The notice went up quietly last night on the Public Board of the Great Square of Ar. While the People threatened to become the Mob, the document was posted. It read:
DAY 6 / MONTH 12 / 10,157 C.A.
BY ORDER OF THE MAGISTRACY OF THE PEOPLE OF AR:
PURSUANT TO PROOF OF CORRUPTION , TAX INCREASES INSTITUTED IN THE MONTH OF SE'KARA 10,157 TO THE PROPERTIES OF THE PEOPLE OF AR AND SERVICES RENDERED WILL BE REPEALED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
(1) BE IT KNOWN, THE 'PEOPLE OF AR' IS DEFINED AS ALL RESIDENTS WITH A LEGAL CLAIM TO CITIZENSHIP WITH A CASTE BENEATH THE HIGH FIVE, WHICH ARE DEFINED AS; INITIATES, PHYSICIANS, BUILDERS, SCRIBES AND WARRIORS.
(2) BE IT KNOWN, THE PEOPLE OF AR ARE SUBJECT TO INCREASED TAXATION ONLY IN TIMES OF WAR, HARDSHIP OF THE STATE, OR EXPANSION OF THE EMPIRE.
(3) BE IT KNOWN, TAXATION AGAINST THE INCOME OF THE PEOPLE OF AR WILL BE APPLIED ONLY AFTER DUE CONSIDERATION OF ALTERNATE FORMS OF REVENUE AND ONLY IN THE EVENT THAT ITEMS DETAILED IN SECTION (2) HAVE OCCURRED.
(4) BE IT KNOWN, THE SCOPE OF THIS OFFICE ACTS AS ADVOCATE ONLY TO LEGAL CITIZENS WITH A CASTE BENEATH THE FIVE HIGH. NO OFFER OF REPRESENTATION IS INTENDED OR IMPLIED TO CITIZENS OUTSIDE OF THE SCOPE OF THIS OFFICE.
(5) THE PEOPLE OF AR, BY WAY OF RESTITUTION, WILL HAVE TAX AGAINST PROPERTIES REDUCED BY THREE PERCENT FOR THE SUBSEQUENT PERIOD OF THIRTY HANDS. TAX ON SERVICES RENDERED IS HEREBY REMOVED. FOR IMMEDIATE AID, CITIZENS SHOULD APPLY DIRECTLY TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CASTE LEADERSHIP.
SIGNED, SZOL OF AR
This morning, the slave Tupita was laden down with a satchel containing signed and notarized copies to be posted to every public board in every district of the city. The investigation will continue, but I suspect it will be at a level above my grade. Now that corruption has been exposed and the knowledge of it made widespread, it is entirely possible that the remaining culprits will be anxious to deflect responsibility onto functionaries, lackeys, and scapegoats, thus painting themselves in the best possible light. It is becoming known that the responsibility lies not only with Initiates placed highly within the White Caste, but also with certain parties in the Administration. I am told that the Administrator's trusted advisor Marcus Claudius covets the title of first citizen. It is only a matter of time before fingers start to point at one another in the halls of the Central Cylinder. Two cases of arson done upon high placed pieces of real estate in the last hand all but guarantees the gears of the guileful are grinding.
The rub of it is this - I don't see governmental reform as the outcome of these events. At best, another will use the Office of the Administrator as a seat of power, abusing his authority, albeit a bit more gently than his predecessors, while the sting of the past year still smarts, remaining fresh in the minds of the People. With the repeal and restitution in place, the risk of further rebellion may not be commensurate to the reward.
Priest-Kings,
I do not ask you for guidance. I do not pray from my knees. I stand in the shadow of the Black Sardar at this, a moment of truth. I speak to you directly. Understand that I do not ask you for permission at this juncture, for any endeavor I choose to undertake. Understand, too, that my transgressions are not directed at you, but at those claiming to speak in your stead. I ask that you do not take offense. I do what I must. Do what you must. I do not fear you. I will not bow. I shall defeat those presuming to be your emissaries. I will not stand by while this fable of fate unfolds, accepting all without question. It is with a clear conscience that I move forward. Mark my name.
Lo Szol, Civititas Aria.
