47

Reprimands

It was a rare moment for Sister Ezria to be available at any point. Caspar asked many people, and they all said she was otherwise engaged.

He wasn’t fully sure who he asked. They seemed to be around her a lot and all had fanciful titles that seemed to serve no purpose other than to complicate things.

There was the Head Secretary, Chief Head Secretary, Secondary Chief Head Secretary, Second Secondary Chief Head Secretary, Vice Chief Head Secretary, Secondary Vice Chief Head Secretary, and another Chief Head Secretary which a fight broke out over.

It didn’t matter much, the titles kept changing constantly, and they didn’t really do much.

So what were they then? Advisors, maybe, but they didn’t advise her on anything, unless it was to advise her on what not to do, because she never listened to them. Council, possibly, but the only people they counseled was each other.

Entourage? He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it sounded right.

Whatever they were, they always knew where she was and always knew she was never available.

Today, she was available, and Caspar didn’t even need to seek her out.

She sent for him.

He didn’t know why she felt the need for it to be an armed escort, even if it was just the one bovine with the filed down horns.

He just marched right up to Caspar, heavy woodcutter's axe in hand, and said, ‘Sister Ezria wants to see you.’

Caspar never expected him to sound like that. He was expecting something like throwing gravel into a metal drum. It was firm, yet soft. A man who knew hard work and how to do what they were told. There was something else in that voice. Possibly regretful, or maybe a little tired.

Whatever it was, it didn’t convery much confidence.

‘Ezria? Me? Now?’ Caspar asked in the midst of eating an apple.

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

He only shrugged in response.

Caspar looked to Kathiya, who gave a shrug as well. She clearly had no idea, so he wondered what he did to attract her attention.

‘Alright then,’ he said, finishing off the apple and getting to his feet. Right now, they didn’t have much but a few old boxes to use as makeshift stools, and there wasn’t much left to do since the last demonstration, so the sudden change was rather welcome.

The broad man gestured onward with a nod of his head, and Caspar led the way.

Their walk took them through the tilted, dusty halls toward what must have once been the manager’s office, all in a heavy silence between the two.

‘So…’ Caspar said as they walked. ‘Do you have a name?’

It took some time for him to answer. Eventually, he muttered out a single word, ‘Gorsen.’

‘I’m Caspar! Nice to meet you.’

‘Hmm,’ was all he hummed in response.

‘Have you been in the revolution long?’

‘A while,’ he said after another heavy pause, either unwilling to answer or deliberating on it.

‘Just a few days for me. There’s a lot wrong with the city, and Sister Ezria seems like she knows how to fix it. Though I thought it would be a little different. There’s a lot of injustice in the world, and it’s a knight’s duty to bring the evil and wicked to justice. What I heard from Sister Ezria was like that. Freedom from tyranny and oppression. A chance for justice and equality to prevail and for people to live a better life. Stuff like that. It’s just… I dunno. After yesterday and everything that happened. I’m not sure anymore.’ The past few days gave Caspar a lot to think about. Things appeared to be getting a lot more complicated as they travelled more, and Caspar wasn’t used to thinking too hard about things.

‘You a knight?’

‘No. Not yet. I want to be. I just need to prove myself.’

‘You’d…’ Gorsen said with some hesitance. ‘You’d make a good knight. We need more like you.’

Caspar blushed a little and scratched behind his ear. ‘T-thanks.’ He wasn’t used to getting compliments. ‘When did you join?’

‘Since it started.’

‘Must have been quite something to begin a revolution.’

‘Yeah. It was different back then.’

They’d reached the door to what was once the manager's office. Gorsen opened the door and gave Caspar a rare smile. His was a face that appeared to be one that didn’t smile often, so Caspar felt pleased he could bring one, if only for a fleeting moment. There was a sadness in that smile. Like being reminded of something lost a long time ago.

As far as the warehouse went, this was the least damaged room, or maybe the most restored.

Books sat fresh and untouched on new, polished wooden shelves, heavily cushioned lounge chairs surrounded a large fire pit, large sculptures of crystalline plants decorated each corner, and a fat desk more in line with something you would find in a bank made for the centrepiece of the whole room.

It was as though he stepped from one building into another and had just not realised it.

Sister Ezria sat in a high-backed chair, leaning onto one arm as a scribe recorded every word she said onto a piece of paper.

‘And let it be known that we shall only reach true equality when the unjust hoarders of the merchants, the nobility, and the lords willingly give up their profits obtained by the exploitation of the working class, either through their own action or through force. Only then their transition from their evil elitist ways to the humble nature of the working class… No, no wait. Remove that last part. That doesn’t sound right.’

The door clicked shut, and the attention of Ezria and her scribe turned to Caspar.

‘Ah. The merc,’ she said in a voice that didn’t sound nearly as welcoming as it did when he first joined.

‘Yeah… That’s me.’

‘Please, take a seat.’

He did so, easing into one of the overpriced chairs before the great desk. Only now did he realise how elevated Sister Ezria’s desk actually was, forcing him to tilt his head up more than usual to meet her at eye level.

He felt small, or at least smaller than usual.

She finished her speech; the scribe stopped writing, and she turned her attention to Caspar, the gaze of her deep brown eyes setting upon him.

‘I understand something happened during last night’s demonstration.’

‘Oh yeah, a lot happened! It was chaos! I’ve never seen something like that before!’

She nodded and scribbled down notes, almost with a dismissive tone, as though she was urging him to finish his story.

‘Then there was a fire, then some people broke into a shop, then I saw some people chasing down an old man-’

‘And is that the point you attacked Norsev?’

