Among the smirking warehouse laborers has been one thinner and rather more elegant figure, a dandy with a well-trimmed mustache and a cigarette between his fingers. He leans against the wall, and every once in a while addresses some comment to one of the burly stevedores beside him, who laughs. It's all such good fun, truly, until that moment that the girl starts shrieking about kidnapping.
Not, of course, that anyone believes her. The young man in question looks too milk-fed and soft to even lift the child for a kidnapping with his weak little arms; he might be an evil bastard with a spirit capable of such wickedness, but he certainly doesn't have the flesh for it.
But just because they don't believe her doesn't mean that they won't take advantage of the commotion. You can't paste a Vint without provocation, but a little girl screaming is pretense enough for a righteous beatdown. And the people of Lowtown - frustrated, frightened, exhausted with the long years of war - want that sort of outlet.
So Byerly gets ahead of it. He bounds ahead, crosses the distance before the laborers can even recognize the opportunity that's unfolding before them, and cries, "You villain! To the Gallows - Riftwatch will deal with you. Gentlemen - " This to the laborers - "Bind his hands!"
(To be fair, there are probably more straightforward means of rescue available to Byerly, that would involve less discomfort to the Vint in question. But Byerly also deserves an outlet. And no noses will be broken this way.)
ii.
Not, of course, that anyone believes her. The young man in question looks too milk-fed and soft to even lift the child for a kidnapping with his weak little arms; he might be an evil bastard with a spirit capable of such wickedness, but he certainly doesn't have the flesh for it.
But just because they don't believe her doesn't mean that they won't take advantage of the commotion. You can't paste a Vint without provocation, but a little girl screaming is pretense enough for a righteous beatdown. And the people of Lowtown - frustrated, frightened, exhausted with the long years of war - want that sort of outlet.
So Byerly gets ahead of it. He bounds ahead, crosses the distance before the laborers can even recognize the opportunity that's unfolding before them, and cries, "You villain! To the Gallows - Riftwatch will deal with you. Gentlemen - " This to the laborers - "Bind his hands!"
(To be fair, there are probably more straightforward means of rescue available to Byerly, that would involve less discomfort to the Vint in question. But Byerly also deserves an outlet. And no noses will be broken this way.)