Leavetaking 1
This was Fisk’s very first real assignment. He was excited and a little nervous, but he couldn’t let that show to the two Manor warriors who strode silently with him. They were both tough and stern, without a shred of emotion in their eyes. Their strength was unblemished by the weakness of the world, their one purpose to serve and uphold the Manor.
I want to be like that one day.
Emotion is worthless, Master Zemus often taught, except to the ones who knew how to use it to their advantage. Emotion makes people second-guess their instinct, fail at a time of need, and become susceptible to the control of others. To master emotion is to hold oneself in perfect control and have mastery over others.
Master Zemus is right. It’s for their own good. They don’t even realize that they are their own worst enemy and that the Manor is here to protect them from their self-made downfall.
Everything that Master Zemus ever taught him was right, Fisk knew. After making examples out of the children who used to pick on him, no one had dared to pick on him again. In fact, they stayed far away from him with looks of fearful respect. And respect felt good.
People can be taught, Master Zemus says. They’re lost to their own petty internal monologue. But once you teach them the hard lessons, they won’t forget.
Just like the school kids. They weren’t his friends, still, but Fisk didn’t care. They were beneath him, not likely to ever amount to anything more than the lowest ranks of Manor mages and warriors. Maybe, if they worked hard enough, they might be chosen for special training, like the warriors he walked with now.
Fisk doubted that, though. Only very special people were chosen to fill the higher ranks and come to understand the true purpose behind the Manor. Not everyone could comprehend such greatness, Master Zemus told him.
Fisk believed that.
The sound of their boots crunched off of the stone along the shoddy country road. A slight memory skimmed through his thoughts, of a time before city life, with his family in the countryside. The boy spent so much time within the Manor that he rarely had a chance to see the open fields and forests anymore.
It was all ripe with promise, Master Zemus said. The land was good and the people, once persuaded, were hard working. All of this was meant to come under the hold of the Manor one day. Under such a rule, the people would produce for the establishment, things would become organized, and the poor that used to struggle, like his parents, would be given an opportunity to become something better.
If they have the sense to choose something better for themselves.
Fisk didn’t understand it. It was strange how people fought. He watched parents resist when the Manor offered to take their children and give them a better place in life. He watched peasants struggle when the city annexed their farms, lands that rightfully belonged to the Manor in the first place, when they should have been more than happy to accept a place within the system.
We have reading and writing and magic and technology. A society of organized living that can benefit everyone. Things that they can’t even begin to comprehend.
Yet, they still resisted. And some, like the Anarchy movement, even fought to bring the Manor down.
It’s insanity. Why would anyone want to destroy the very thing that enlightens and protects the people?
The blackout that occurred last night was the work of Anarchy. No one said a lot about it, but everyone knew. The group sabotaged the power sources, and it was whispered, attempted to assassinate some of the High Mages during the confusion.
Of course, they weren’t successful. But their actions caused a lot of damage to the energy grid that would take time to repair.
Did they even care that they’d leave the city without power until all this could get fixed?
Anarchy had been a thorn in the Manor’s side for longer than Master Zemus cared to discuss. At first, they weren’t taken too seriously. People thought them nothing more than a nuisance that would eventually burn out and go away.
Time went by, and they didn’t go away. More frustratingly, the Manor also never seemed to be able to catch anyone from Anarchy in the act. There were a few suspicious people. A few names on a list somewhere. But nothing that anyone could prove.
Not until now.
Something happened during the attack last night, though Fisk wasn’t privy to the full details. He could sense things, though. Sense things in motion. Perhaps they found a lead on something that could give them more information about the leadership of the Anarchy.
Whatever it is, it’s important. They sent a response team quickly.
Their orders were to push full-tilt until they reached their destination. They were supposed to find and apprehend anyone on sight. They were then to interrogate and obtain as much information from the people they found there.
Master Zemus suspects there will be resistance.
Which was normal, when dealing with people that have connections to the Anarchy.
Fisk fingered the grip of his sword. It swayed lightly back and forth, a comforting feeling at his hip. He trained long, hard hours to hone his abilities. He struggled to overcome his own internal failings, fought to strengthen his mind and body, and eventually rose above the stereotypes that tried to hold him down.
They told him he was slow-witted. They told him that his body was weak and frail. But Master Zemus didn’t believe those things, and he gave Fisk a new belief in himself. He gave the boy the best teachers that the Manor could spare. And from that, he had grown.
I’ll show Master Zemus that I’m ready to do this. I’ll pay him back for all that he’s invested in me.
“We’re almost there,” one of the warriors spoke quietly. It was the first time Fisk heard him say a word.
The boy’s gaze slid past him, to the quiet little house in the glade ahead. It looked peaceful, nestled in the middle of a garden of quiet flowers. It was sleepy and quiet, unlike what one would expect to find when making a raid against a dangerous resistance group.
The other two warriors paused for a moment, checking for any sign of danger before they proceeded. Finally, one nodded and motioned forward with his hand.
Fisk gripped his sword tightly, but didn’t unsheathe it. He fought to calm the sound of his pounding heart and quiet his breathing as he followed.
It doesn’t matter who’s in there. I’m going to teach them that Anarchy won’t be tolerated.