She interrupted so bluntly that it broke his train of thought. Then he had to pause and ask, ‘... Who?’

‘The avian brother with the unique haircut. He tells me that you interrupted him as he tried to apprehend an enemy of the revolution.’

‘He tried to hit me first. All I did was push him over when he tried to hit me.’

‘Was this before or after you shot him with an arrow?’

‘That wasn’t me! I don’t know who that was!’ Caspar pleaded, but it fell on ears that refused to listen.

‘Are you telling me Norsev is a liar?’

‘What? No… I guess. Maybe he’s just wrong.’

‘Norsev is a loyal soldier in our cause!’ Her dist came down on the table, rattling a lamp and disturbing a few papers. ‘I won’t hear you badmouth him because of his duty to a better future.’

‘He was trying to kill an old man.’

‘If he was truly innocent, he would have allowed our brothers and sisters to question him.’

‘That’s not how I remember it.’

‘It doesn’t matter how you remember it. All that matters is your word against Norsev’s, and he has been aiding our cause far longer than you have. I’m sure he had a perfectly justifiable reason for apprehending this man.’

‘But he had nothing to do with this!’

‘If they are part of the system, they are contributing to it.’

’And how many more people like that will be hurt?’

‘You’ll never achieve anything without sacrifice. Let it be known that all who are hurt will be doing so in service of the cause. Once our utopia is built, there will be no need for shame, or regrets, as we know that their lives were given so that others may live in true equality, unity, and prosperity.’ She stopped to turn to her scribe. ‘That’s good, write that down.’ She turned back to Caspar with the look of a teacher scolding a student that they never wanted to teach in the first place. ‘Look, I understand you’re new here, so I’m willing to let this one go, but I won’t tolerate another infraction like this. There’s another demonstration happening soon, I expect you to be there. And it would be in your best interest if you were not to attack your own side again, do you understand?

‘But-’

‘I won’t hear any more of your excuses. Now fall in line or Gorsen will make you.’

With impeccable timing, there came a knock at the door, and Gorsen walked through carrying along another heavy chest. ‘Sister Ezria, another donation has been delivered.’

‘Ah, wonderful. Excellent timing, Gorsen. Please, see Caspar out.’

‘No, that’s okay.’ Caspar stood from the chair and barged past Gorsen. ‘I’ll see myself out.’ He said it in a voice that didn’t sound right in his own mouth. Harsher and blunter than he had ever spoken before.

He sounded more like Ves’sa.

He didn’t care. He just wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. He tried to do the right thing, didn’t he? Why was he being punished? Why was it all so unfair?

Right now, questions like that didn’t even matter. He just wanted to get his axe and hit something.

‘Is it wise to let him leave like that?’

‘It’s fine. It’s important that we open up a conversation, so long as he comes to the correct opinion. He’ll learn he’s wrong. If not, then he was always against us from the start.’

Gorsen placed the chest in front of her, which she proceeded to open. A warm smile crossed her face as she eyed the contents. The light of gold glowed back at her.

She pulled out a note that sat on top and read the contents.

‘Wonderful. Put it with the rest.’ He nodded and took the chest to the corner of the room, where a cupboard had disguised a spot where painting was incomplete. He opened it, fiddled with something, and pushed the chest in.

Ezria dropped the note onto her desk and stood, her scribe in tow. ‘Our plan is moving ahead. Call our “friend.” Let him know that we need to move things forward faster than we planned.’ A smile crossed her face, not one of kindness and empathy, but one of malicious intent. One that knew something bad was going to happen, and did not care. A smile that was willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goal, no matter the consequence. ‘We’ll move the demonstration. Let us strike at the heart of this corrupted city.’

Gorsen nodded a solemn nod and held the door open as Ezria and her scribe left. The door closed behind them, and the room fell into silence.

Somewhere above, in a corner yet to be patched up, a hooded head popped out and looked around.

Empty.

Perfect.

Kathiya dropped from the ceiling and landed with all the weight and noise of a feather. Even the floorboard seemed to notice no difference in how much weight they were carrying.

For her first order of business, she opened up the cupboard only to be greeted with what looked to be a heavy, metal door. This was new. Solid steel, and with no discernable keyhole. Only a dial surrounded by numbers, and a crank.

She had heard about these. A recent invention in the League, where a code had to be inserted by twisting the dial, and the right numbers would unlock the safe.

How many numbers? One hundred. This could take a while, a while longer than she had. She twisted the dial, pulled at the handle, pulled harder, pulled at it with all her weight, then let go and hit the door with her fist.

Still nothing. She left in a huff.

Maybe there was a code or a clue or something that could help her get in.

The desk was blanketed in notes and files of all kinds. A few letters from allies all over the continent and beyond, ideas and scraps from unfinished manuscripts and manifestos, and… what’s this?

A single letter sat atop the pile. A recent note unwrinkled and fresh and only very recently written, compared to the other letters, anyway.

Sister Ezria,

I hear the revolution is making progress. The elite of this city are starting to talk.

It seems quite some time since I gave you your first donation, with which you have sired this glorious movement.

Your progress is well, yet I feel it is not quite enough. Significant action must be taken, and it’s time we struck fear into the corrupted heart of this city.

It won’t be easy, and many shall be hurt, but I feel that the sacrifice will be worth it.

For the cause.

Your friend.

Another mysterious donator. How strange. To Kathiya, this one felt different. There was something sentimental about the whole thing.

Now that was interesting. Looks like someone has been pushing things from the very beginning, far before Evandis, Mante, Phaos and everyone else got involved.

And by the look of things, it was going to ramp up.

If anything, things were certainly going to get far more interesting.