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"I guess. I still can't hear them. Let me summarize the plan to Cricket and we can go out - I'll charge a knockout on the way in case, although that'll only do one person if someone attacks. But we can duck into an adjacent building if we have to." Iobel gets up and offers Edarial her hand.

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He stands, and takes it. "That we can." He waits until Cricket has been briefed. "Ready to go?"

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Iobel tells Cricket to stay close to the fountain with at least a paw in until she comes to get him and that she will be back as soon as she can to get him out and, yes, feed him. She picks him up and kisses his forehead and puts him down again and then she leads Edarial out, skirting close to the wall of the next building over and the edge of the blockade.

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Similarly, Berathyme curls up, the end of her tail in the fountain - she is perfectly content to wait. She knows Edarial will be back.

Edarial follows, silently and looking over the blockade with a look of dismay.
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"LEAVE THEM LIE, LEAVE THEM LIE," is the chant irregularly uttered by the line of would-be voters holding hands and standing between the collapsed building and some tired and irritated rescue workers.

"Are we going to do this all night?" asks one of the rescue workers. "I don't give a damn about your political squabbles, there's - your majesties!"

The activists are startled and turn to look right at Edarial and Iobel, holding hands and standing through a shallow area of rubble.
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"What," says Edarial, a touch of actual anger in his voice, "do you idiots think you're doing?"
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"DEMOCRACY N-" begins someone hysterically, only to be shushed by adjacent persons.

"Your majesty," says the same rescue worker, "they turned over the binder who did the collapsing nice and tidy and she's confessed, too, but then said they didn't want you dug out 'till they had a chance to talk to Prince Zevros about their political thing, wouldn't let us by, technically can't arrest them for standing there. We didn't think you were alive, majesties."
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There is a moment of silence from Edarial, before he looks at the democracy activists.

"You realize," he says in a dangerous tone, "that there were other people that were under that building, too? People that had nothing to do with politics, or the monarchy, or anything. All they were doing was their job. And now they are all dead. If you'd have let the rescue workers do their fucking job, they might not be. They could have been alive an hour ago, they could have been alive two hours ago, and then a spellbinder could have fixed them and they would not be dead."
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"Those who guard the tyrants prop up the tyranny!" exclaims someone shrilly.

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"Okay, then you can come with me to tell their families, and explain to them that their loved ones are dead. Because you had an agenda. Tell me, what are you going to say, how are you going to voice your argument there, hmm?"

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"Did you explain to the families of the people who died through your mother's misrule when you decided to take the THRONE after her instead of replacing it with a functional system?" hollers someone in the back who is hiding behind someone else.

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"I am not my mother! If you had listened to literally any of my arguments against why I am staying on the throne for the moment rather than handing it off to a fledgling government that has no guarantee to be any better just because it's different, you would know that. In fact, I didn't even rule out that it was possible at some time in the future! I said that Marlatia's too delicate after my mother's aforementioned misrule to dramatically change like that at this point in time!"

He laughs, a little, but it's not a nice laugh. "Fuck, I even agreed to the damn constitution! It's a good idea! I was going to make it happen when I got home! But! I couldn't get home to do it because there was a motherfucking building on me!"
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"Your majesty, are you sure the other people are dead?" cuts in the rescue worker before any of the protestors can reply.

"Yes," says Iobel. "I'm under a spell that would let me see them through the rubble if they were alive, and I don't."

The rescue worker slumps.
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Edarial addresses the rescue worker, voice softening, "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, thank you for mounting a rescue effort, all of you."

And then he looks back at the protestors and his face is ice. Silent. Judging.
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Some of them start slinking away.

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"You are," he growls to them, "exceedingly lucky that I am not going to arrest you. I could, you would go on trial for negligence and impeding a rescue operation. If you ever put your cause before human lives again, I will not hesitate to do it. Do you understand me?"

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The rest of them scatter.

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And Iobel squeezes his hand.

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Edarial returns the hand squeeze. He sighs. "Fools."

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"Yes. Let's hope that no one's actually gotten to Zevros with their demands yet."

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"Yes, let's. He'd be livid."

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"And then we wouldn't have a chance to talk to our alts about his likely demands, first. If he knows. Let's go catch a boat right now." She motions to the rescue worker and speaks up a bit. "Excuse me, sir, our familiars are in there and for the next fifteen minutes or so we'll go through walls if we touch them, as which category all of this junk most likely qualifies. They have the fountain and will be all right if there's some incidental reshuffling of the stuff, but if you could help us unbury them we'd be much obliged."

"Of course, your majesty," replies the rescue worker, and he directs his people in, follows Iobel's instructions about where to start to get at the cat and the snake, and has a path made for two reasonably agile and little animals before the wall-walk has worn off.
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Berathyme slithers out, nodding to the rescue worker approvingly.

"Thank you very much," says Edarial, sincerely to the rescue worker. "Do you want - money or a reward of some kind?"

He sounds so tired, now.
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"I'm in the pay of the city, your majesty, but if you'd be so inclined the firehouse could use a bit of Crown funding," says the one who does the talking while his co-workers get to work on the rest of the rubble to dig out the guards' bodies.

Iobel catches Cricket when he jumps into her arms. She starts murmuring in his ear to explain what's happened.
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"I'll get them the extra funding," he agrees, nodding. "Thank you."

Berathyme surveys the results, but does not ask to know what happened. Time for that later, when she is not surrounded by people that don't know she speaks all languages ever.
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