Free Dark Age by Felix O. Hartmann

Watchers. We could use it to our advantage,” Terric proposed.
    “Do you hear yourself talk? Your men will not use these weapons, nor even touch them. By the time they know how to handle them, you will be out of bullets,” the Inquisitor said. His tone became somewhat aggravated yet helpless, “Train your men to be stronger, tell the blacksmith to add some extra padding, and improve the outer wall. That is all.”
    “You leave me no other choice than my final proposal,” Terric said.
    The Inquisitor looked up at him waiting for something reasonable.
    “Open the gates,” he said with a stern face.
    “I have heard enough of you. Get back to your post and do not bother me again until you can come up with something rational,” the Inquisitor said.
    There was a daunting silence at the table. Everyone avoided the glance of the Inquisitor, hoping to come up with brighter news to adjourn the meeting with. The man with the grey braided hair rose and gave a formal farewell. The other eleven council members quickly joined him and left.
    Quietly he sat there by himself and spun his ring on the table. A rather strange rhythm began to set. Every few moments I would hear the light gold clash against the dark wooden table.
    Quickly I inched my way towards the staircase to get closer to him, while he was lost somewhere in his thoughts. For too long he hid the truth from us. What weapons? What Gate Watchers? What raids? It had to end. He was the sole reason my life had collapsed into such chaos.
    My hand clutched the stiletto at my waist and slowly drew it from the belt. The last pillar of the staircase gave me cover, as the ring stopped spinning. My heart beat faster and faster, yet I had to keep my breath under control. Slowly I stepped away from the pillar and approached him from behind. Just a few feet separated the blade from his heart. It was so graspable, so real. With every step I could taste victory and freedom as memories of old pains, and dreams of futures lost, flashed before my eyes.
    Images of everybody I knew, whose lives had been ruined by the Inquisitor, appeared before me. Elias was still out there. Bennet and Colin were dead. Mother and Father had to watch it all. Peter was about to be sent off too. Robert and Seth barely hung on from day to day to survive. Eric lost his wife, and Katrina was about to lose me.
    Cecilia… “I have been alone my whole life. All I ask for is a friend.” I froze, reflecting on our earlier conversation. The tip of the dagger almost touched the Inquisitor’s neck. He had caused her so much trouble, yet was her only family. As much as I wanted to push that dagger through his back into his black heart, I could not have ripped him away from her. My hand trembled, pushed forward by my mind but held back by my heart.

Chapter 8
    I f elt dead inside, but he was still alive. Come sun rise, I would leave this city and maybe never return. Much had happened since I had the chance to kill him.
    I had fled the mansion, without him ever knowing that his life lay at my mercy that night. I never told Cecilia. In fact I never told anyone but Peter. He was upset, hating me for a day or two, but finally forgave me. “You are no murderer Adam,” he had said. “But now we both have to learn to become one.”
    His time came by very quickly. Four months had passed and he was absorbed into the outside world as if he had never existed. I stood with his family at the gate that day, bidding him goodbye until we would meet again. Already back then, I saw myself in his shoes, approaching the gigantic gate. Since that day it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of his father. The old barber barely spoke to his customers anymore.
    The last time I saw Cecilia was mere two weeks later. We sat in her study, learning about the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci. His flying machines amazed me more than anything I could imagine; they gave men the power of an eagle. As we read about them, the bells rang. I dismissed