Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

firelight. He recognized the voice; General Demoux had arrived on the scene.
    Elend slowed. Better to let the general deal with the disturbance. There was a big difference between being disciplined by one's military commander and one's emperor. The men would be better off if Demoux were the one to punish them.
    The fighting, however, did not stop.
    "Stop this!" Demoux yelled again, moving into the conflict. A few of the brawlers listened to him, pulling back. The rest, however, just continued to fight. Demoux pushed himself into the melee, reaching to pull apart two of the combatants.
    And one of them punched him. Square in the face, throwing Demoux to the ground.
    Elend cursed, dropping a coin and Pushing himself forward. He fell directly into the middle of the firelight, Pushing out with a Soothing to dampen the emotions of those fighting.
    "Stop!" he bellowed.
    They did, freezing, one of the soldiers standing over the fallen General Demoux.
    "What is going on here?" Elend demanded, furious. The soldiers looked down. "Well?" Elend said, turning toward the man who had punched Demoux.
    "I'm sorry, my lord," the man grumbled. "We just . . ."
    "Speak, soldier," Elend said, pointing, Soothing the man's emotions, leaving him compliant and docile.
    "Well, my lord," the man said. "They're cursed, you know. They're the reason Lady Vin got taken. They were speaking of the Survivor and his blessings, and that just smacked me as hypocrisy, you know? Then, of course their leader would show, demanding that we stop. I just . . . well, I'm tired of listening to them, is all."
    Elend frowned in anger. As he did so, a group of the army's Mistings—Ham at their head—shoved through the crowd. Ham met Elend's eyes, and Elend nodded toward the men who had been fighting. Ham made quick work of them, gathering them up for reprimand. Elend walked over, pulling Demoux to his feet. The grizzled general looked more shocked than anything.
    "I'm sorry, my lord," Demoux said quietly. "I should have seen that coming . . . I should have been ready for it."
    Elend just shook his head. The two of them watched quietly until Ham joined them, his police pushing the troublemakers away. The rest of the crowd dispersed, returning to their duties. The solitary bonfire burned alone in the night, as if shunned as a new symbol of bad luck.
    "I recognized a number of those men," Ham said, joining Elend and Demoux as the troublemakers were led away. "Mistfallen."
    Mistfallen. The men who, like Demoux, had lain sick from the mists for weeks, instead of a single day. "This is ridiculous," Elend said. "So they remained sick awhile longer. That doesn't make them cursed!"
    "You don't understand superstition, my lord," Demoux said, shaking his head and rubbing his chin. "The men look for someone to blame for their ill luck. And . . . well, it's easy to see why they'd be feeling their luck was bad lately. They've been hard on anyone who was sickened by the mists; they're just most hard on we who were out the longest."
    "I refuse to accept such idiocy in my army," Elend said. "Ham, did you see one of those men strike Demoux?"
    "They hit him?" Ham asked with surprise. "Their general?"
    Elend nodded. "The big man I was talking to. Brill is his name, I think. You know what will have to be done."
    Ham cursed, looking away.
    Demoux looked uncomfortable. "Maybe we could just . . . throw him in solitary or something."
    "No," Elend said through his teeth. "No, we hold to the law. If he'd struck his captain, maybe we could let him off. But deliberately striking one of my generals? The man will have to be executed. Discipline is falling apart as it is."
    Ham wouldn't look at him. "The other fight I had to break up was also between a group of regular soldiers and a group of mistfallen."
    Elend ground his teeth in frustration. Demoux, however, met his eyes. You know what needs to be done, he seemed to say.
    Being a king isn't always about doing what you want, Tindwyl had often said. It's about doing what needs to be done.
    "Demoux," Elend said. "I think the problems in Luthadel are even more serious than our difficulties with discipline. Penrod looked toward us for support. I want you to gather a group of men and take them back along the canal with the messenger, Conrad. Lend aid to Penrod and bring the city back under control."
    "Yes, my lord," Demoux said. "How many soldiers should I take?"
    Elend met his eyes. "About three hundred should suffice." It was the number who were