Vick flinched at an echoing clatter from behind the gates, then a slit of light showed between the two doors and, with a creaking of hinges in need of oil, they swung slowly open.

A soldier leaned from the parapet, grinning madly and waving his hat. “We’re with ’em!” he bellowed. “The Great Change!”

Judge tossed her head, and dragged her horse from the road, and with an impatient flick of her arm beckoned the People’s Army forwards.

“Fuck the king!” screeched that lone soldier, to a wave of laughter from the oncoming Breakers, and he took his life in his hands by shinning up the wet flagpole to tear down the standard above the gatehouse.

The High King’s banner, which had flown over the walls of Adua for centuries. The golden sun of the Union, given to Harod the Great as his emblem by Bayaz himself. The flag folk had knelt to, prayed to, sworn their loyalty to… came fluttering down to lie in the puddle-pocked road before the gate.

“The world can change, Sister Victarine.” Pike raised one hairless brow at Vick. “Just watch.” And he clicked his tongue and rode on towards the open gates.

So it was with almost over-heavy symbolism that the People’s Army marched into Adua, trampling the flag of the past into the mud.

The Little People

“They’re here!” Jakib was so choked with excitement his voice cracked and went all warbly. “The Breakers are bloody here!” All the days and weeks and months waiting and now he stared wildly around their little parlour with his hands opening and closing, hardly knowing what to do first.

Petree didn’t look excited. She looked worried. Sour, even. The lads had warned him he was marrying a sour woman, but he hadn’t seen it then. He’d always been a hoper. “You’re a hoper,” they’d said. Now every day she seemed more sour. But this was hardly the time to be fretting about his marriage. “They’re bloody here!”

When he grabbed his coat he sent pamphlets scattering off the table. Wasn’t as if he’d read them. Wasn’t as if he could read, really. But having ’em felt like a fine step towards freedom. And who needed pamphlets, when the Breakers were come in person?

He went to fetch his grandfather’s sword from the hook above the fire. Hissed a curse that Petree had made him hang it out of reach. Had to go up on tiptoes to get the damn thing down and near dropped it on his head.

He felt bad when he saw her face. Maybe she wasn’t sour so much as scared. That’s what the bastards wanted, the Inquisition and the Closed Council. Everyone scared. He caught her by the shoulder. Tried to shake some of his hope into her. “Price o’ bread’ll go down now,” he said, “you’ll see. Bread for everyone!”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She put her fingertips on the battered scabbard. “Don’t take the sword. Having it might make you try to use it. You don’t know how.”