Rebellion in Grryslin

And thus the elixir of hunger was perfected; a vibrant blue colour, swirling and bubbling in the phial. Kredins added the elixir into a glass boiling tube, increased the temperature to over 1000 kelvin and watched as the mixture danced and sizzled until it had reached a stage of equilibrium and the mixture turned an aqua blue. Carefully, he poured it into a fresh phial and inspected his work.

"The first prototype," He said, shaking it. "But whom to test it on?"

The shouts of men started from above once more, louder, and more aggressive this time. Kredins cursed, his wizened face lighting up in anguished animation.

Then a call: "Daddy!"

Kredins immediately lowered the phial and rushed up the serpentine stairs.

"Daddy! The rebels are getting angry again."

Kredins halted at the kitchen table. Three children, dressed in the finest clothes affordable in all of Grryslin, watched their father eagerly, their faces stuffed with the most exquisite of food and their little eyes greedy with delight.

"Not rebels, Fatimere, they have a right to voice their opinions as much as we do."

"But do they have to make so much commotion about it?"

"Well, Vaneily, I know it's hard for you to understand, but past Earls have enforced laws that have not been entirely popular with the Prieneriet class, and they choose now to defy against the noble rule of the Earldom." Kredins examined his children. "And the current Earl has his work cut out containing some of the rowdy members of the Prieneriet."

Kredins's youngest child shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. "But some of the things they have said about the Earl, Daddy, it's horrible. And the Grosolitz, they say that the Grosolitz are murderers who hoard food for themselves."

Kredins stiffened; his back ached from the intensive labour.

"What are the Grosolitz, Daddy?" Vaneily asked.

"Well, I'm part of the Grosolitz, and technically so are you. We own property and are mostly state officials for the Earl."

Fatimere began to whimper. "I'm not a murderer, Daddy."

"No you're not, sweetie, they're just lies the Prieneriet want people believe to get their way."

"So why doesn't the Earl just let them get their way?" His boy said.

"Because then, Crystan, we will lose all of our belongings and all our lovely food." He marvelled at his three children, smiles returning to their innocent faces. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

They shook their heads collectively. "Now be good children and eat your dinner. I've got work to get on with, Jeymes will look after you." He snapped his fingers and a sharp-nosed, clean-shaven servant appeared from a dark alcove.

"Can't you stay longer?" Crystan squealed.

"No son, I have to go."

A loud crashed echoed from outside, followed by a man screaming.

"Goodnight children!"

"Goodnight!" They echoed.

----------------------------------------------

The whole theatre house erupted with exaggerated laughter; legs stamped on floors, fists pounded on tables, some people even fell off their stools. Shouts, chants and threats were chorused in a constant cacophony of ugly, unorganised noise. A great rabble of trouble makers, Kredins thought.