using context clues to conclude that Hektor was the current Watch Captain. As one would expect from one so low ranked and new to the watch, even though he seemed to have urgent news, he began with formalities.

"Sir Private Sector, of patrol 7, reporting at ..." He looked up and away as if trying to recall how many bells he'd heard at the last hour chime, before saying "twelfth hour" with no confidence; although being correct. He continued, "to the Watch Captain, at the west barracks."

Eventually getting to his actual reason for reporting. "There is fighting in the town square. The few patrols on hand are unable to handle. Sergeant Slater believes it to be a full riot and requests reinforcements."

Hektor, seated at the time, recorded everything the Private said. At the end his eyes narrowed in response to the mention of Slater. He made an addendum in the Watch Log, Private Sector is holding a missive for command. He also wrote on a separate piece of parchment. "E, events manipulated to this outcome. Riot spiraled due to lack of supplies and food unprovided by misinformation or misdirection. If I do not return detain SGT Slater. Fetch who you trust, us or otherwise. H."  He folded that parchment and sealed it in an envelope.

He knew what he had to do, and how much the men would be completely unprepared for it. He rose and addressed the Private and the Scribe in a level tone.

"Sound alarms, rouse all members and have them staged in the yard. I want the Sergeants to report to me with readiness. If you don't understand any of these orders find the nearest sober Watch and relay this. Now." He motioned for the Scribe to hop to it before turning on the Private. "You are tasked with delivering this missive to Captain En'Teneal." He handed over the letter. "Sit and rest while I fetch his address from the records. He lives in the southeast of the Official District." Lethe would do his best to find the document and the information he needed, giving time for the alarms to sound and the orders to be followed.

It didn't take long for Sergeant Lethe to find Captain En'Teneal's residential address. If the scribes and clerks of the City Watch were one thing, they were meticulous in their detail and organization of documenting and logging everything. The address was in a regularly updated registry, logged alphabetically and by rank.

The sounds of thuds were heard overhead, as the scribe roused those in the barracks bunks. Most of the sounds were likely boots hitting the floor, with the spattered of likely objects being thrown at the scribe for awakening them from their slumber.

The scribe returned back, having done as instructed, and awaited further orders, as did the private.

Hektor found what he needed, taking a moment to memorize it himself. He turned to Private Sector, giving him the address. "Head there directly, avoid any conflict and any contact with any other member of the Watch until you reach the Captain. This is a priority Private. Be about it." That done, Hektor looked to the Scribe. "Secure the logs and hold down the Barracks, don't do anything too rash." That said, Lethe armed himself and proceeded to the yard to await the muster of men.

The private makes haste and leaves to follow Sergeant Lethe's orders.

Unsure of himself, the scribe replies, "uh,, yes, Sergeant-uh...Sir."

Slowly but surely the guardsmen within the barracks muster in the courtyard, Hektor in front of the formation, just like the previous night when he was put in the billet, following Captain Willard's abrupt disappearance. Only there was a lack of emergency. A civilian clerk waking the guardsmen did not have the same impact as commanding officers and explosions putting the city ablaze.

A good number had only just gotten to sleep, before being awoken again, and many had had their sleep interrupted the night before. Considering the large number and a few faces, Lethe could tell that it wasn't just those on the day's duty roster that were mustering, but the scribe must have awoken the entire barracks to include those whom were only now recovering with time off from extension shift duties from the night before.

The capable, but sluggish and hefty formation took some time, longer than an emergency of riots really required.

They stood before him, grumbles going around, waiting to be told their reason for being there.

Hektor gritted his teeth but calmed himself for the words ahead. Though it wasn't as abrupt as he would have liked, the men were filing in. He understood, if it was him on the other side of this he might be just as sluggish. Once they had filed in He began.

"Men of the Watch, a runner has informed me that riots are ongoing within city center between the displaced residents and your fellow Watchmen. I want squads tight, shields forward and pikes center. Cover each other and stay in formation!" He eyed the men warily. "I understand that we are run ragged but the city will not fall into disorder while we still stand! Sergeants keep the line cohesive, men in the back provide aid to those who are fleeing or too injured to move. I want rioters detained or rendered prone, not slain!" He readied his own gear then turned. "Form up and advance!"

Now, having clarity of the situation at hand, the guardsmen moved to obey Sergeant Lethe's. Unfortunately this did not necessarily result in the immediate movement forward towards the townsquare. While they had dressed and equipped their normal armaments, most did not form up prepared for a potential battle ahead. 

Finally, the formation returned, having gone to the Armory for the acquisition of tower shields and pikes; equipment better for large scale crowd control. As the formation stepped off, the night was eerily quiet, especially for when a riot was supposedly happening a few city blocks away.

As Sergeant Lethe came upon the scene of the townsquare, the chime in the town clock tower rang out, to signify the first hour of the new day. It was a blood bath. Several guardsmen lay dead, scattered about the wreckage of tents and stalls that had initially been erected for the displaced orc population of the night before. But those few guards were among the dozens upon dozens of dead orc men, women, and children.

