Ending at 716 words, I present to you:


[hider=The tale of the Saviour of Ostagon]
The thriving city of Ostagon was ideally situated at a junction of major roads. The roads leading to the city were broad enough for two wagons to pass each other, and leave room for people to walk at the sides of the road. They crossed within the city, and between the gates they were neatly paved with granite slabs, so evenly laid the travellers felt as if they were riding on water. 

From the East Gate to the West Gate, from the North Gate to the South Gate, the main streets were filled with shops. Anyone travelling through the city had ample choice for buying the finest of goods. Traders sold wares from all over the world. Tailors, goldsmiths, glassblower, artists, pastry bakers, they all sold their finest crafts and foods to the traders and travellers passing through. 
At the junction itself was the oldest inn of the city, it was the first building that had been built at the crossroad, followed by shops and houses until Ostagon reached its full glory. 

Smaller inns were scattered around the four districts, amongst the houses of the citizens, and the bakers, butchers and smaller shops that supplied them. When there was no school, children were allowed to play on the streets, as long as they kept off the main street. 
The citizens all wore fine clothes. Judging by what the poorest wore proved there was no poverty in the city. 

With the basic necessities more than met, the people of Ostagon focused on the performing arts: theatre and music. They read and debated science and philosophy. That, in turn, attracted nobles wanting to see a performance and scholars who wanted to talk with the bright minds of the city.

But the wealth of the city attracted swindlers and thieves too. A City Guard was brought to life to deal with those seeking advantage of honest customers and hardworking citizens. 

The strong sir Morgon was the best of the best. No hand was sleight enough for his trained eyes and he had brought many pickpockets, purse-cutters, and thieves to the dungeon under the city hall. When riots broke out, he was there to arrest the culprits. When shopkeepers were threatened with a sword, he stood up to defend them. 

With his mighty sword he brought justice when evil showed its face.

One day a group of barbarians came, hidden as refugees they came to the city only to reveal the weapons under their cloaks. Keeping their swords high in the air they were ready to pillage Ostagon, but sir Morgon and the other guards stood their ground and the earth got soaked in the blood of the enemies. It sent a clear message to anyone who had a similar idea: they would not allow the city to be raided and anyone who would try would perish.

Sir Morgon was celebrated as a hero and their peaceful, prosperous lives went on.  

But the times changed. War broke out and trading came to a halt. Fewer people travelled the roads now the country was in turmoil and food supplies dwindled.

The good people of Ostagon had relied so much on trading goods and buying what they needed, that most of them didn’t even know how to grow their own food or make their own clothes. And the price of food went up every day.

Children who once played in the streets now scavenged the city to look for food. But good sir Morgon was still there, keeping the city safe.

A child stealing a loaf of bread was quickly plucked from the street and thrown in the dungeon, a mother stealing a necklace to sell for food so she could feed her family was put on the scaffold as an example. And the rioting citizens who wanted to defend such lowly criminals were struck down with sir Morgon’s mighty sword. 

It puzzled him when someone called him a heartless beast after he kicked away a woman clinging to his legs, pleading to let some stealing boy go. The apples weren’t his and if he’d allow this child to steal now, it would continue to steal. Others might see it as approval of stealing and before everyone knew it people would murder each other. 

There would be no lawlessness in his city. 

[/hider]