THE ASH SOLSTICE Campaign I — The Watchman's Burden Chapter 1Day 1 Approximately Fifteen Minutes Before the Ash Fell Sergeant Gavin Anderson steps out of the Western Watch Post onto the streets.
“Anderson, what’s the plan for today?” Bram asks.
“Recruit Bram, we treat today like any other day, greet the citizens, help them, and acknowledge that today is going to be a lot for everyone. Be on your toes.” Gavin responds with the understanding that this was Bram’s first Midsummer Festival on Watch duty.
The Midsummer Festival has transformed the city into something almost unrecognizable. Every street seems louder than the last. Children dart between market stalls clutching berry pastries. Merchants shout over one another, competing with musicians whose melodies drift between rows of brightly colored banners. The scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and summer flowers hangs upon the warm afternoon air.
For most of the city, today is a celebration.
For the City Watch, it is one of the busiest shifts of the year.
Anderson's assigned route lies well beyond Market Square, where Captain Lang and much of the festival Watch presence have been concentrated. Everyone expects the Square to be the day's greatest trouble spot.
The Western District is a neighborhood of workshops, homes, and busy crossroads where festival traffic spills into the surrounding streets. Warehouses stand beside repair yards and crowded tenements. Heavy supply carts move along streets built wide enough to carry provisions toward the walls. Behind barred doors rest the reserves intended to sustain the city through a siege no one truly expected to see.
As Gavin watches the people go about their preparations, he can see and name nearly eight out of every ten. This is neither the richest quarter nor the poorest, but one where familiar faces far outnumber strangers. People recognize the Watch here. Some offer polite nods. Others wave. Children occasionally stop to stare at polished armor before being hurried along by laughing parents.
“Elena, did your son make it into the league yet?” Thomas asks.
“No, he got tripped up in the last inning, I called foul but the ref sided with the northern district’s team.”
“What about your kid Serg? Gonna see them later?”
“Yeah, I promised Heather and Ian I would meet up with them after shift.”
The district has remained manageable so far. A few heated arguments. Several lost children reunited with anxious families. One drunken brawl broken apart before fists became knives. Nothing unusual for a festival.
A church bell rings in the distance from the Cathedral of Light, where much of the city will congregate later for the Burning of Warmth ceremony. Gavin looks up to the sun, nearly directly overhead. Blistering hot.
“Serg, I am going to run over to the watering station, fill some buckets for the kids. We don’t need anyone passing out in this.” Ellis notes.
“That is smart, Ellis. We could also wet some hats, pass them around, keep body heat lower.” Marta adds.
Gavin smiles at his squad.
Intuitive, capable, and adaptive.
He nods his acknowledgment to the two of them and turns back towards Weaver’s Alley. He had heard Merrin Holt had a minor dispute this morning. Something about vandalism to one of the support beams. Dorian had handled it well, but it always pays off to check in and remind the citizens they haven’t been overlooked. Merrin is an overly cautious, sky-is-falling type, probably worried the whole building will fall on him over a few chicken scratches.
Something changes.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Gavin feels the warmth on his face vanish.
The breeze dies.
Conversations falter.
One woman slowly looks skyward.
Another follows.
Then an entire street.
When his eyes lift toward the blistering sun—
The sun no longer resembles the one that rose this morning.
Its golden light has become bruised violet.
Its edges ripple unnaturally.
Like cream spoiling within water.
Someone whispers, "...What is happening?"
Gray ash begins to drift from the sky.
Soft. Silent. Beautiful...
Until the first flakes touch exposed skin.
A man cries out, clawing at his hand where the ash has touched him. A child begins screaming. Across the district, whistles pierce the silence.
One.
Rally.
Then another.
Rally.
Then half a dozen more answer from different streets.
Rally. Rally. Rally… Immediate Danger… Retreat.
The emergency signals of the City Watch. Panic spreads faster than the ash itself. People begin running without direction. Parents shout for children. Merchants abandon their stalls. Some simply stand frozen, unable to understand what they are witnessing. Footsteps pound against the cobblestones.
Owen appears first from one side street. Thomas from another. Ash clings to their cloaks. Thomas’ breathing is ragged. Marta and Bram arrive close behind. Elena having never left stares at the sun.
"Sergeant..." Thomas struggles to catch his breath. "The whistles are sounding across the city." A brief silence follows. "I can't find Dorian." "I saw him heading toward Weaver's Alley." Owen answers quietly. "My guess..." He hesitates. "...his wife's shop is over there."
Nobody speaks.
The realization settles across the group without needing to be said aloud.
Gavin thinks of Heather and Ian. Thomas's face has gone still. Owen looks back toward the street he came from.
Somewhere in the city, every one of them has someone they cannot see.
The shouting of frightened civilians grows louder.
More whistles answer in the distance. No captain arrives.
No messenger brings fresh orders.
Only frightened people looking to the Watch.