Daniel's Fanfic

Introduction:

Based on the book series “The Codex Saga” by Jim Butcher.
The books are set in a world where spirits of the earth and its elements, called furies, can be used by man in a society based on the Ancient Roman Empire.

In most adventure stories there is a lot of damage to the surrounding area and chaos in general. A thought occurred to me "What is it like for those bystanders in these situations?"

In the fourth book in the series the main character breaks someone out of prison and escapes to the docks causing havoc in the processes.





Paperwork by fury light is always a pleasant task in the wee hours of the morning. Papers were stacked high on the desk in the upstairs room of a book shop. Most of the papers showed numbers with words above and below to the affects of "Interest accured” and “kindly pay". The owner let out a sigh and sat back on his chair

"Opening a book store in Alera-Imperia was a great idea. Demand for the written word among the educated and noble classes will be high."

One year, and a couple of overdue loans from ruthless patrons had taught him otherwise.



Still better than staying in the country and using his fury craft to work the land. He glanced up at his fire fury resting inside a glass jar on the desk. Shaped as an animal, as most country furies were. He wondered why his, rooted deeply in fire and fear, was shaped as a small frog.

"Any ideas?" he asked the fury. In reply the frog looked back with impassive eyes and expanded its chest in the gesture mimicking the habits of the shape it possessed.



A blue flash from the nearby window was followed by a suddenly darkening of the night. The screech from metal wheels on stone roads was accompanied by the shrill neigh of overworked horses and the cries of men. A sudden crash from the front of his shop was soon to follow. The owner shot up knocking over his chair and scattering paper across the already messy room.



“Cursed sailors!! If one of those drunken slives has broken my door again, I will burn him and his boat to the bottom of the ocean!!”

Holding his hands out for his fury to follow, the proprietor headed for the stairs and down to the empty shop below. The lights from the streetlamps were out, and the broken heap of rubble from a wall lined with poor quality literature was spread over half the shop. A groan and an odd metallic creak came from the prone form lying in the center of the mess. Yelling voices and the heavy sounds of hurried footsteps echoed up and down the street.



Rage filled the owner at the newest injustice dealt to him, combined with his soon to be destitute status an outlet was sought and found in the semi-conscious man in front of him.

Gritting his teeth and sucking in a deep breath the owner stepped up to grab the cause of his most recent problem. Summoning his fury from the stone floors beneath him he threw the man out on to the street. Following the man out of his newly enlarged door he stood in the frame. Raising his hand and the fiery spirit in it above his head he bid the fury to flare into a golden white brilliance and grow in size. He set the fury upon the closest figure in front of him.



As his fury crafting tutor had told him time and again, the ability of a fire fury to bring fear and panic into the hearts and minds of weaker men was paramount in fully mastering his talents. And as he had told his master in his youth time and again, a flaming frog six feet tall and leaping towards someone will also cause the desired effect. In his youth he had no talent for the finer arts of crafting for either his earth or fire furie, something he never regretted that until now.



As his fury came down on the closet man it was suddenly blown apart by a gust of wind strong enough to suck the air from the owner’s lungs at several paces away. A slow dread inducing realization sunk into the owner as he watched the last sparks of his fury dissipate into the darkness. Such crafting could only be done by the higher castes of society or military.


Lights had blossomed in the hands of some of the armored men on the street. Clearly lit the owner could see these men were not drunken sailors.

The men wore the distinctive uniform of the Grey Guard from the grey tower, the only prison in the realm, that could keep even the strongest citizens captive. These men were slowly getting back into file, hurried by centurions with the batons of their station being put to use on any person seen lagging. One of these officers walked up to the owner and addressed him in a voice clearly used in drills or pointing out any flaws in parentage in a new recruit.

“Who are you to interrupt the actions of officers on duty?!”

With a deep breath and as much false bravado as he could muster in his half suffocated state he replied,“Who are you to destroy the property and work place of a citizen of this realm?! I and every other person on this street would like to know what gives the crown and senate reason to disregard rights of the people!!”

"The same rights that allow me to arrest and put to trial any persons seen to be interrupting the protectors of this realm in their duty to this land and its people." The centurion turned his head to the least dazed of his two troops. "Get this man in chains and back to the tower! The rest of you get down to the docks and search any boat in port. If that prisoner escaped we will all be dragged before the senate for trial. Now go!"

As the owner was manhandled back to the tower where he would no doubt be spending a large portion of the immediate future, he couldn't help but wonder what events and persons had caused this current misfortune in his life.