You are Giants. Bow to no one. It was a simple message, scrawled in red paint boldly across the sheer, white wall of the Cylinder of Initiates. The delka, painted under cover of darkness on that same wall, was long since white-washed. This message, a message for the People of Ar, was done with an indignant attitude, at midday, facilitated by a well-rehearsed scuffle on the avenue that fronts the power base of the White. Punches were thrown, guardsmen distracted, and a crowd of apparent onlookers shielded the front wall of the Cylinder while the defacement took place. It was meant to be a blow to the dogmatic, the carnivorous, shaven-headed fear-mongers of the Temple. Let them see that superstitions and pragmatism will not prison all low men in cages of their own fear. Giants. The men of Ar are Giants. Lay your chains upon them at your own peril.
Most disturbing is that the inevitable has occured. A serpent's hiss tells the tale of more than happenstance, but of intricate orchestration. As chaos begins to reign, the strings of the puppet masters pull tauter. The mob rule may play directly into the hands of the elite. On one hand, it is a fine thing, a just thing, for the People to proclaim sa'ng fori, but I wonder if the chains are about to break, finally, or simply be replaced by something far more constricting, pervasive and inescapable.
"I hate you," she said to me.
I collared a woman last night. She has been mine, in a legal sense, for several hands. I administered discipline to her one afternoon in the Office of the Magistrate of the People and then allowed her to dress herself, dismissing her as if she were free. In fact, she had made several verbal and physical gestures of submission which I accepted before she was sent off. That afternoon, I drew up her Writ of Enslavement and filed it away, but she was already owned. Not long after that day, I wished to be served wine by my property. I had her picked up during her afternoon shopping and brought to me. She, believing herself a free woman, was not pleased to be summoned in such a manner. She protested, scandalized, but she served my wine nonetheless.
On another occasion, it occurred to me to exercise rape privileges over my property and I summoned her once again. It was then she chose to stick my thigh with a poison pin to 'teach me a lesson.' As a free woman, of course, it would have been perfectly within her rights to defend herself against the unwelcomed, unbidden carnal advances of a man. Her convenient denial of submission, however, did not excuse her behavior. She was at that time, as I have illustrated, a slave. When I was free of the effects of her poison, I reminded her of the things she said, of the things she did which, incontrovertibly, supported by the notarized Writ of Enslavement, made her a slave.
I did not, at that time, choose to collar her. Arguably, it would have been a wise moment to do so, but it pleased me to keep her throat bare. For several days, I left her in the garments of a free woman. I kept her wrists shackled. She protested her treatment and I allowed it. Eventually, she was given something else to wear, something more appropriate to her station, and her wrists were unshackled. She held out hope, I think, that I might tire of the 'game' and free her, returning to her the possessions she once owned, the funds in her name on the Street of Coins and, most importantly, her freedom. As long as her throat remained bare, she convinced herself that this was a temporary situation.
She was wrong. It was never a temporary situation. When she wakes this morning and crawls to the mirror, her hands will go to her throat. She will pull at the collar locked securely on her neck. It is functional, the sort of collar I am fond of. Heavy, simple, and obdurate, it has a large ring welded at the front for the attachment of a leash or chain.
She hates me. I permit her to do so.
"Nero was corrupt," Martius opined. "He got what was coming to him.
"I won't argue the point," Callidorus concurred, "but it is troubling to have the mark used in that fashion."
"Gah. Fuck 'em," Martius shot back. "Let the Guardsmen worry over it, chase after shadows."
I walked into the small tavern, hidden in one of the meaner warrens of the Street of Brands District. The blonde slave, Noemi, not yet collared but fully imbonded, was at my side. The men grunted their acknowledgment of me as I sat around the table, but continued their conversation. They paid little attention to the blonde girl, which was indicative of the importance of this meeting.
"It is troubling that an Assassin would do something so ritualistic," Callidorus answered.
"Well it certainly wasn't one of the bald ones," Martius replied. "Unless they specified it was done that way."
"We cannot afford to let up," I interjected. "But we must be prudent in our activities."
"Prudent?!" Martius answered sharply. "Are we not reactionaries?"
"Martius, calm down," Callidorus answered. "There is no need to be rash."
"We must increase our activity!" Martius asserted.
