Retribution, Not Rivalry

Much like the arsons early in the year, the assassination of Administration and greed-merchants alike continues unchecked. Scarcely a hand goes by without another of my magisterial peers or some shamelessly wealthy fop being cut down. The latest were displayed publically, a disturbing notion if it is to continue. Deserved or no, people have a way of becoming desensitized to such spectacles. Eventually, the longer they must pay an unjust tax, they will need more to still their wrath. If the Initiates do not stir them to violence, the pot may boil over all on its own, cutting a swath in every direction until just one is left. I struggle with the idea of a Ubar that is not Marlenus, but a Ubar is needed. It is difficult to be the first in a city, moreso in the finest city of our world. Who would ascend such a throne? Who could bring together all factions, summarily quieting the voice of the White and the influence of the power-brokers? Perhaps the killing will not stop until every stone in the Plaza of the Central Cylinder is soaked in the blood of those culpable. They are not all bad men. It is my hope that the ones lining the pockets of Assassins are discriminate.

"These things tend to be circular," I said to one of my constituents, a vendor whose food I favor in the Great Square.

"Indeed," he quipped. "The last time around it came full circle and bit you in the ass."

His comment was crude, referring to the day I was brought down by a Killer's bolt not a handful of feet from the spot we now stood, but his observation was astute. I did not gainsay him. When your peers are falling one by one around you, it is an easy thing to imagine your turn is inevitable. This is my city, however. I do not fear them. It is my hope this is the justice of retribution and not rivalry. To replace the vacated filth with ones dirtier still would be...heartbreaking.