Before the great houses had learned to call themselves allies, Grandmother Bright heard the ominous sound:
Three turns.
A pause.
Three turns.
She rose before dawn and went to City Hall.
There she found Lord Wayne already awake, standing over a map of Gotham. Red markers surrounded the South Quarter. Blue marked the markets. Black marked the tunnels.
“You heard it,” Bright said.
Wayne did not turn.
“I heard something.”
“No,” she replied. “You heard war approaching.”
Before Wayne could answer, the doors opened.
Lord Scurlock entered with twelve guards.
Behind him came Wang, surrounded by Triad captains.
Lionel arrived last.
For the first time, every faction had brought armed men into the council chamber.
Scurlock placed a ledger upon the table.
“Three hundred workers have disappeared.”
Wang’s eyes narrowed. “And you accuse me?”
“I accuse everyone.”
Lionel laughed bitterly. “At last, something honest.”
Wayne struck the table.
“Enough.”
But no one listened.
Wang accused Scurlock of preparing a coup. Scurlock accused Wang of arming the workers. Lionel declared that Wayne had secretly ordered soldiers into the South Quarter.
Then a messenger burst through the doors.
“Milord!”
Everyone turned.
“The South Quarter is burning.”
Silence followed.
Wayne reached for his sword.
Wang’s hand went to his dagger.
Lionel’s guards raised their weapons.
Scurlock stepped backward.
And for one terrible moment, Gotham stood upon the edge of civil war.
Then the ground beneath City Hall moved.
Stone cracked.
The chandeliers swung wildly.
From below came three enormous turns of gears.
Everyone froze.
Three.
A pause.
Three.
Grandmother Bright closed her eyes.
“The Dragonheart has awakened.”
Beneath them, something vast began climbing toward the surface.
And the council, divided against itself, suddenly understood the cruelest truth:
They had spent so long preparing to fight one another that none of them had prepared to fight what was coming.
ping:
Dreamquest 