Distraction

Undeniable addiction
Absolute predilection
An unkempt desire
Unchecked, unchained &
Tirelessly devoted
To the feast
Licking rape-hot thighs
Kissing sleep-worn eyes
Untenable, ostensible &

Purely driven to

Exhaustion

Repeal, Restitution, Responsibility

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INCREASES INSTITUTED IN THE MONTH OF SE'KARA 10,157 TO THE PROPERTIES OF THE PEOPLE OF AR AND SERVICES RENDERED WILL BE REPEALED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.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.

Prayer

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.

Chaining the Giant

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.

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.