Those that came enmasse were all known as the "unwelcome peoples." Didn't matter the race. They were given warm beds, or rather, sleeping rolls so thick and soft that one did not feel the hard floor, and special blankets enchanted with a magic that chased away bad dreams, and gave gentle ones. And if any came to harm those gathered here, they soon learned where those nightmares went. -- Anon Guest
The sign could be read even by those who did not know how to read. There was a charm on it to be understood by all who came. It said, Those who seek rest, be welcome. Do no harm within, and thereby rest well.
Those who found it truly needed it. Though they were Unwelcome everywhere else, they were Welcome here. They could sleep with sweet dreams. They could eat a whole meal without accusations of crime. There was always a bedroll and shelter from the weather. Food cooked within resulted in more servings than the chef in question might expect. Nobody there went hungry.
Occasionally, very rarely, those who hunted the Unwelcome found the place, too.
They were among the many things that prevented the Unwelcome from just staying there. Another was a sense of growing unease in anyone tempted to take advantage. It was a place of temporary rest. A reprieve from the torments of being Unwelcome. It was not made for permanent residence, merely a stop on the long road to finding peace.
But when the soldiers came, there suddenly were more ways to escape than there were entrances.
When the soldiers came, they quickly found out what happened to those who wanted to cause harm. Consequences always come to those who violate the rules of magical places.
Witness, these knights in gleaming armour, following the orders of their lord. Invade the sanctum. Slaughter the Unwelcome and thereby purge the realm of the scourge. Or rather, what their lord called a scourge. If they had not sworn oaths of obedience, they might have asked how any creature could be a scourge when they were hard pressed eking out an existence.
Asking questions can do much to defeat prejudice. As long as they are asked with an open mind and willingness to learn.
These knights did not ask questions. Even important questions like, "What happens when we violate a magical sanctuary?"
They found out the hard way.
They tried to charge in, lust for violence quelled by a door only wide enough for one. Three attempted to squeeze through at once, until one managed to squirm through despite their armour and their alleged allies. Sword raised and looking for a target, he charged through the space. Mind only on murder.
He should have been excited and energetic. He got twenty paces before weariness sapped his strength. Then his will. Then his ability to stay awake. He slumped to the ground. Asleep.
Three deep snores later, he started screaming.
By then, four of them had attempted to follow suit. They got just as far as the first. Scattered around the sanctuary. Slumped where they stopped.
Asleep.
Screaming.
It was the healers who, with great difficulty and the pure intent to save their comrades, who managed to drag them out. They had to divest themselves and their patients of arms and armour before the sanctuary would let them in... and out.
Their lord called them useless. Donned his own armour and charged in with his sword flashing.
His soldiers, his healers, and all his servants decided to leave him where he collapsed.
Screaming himself to death in his sleep.
[Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash]
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