Movement from the Northside of the townsquare, coming towards Lethe and his formation. It was a gaggle of still living city guardsmen, exhausted but standing, covered in even more blood.

Hektor, walking in the center but just behind the forward shields, took in the sight before him and scowled. He had expected bodies, he even expected a few fights, but the slaughter of children, even orc children, filled him with a frustration and slow burning rage. As the group of Watchmen approached Hektor grunted a few commands to those with him.

"Details! See if there are any still living, and pull the fallen Watch for identification and arrangements. The rest of you maintain formation!"

He returned to look at the approaching men and awaited them to cross the field.

"Nice of you fellas to show up once the heavy lifting is done." One of the approaching guardsmen says to the details that have begun to spread out at Sergeant Lethe's orders, though not directed to any detail or one guard in particular. It was Sergeant Slater. The very same that had sent the runner to the barracks, as well as the same that Hektor had had 'unique' encounters with over the past couple days.

Slater's uniform was stained in blood, but likely most, if not all, belonging to someone other than himself. He let a soaked rag, which he had just used to wipe off his sword, plop to the ground. "Ah, Sergeant. Welcome to the party. Oh should I say 'Sir'," Slater said approaching Hektor, pointing at the Watch Captain armband with the tip of his sword, before sheathing it.

Three or four other guardsmen flanked Slater, on either side, and all looked similarly worn and bloody. None of them were individuals with which Lethe was very familiar. He had seen the faces, and knew a few names at best. There was one other Sergeant, but they were otherwise a mix of Corporals and Privates.  Either tired from the obvious physical exhaustion, none of them seemed horribly thrown by whatever had happened, prior to Sergeant Lethe's arrival, that led to the current scene before them.

"You seem little the worse for wear considering the urgency of your singular runner." Hektor made a motion with his sword arm but didn't shift his gaze from Slater. "Indeed you must have made short work of the numerous orcs here, we heard nary a sound of rioting as we approached. Not even the screams of the children." he let the statement stand on its own for a moment before continuing.

"Report Sergeant, by what means did you and a detachment of Watch come to find themselves here at the displaced settlement under the cover of darkness amidst a riot?" Though it was a question, the way Hektors tone cut through the air made it seem more like a demand or a statement of fact. He waited, sword at the ready.

Responding to the order of the report rather than the comments. "Certainly, Acting Watch Captain-" he began, choosing the statement intentionally, over the more common and just as acceptable, 'sir'. "I cannot speak for all of the guardsmen, standing as well as those we have lost, but myself and two others, in addition to another detail, were stationed to patrol the outside of the town square. Orders not to patrol through it, as the higher ups didn' want tha orcs to perceive us as enforcers." 

The other guards with him either looked on allowing Slater the floor or they nodded in agreement to things said, as he continued. "We had to move in of course though when we heard some yelling and commotion. It was sometime after the eleventh hour. I suspect the other details and city street patrols nearby did the same. Can't say for certain of course, since I wasn't with them at the time. Nor can I report what started the commotion, as it took us some time navigatin these shanties and pushin through the crowd to get to the center." For some reason, there was almost a certain smugness to his words.

"Well when we finally broke through, we saw a pile of orcs just goin atit. Fighting and brawling, things being thrown, bystanders getting pushed and knocked down. An the more it continued, the more it grew as more n more of the greenies got involved. As we moved in to break it up, the attacks turned on the guards as well. Not just us, but other details that had shown up. And not just shoving and flyin fists either; clubs, knives, tools. Hell, I saw one swing a sickle across Private Parkins face and near pluck out his eye." Slater turned towards a Private among his entourage. The private's face was half covered in bits of leather, being firmly held in position by strips of bloody cloth.

"We were completely overwhelmed, so I sent a runner to the barracks to scramble forces to contain the situation. We dod what we could to defend ourwelves. It was kill or be killed and we were outnumbered twenty to one. Eventually it seemed to burn itself out, like a forest fire thats run out of woods to feed on. There's a few orcs in custody, but most of the survivors, whether involved in the riot or not fled the townsquare, and id guess the city itself. Not much we could do to chase any down." While although not necessarily needed, at the end, Slater added on. "But if I'd known it would take so long for reinforcements to arrive, I would have had half a mind to tell the men to run for their lives...Atleast then not so many would have lost them. Of course, I'd be happy to report to the barracks to write up the report, if that's the priority, Sir."

(Insight to Slater's Story: 13)

Hektor nodded as Slater told his tale but said nothing until he was finished. "Likely, that is what will be required Sergeant." He cast his gaze over the others in Slaters party before turning to address the formation. "Hold the square, maintain assistance to survivors and detail the dead." Hektor turned back to Slater. "Let's have a chat with these survivors that eluded the sword." He motioned for Slater to lead they way and selected two of the men from the barracks to flank with a sharp gesture.