41

For the Cause

Caspar found himself sitting between a bunch of other revolutionaries discussing things of which he had no idea of. Sometimes, they spoke of the revolution, to which many arguments broke out. Each had their own ideas of what they wanted for society, and any different view was seen as threatening. Aside from that, they mostly talked about what plays they had seen, and their views on which was better. This caused much more violent arguments to break out, but they seemed more devout in their opinions, so they could maintain it for longer.

‘Don’t give me any of that! The Siege of Valus is trite garbage with an overly simplistic plot and barebones characters!’

‘At least the playwright isn’t some noble bootlicker!’

‘What does that have to do with the story?’

‘Everything! Their beliefs go into the writing! Then it influences others who go to watch it! The Siege of Valus may not be the most complex story, but at least it isn’t establishment propaganda like Sadist Blade is.’

‘Not everything has to have a message. And just because it doesn’t, that doesn’t make it political.’

‘Everything is political. I think you’ll find that the playwright's silence on the matter speaks louder than anything.’

They continued their bickering about things that Caspar had no idea of. He wondered when Esria would be returning. At this point, Caspar was starting to feel this whole revolution was aimless. It felt less like an actual revolution and more like a secret club where people who hate each other can get together and hate everyone else more.

‘You, kid!’ One of the members started clicking his fingers at Caspar, pulling him out of his intense thinking. ‘What do you think is better? The Siege of Valus or Sadis Blade?’

‘Oh. Uh... I dunno. I’ve never actually seen a play before.’

Caspar once saw a group of travelling actors pass through Orrick: they complained about the smell, spat on the ground, and shooed him away when they thought he was a passing street urchin. He assumed this was how they all behaved and therefore never had any interest in going to see a play.

‘Uh. Poor people.’ And they turned and continued their conversation with each other.

Something didn’t quite add up in Caspar’s head. He wasn’t sure what, but it ate at him, like when a catchy melody gets stuck in there and he couldn’t remember from where he heard it.

He decided a walk would be helpful and left them to their bickering.

The people around him were around his age, if not older by only a small margin. Even being among his age group, and doing something he thought was a good cause, he felt quite alone.

Where had Kathiya gotten to? He got so enraptured by Esria’s speech, that he wandered off in search of some like-minded people. He hoped she wasn’t stealing anything again.

A bell rang out further within, and a portly feline with ginger fur walked through.

‘Donations!’ he called through the halls, ringing his bell. ‘Donations for the cause!’ He spotted Caspar, and thrust the collection basket at him.

‘Money? I thought we were taking money from the tyrannous oppressors?’

‘And we will. For now, all brothers and sisters must contribute to the cause.’

Caspar fished through his pockets, knowing full well their contents beforehand, but making a good show of nothing having anything. ‘Sorry. I’m a little short right now.’

‘Really? How unusual. Normally, anyone here has something.’

‘Not me.’

‘Hmm. I wonder how Sister Esria will see it.’

‘So where is she, anyway?’

‘She’s very busy, I assure you. Today, she’s had meetings with many important figure heads. Many people from the printing presses, many important playwrights, several sympathetic politicians. You know, that kind of thing.’

‘Oh. Okay. Didn’t expect that. She’s meeting the people who she wants to topple? Isn’t that a bit brazen?’

‘I suppose so. I guess our leader has some friends in high places. Or maybe they see it as an ironic thing.’

‘So who’s in charge while she’s gone?’

‘In charge? Why, no one is in charge. We have no leader. All are equal in our new society. We are only brothers and sisters in arms against the chains of tyranny.’

‘That makes… sense?’ Caspar had no idea if it made sense and wasn’t sure how convincing he sounded.

‘Aise from that, Brother Wesley likes to try and take charge while she’s away.’

Caspar’s mind was cast back to the rally from earlier, where the weasel tried to give a rousing speech about hard work and unity, and the corruption of the elite. He remembered his voice cracking mid way through. ‘That guy from earlier? He doesn’t seem much older than me!’

‘Precisely. He may not be the most imposing… or charismatic… or experienced... or competent, but he has spirit, and that’s what counts.’

‘So why does it feel like he’s at the front and centre of all this?’

‘Oh, you know, he’s loud and can memorise a script. Plus, he’s a good representative for the Mustelids. Now we just need ones for the Reptilians, the Canids, the Felines, and a whole host of others. We haven’t even started with representatives of faith and sexual persuasion!’ He looked down to the young Caspar, and cocked his head slightly. ‘So what group are you with, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘Groups? I didn’t know there were groups. I just assumed we all called ourselves “revolutionaries.”’

‘Well, there’re the Crushers, the Busters, the Smashers, the Crashers, the Bashers, the Thrashers, the People's United Front Against Tyranny, and the United Front Against Tyranny for the People.’ He pointed out the multitude of groups that swarmed the warehouse. All similarly dressed, all of similar age, all of similar temperament. ‘Don’t get them mixed up. They hate that.’

‘Sounds similar to Phaos.’

‘Is it?’ He turned his head in a moment of contemplation. ‘I don’t see it. You see that group there?’ He lowered himself to Caspar’s level and pointed at one of the many indistinguishable collectives. ‘You should be careful about what they say. That group believes there’s a secret cabal of Avians that secretly controls the world in secret.’

‘Really? That doesn’t make much sense.’

‘Yeah. It’s stupid. We all know it’s the Lizards who control everything.’

‘Ah. Right,’ he responded, shutting down the conversation as quick as possible. ‘Most here don't look like they've seen a day of work in their life. So if we’re a revolution for the working class, where are they all?’

‘Out working, I imagine. That’s okay. Better, actually. This way we can act on their behalf.’

‘You never considered bringing any?’

‘I would if I knew any of them. I love the working-class people! I just don’t want to have to talk to or look at any of them. Now…’ He shook the collection basket once again. Caspar had a little money left, enough for just some food. But if he donated, what would he do for food?

A hand reached across from the side of his head and dropped some coins into the basket.

‘There you go,’ said a chipper, feminine voice. ‘Hope that’s enough.’

The collector weighed the newfound contents.

‘A little light, but it will do for now.’ He left to continue collecting donations.

‘Kathiya! I was wondering where you’d gotten to. Where have you been?’

‘Oh, you know. Just exercising the revolutionary ideals.’

‘Nice. How?’

‘Re-appropriating funds.’

‘From where?’ he asked in a suspicious tone, already guessing at the answer.

‘In a locked chest, behind a locked door, behind some guards, in a hidden part of the building. It was so easy, they were practically begging me to take it.’

‘You can’t do that! Those coins are to be redistributed!’

‘That’s what I’m doing. Redistributing them to me.’

‘They’re to go to the poor and underprivileged!’

‘Which I’m pretty sure I am.’

‘I… Well, I guess that’s not completely wrong, but still, it’s a bit-’

The doors of the warehouse flew open, and a young man ran through. His shrill voice cut through the hall, screaming something in either panic or excitement. They couldn’t tell which.

That Wesley kid from before. The weasel with the fluffy, curly hair that gave the speech when they entered. That young man that always sounded like he had too much saliva in his mouth.

‘A protest!’ he screamed. ‘A protest!’

‘Sorry, what?’ another asked.

‘Sister Esria says it’s time to take to the streets! To show the elites that we’re really here!’

‘A real protest?’ others asked, as the groups gathered into one audience.

Mutterings swarmed the groups; some excited, others less so. Either way, it felt as though all the blustering would finally pay off. So far, it had been a revolution of only talk, and no action. The gears of change had begun to turn, and all wondered where they would turn to.

Caspar would have been excited, yet something felt wrong. Kathiya shared the sentiment and was determined to find out.