Till the Trumpets Blow

If they haven't seen you yet, stay low. These lands are surveyed once, then once over, then a final time to appease the king. I'd tell you what the monarch would do to you but...maybe you're not ready to hear that, not yet at least.

Oh? You don't know about the glorious king?

These lands belong to him and his men, no one else. He took over long ago. This used to be a peaceful city, you know? But that just made it all the easier to take over using his tool.

The trumpets, oh God the trumpets. Don't let them blow.

He doesn't need swords and shields for his army. Folk will drop dead before they realize anything was awry. All due to those damn trumpets.

That's why it's important you stay in that cellar and not come up, can't let them find you. You still have a responsibility anyways. There are others out there but you won't reach them now, wait for night! Maybe then you'll have a chance at reaching their hospitality.

Oh Lord, what has happened to this place? The other royals keep sending their men to reclaim this ruined kingdom. All in vain. No one will survive the king's orchestra.

The stone walls have fallen. All the windows have shattered, and the homes have been raided.

The king waits on his throne of glass. A single sense of danger and he'll strike his chair with a shard of metal, suffocating the eardrums of the trumpeters. Those trumpets, those damn trumpets.

Night once more. Safety in silence as they say...as I say. Just listen, stay low and crawl if you can. Those Trumpets should be dormant now, waiting for a command to arise. The hideout is the last house down the path. Look behind and head into the small crevice.

You'll be safe. I swear on it.

You're almost there, just another turn, just another turn and you'll be there, I promise.

There it is, that hatch there! Lucky you, the people are actually still there. You'll be safe now that you found all those deserters, those blasted traitors.

But you'll be safe, I promise.

I promise...oh what the hell, this town's gone rotten anyways, and I'm rotten too.

Sorry fella, king's orders for the conductor to protect these fortified lands, and I'm the conductor. This kingdom is lost, lost to sound, drowned out with music. And if we want to keep the town playing, we'll need to remove anything off-key.

So blow trumpets blow, make them fall with your elegance, carry their souls from their shackled corpses.

Make them bow to the King of Glass.