The townsfolk slowly return to their homes and businesses grumbling and moaning on the way. The city of Falador is slowly becoming a jail for the citizens. The city is grand and beautiful with gates open on both ends leading to other cities. The walls stand tall and proud, able to stand up to any siege, though there hasn't been one in years. The townsfolk feel their time of happiness and joy is quickly coming to an end.
"This isn't right."
The western bank manager whispers to one of his employee's as he returns to work.
" Someone needs to stand up to Sir Amik. We are becoming prizoners in our own homes and buisnesses."
"Who will stand up to him? You?"
One of the tellers laughs and returns to her post at the window.
"No one will. We are stuck here with him as our Interim King, best get used to it."
She rolls up the blind and puts on her fake smile, waiting on the next adventurer to come through.
The Bank manager shakes his head and sits at his desk to begin counting the gold deposited earlier in the day before the announcement.
"Eventually there wont be any gold being deposited with the way Sir Amik is going."
Across the city the Hairdresser flips the "Closed" sign to "Open". He walks through and turns on the lights in his tiny shop. He looks down at the pile of hair on the floor he was unable to clean before the announcement. He grabs a broom and begins to sweep up the hair and sends up a whispered prayer to the Gods.
"Saradomin, Guthix, Bandos, someone. Please. Send us a savior."
