"What the hell does that even mean?" I spoke with every intention of sounding like the rugged group of peers I've traveled with, but my lack of facial character and a voice that borders on naive lends to a far different opinion. "Omerta? It's a code of silence. Randall Blythe once spoke to me at length on the matter." Whenever Randall was spoken of, it rarely deviated from the topic of violence, especially when concerned with province he called home. Cinquedea started as a den of thieves, a haven for the less than savory fringes of society gathered together. Since its inception it has grown into its own industry, a place where I've been told anything can be secured.
Anything. I had heard tales of the lawlessness and moral desolation that found respite there but I hadn't the faintest clue there was structure to the madness of Cinquedea. Mr. Hightower continued.
"I believe Randall stated it as such:
Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward.
Whoever cannot take care of themselves without the law is both.
For a wounded man shall say to his assailant,
If I live I will kill you, if I die, you are forgiven.
Such is the rule of honour."
By his posture and tone, it was evident that the phrase was recited verbatim, as if it had been reposited to be soliloquized on command. I imagine this "code of silence" held some kind of authority in its own right, a recognition of those privy to what it entails.
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