The Towers are on Strike

When the palace announced the continuation of the old weaving district to open up new buildings, the abandoned houses rebelled. They carried signs of protest over their low roofs, and some even left their foundations and marched against the proclamation.

It was an awkward situation for those who lived there, with houses lined with windows chanting slogans day and night. Even so, most people supported their buildings, and some even joined the war effort, so to speak. The palace has never paid attention to residents and has not heard their complaints.

People may have been ignored, but abandoned homes were a major problem. Their actions were not allowed. The palace will not undermine its walls in that part of the city, however. Tried to send the market to clean up.

Few stores were interested. Some small stalls enter the houses. Instead of forcing houses to remain calm, they set up shop on abandoned roads and sold bricks and cement to protesters, food for their people. (And maybe some bricks to people, and if those goods became projectiles, what did the stores take care of?)

Angry, the palace sent for weeks. Churches of the bishops and others alike had long been entrusted with the authority of the monastery, yet their churches did little to protect the palace walls. Most stayed away. A few bent their nails to bless the marchers. One small church even took to the streets, marching among the abandoned.

It is not acceptable. The palace cut off all the money in the churches and turned it over to the city walls. They approached, commanded, and choked the area. The time had come for the conflict to end. Equip the towers and let them shoot at houses. What does it mean when others fall? They were destined for destruction, however.

Happiness comes down from the wall, anger is angry at being given such money. What was the wall like, if not crushing, splitting, tearing down? It went against its foundations, and it proceeded to extend to the small buildings along its narrow lanes. But the walls could not move by themselves. They needed towers to get them closer to the battlefield, and the towers of the fort.

This was not their intention. They called the walls back against the palace. Towers were raised to protect those roads, not to demolish them. They would not raise a single block of granite against their houses.

We demolished the towers, the palace told the walls. Take your ideal place around the palace and finish everything else. But the towers were blocking them, and the walls could not break through the area.

At that moment, a small army camped outside the city. Perhaps by accident, perhaps called by towers or abandoned buildings, no one later found the truth. Unrestrained by the foundations, unsaved by heavy bricks, the tents flowed directly over the walls, demolished their heights, smashed stone pillars and weapons, mocked the opening of stones so that more tents could flow into the city.

The towers they left behind, however, and the buildings inside were not affected at all. All that they have destroyed is the palace, and they have thrown down with stones in peace but in complete silence. Instead, they built a new palace, made of cloth and tent poles. It is sturdy but flexible and can change quickly, whenever needed.

Pieces of the old palace entered the remaining town. Sometimes, it is true, to strengthen the angry walls. Too often, they became part of buildings that had been demolished, installing old bricks and making old foundations strong again.

The city prospered.