[Mkguild] Life V: Know Your Place - A

Jack Moore jackthefrilledlizard at gmail.com
Sun Nov 12 03:44:44 UTC 2017


AN: I'm sending this again even though I have once, two months ago. I took
a break in order to write half of this story out. I figured after giving
myself an 80,000 word head start I could start posting again without
running out of chapters. We'll see. I also edited this chapter, I wasn't
thrilled.

Life V: Know Your Place - A

I returned to Metamor after the disaster that was my final exam with one
goal in mind; safety. I knew this would be one place I could go to and
never be in danger from Umaro and Mirna. And when I had returned I
discovered something.
I wanted to serve Metamor.
I don’t know when that happened. I don’t really know what made it happen.
But I wanted to serve Metamor to the best of my abilities. Without exposing
my talents of course. So the question was how do I serve?
Not the Knights obviously, not being trained in any kind of combat. Not in
the Long Scouts, who I don’t think existed at the time. I’m sure if I had
told them about my type of magic they’d have found a place to stick me. But
as I said I couldn’t tell them. Most likely Andwyn’s crusty hands would
have been directing me as soon as he discovered I could read minds.
So I found the Watch. Understaffed, underappreciated and underfunded even
when I joined it. The Watch had been around for two-hundred years already
and probably had a lot of pride in itself when it started. By the time I
joined the Watch it had been drained of all its dignity and hope.
What was left was a skeleton of an organization which was the laughing
stock of the whole Keep. Payments are slow, uniforms are old and we don’t
have a training ground or reliable supply of irons.
But here’s the strange thing when you cut an organization to the bone.
Those who are left begin taking a strange kind of pride in it. You’ll see
the Knights as the Metamor pretty-boys, the Long Scouts as show offs while
knowing the Watch does the real work.
You’re not appreciated and most people don’t know you exist. So the joy you
get is from what little justice you can dole out, the order you can bring
to the Keep. Every time you arrest a shaking, screaming Alligator who is
three times your size, the feeling is indescribable. You’re making the Keep
a little safer, you’re bringing a little more dignity back to the Watch.
That’s how it feels every day on the Watch, that split between misery and
optimism. Your goal is clear, an ordered Keep and you will make it happen.
And you’ll be spit on and yelled at the whole time.
The Watch experience creates a kinship among its many Wardens. And beyond
that it creates an instinctive reaction to criticism, defend the Watch. It
may be a withered, barely living organism but we Wardens are keeping it
alive.
So imagine that you are me. You’ve worked for years in the Watch, with the
long term goal of ascending to Justicar/Senchel and rewriting the poorly
defined law codes. Then one day you read the mind of an arrogant knight and
discover the Watch may lose its charter and be absorbed into the Metamor
Keep machine.
What do you do?
In my case you rush into your Lieutenant’s office in a fugue state, doing
it for the second time in two days. With the benefit of hindsight I can say
my Lieutenant’s office needed a latch. I made a point of that
when...actually not relevant.
Triche’s fur bristled at my question. He licked his long lips and paused.
Twice he looked like he was going to say something and then paused again.
He’s not talking but I will.
Triche’s office has always been a brown wooden box, to match our brown
wooden box of a Watch House. It had a small fireplace behind Triche’s desk,
always making me wonder if he ever worried his fur would catch on fire. It
had one small window which faced a courtyard that didn’t get near enough
light. And it was poorly ventilated, so even on the best of days it felt
stuffy.

Today it was warmed by a roaring fire, or as roaring as you could do. Light
came from the candle on Triche’s desk and the two mounted on the wall. At
all times of day the room was bathed in shadow, illuminated only by small
halos, and thick with smoke. In truth I usually felt comfortable in there,
perhaps due to the warmth. Today though I felt nothing but panic.
“Sir we can’t lose our charter,” I said, “Doing so is what gives us the
ability to dispense justice. It gives us the right to exist! Without it
we’ll be dissolved! We are the order in this city! How can the Duke do this
to us?” My tail was thumping a mile minute, to the point my Lieutenant’s
desk was vibrating. He snorted.
“Calm yourself Corproal” Triche said. “And control your tail.” I grabbed it
in my hand. Triche’s eyes locked with mine.. “How did you even come about
this news?” Oh boy.
“I heard it from,” I swallowed, “From Sir Moss. He mentioned it...by
accident sir. Look how I heard doesn’t matter, what matters is I heard it.
Is it true?” Triche leaned back in his chair. He stared intently at his
thin, pink fingers for a bit.
“It’s true that there has been discussion to revoke the charter of the
Watch.” He said. “But just discussion, not action Corporal. Before we
continue, sit down.” The tone of his voice caught me off guard. Not loud or
angry, but harder than steel. I slipped into the chair in front of his
desk, tail wrapped around me.
The sailfin made it impossible to slip my tail into most tail holes.
I could only see part of my Lieutenant’s face, but I only needed to see
part. Triche’s black eyes had turned to ice and the cold was penetrating my
core. I began to tremble.
“I understand you are upset Corporal. If I was given this news I would be
to. But I am your superior. The Watch is viewed as a pit with no respect
for hierarchy, and by rushing into my office yelling you validated those
views.” Triceh said. My heart sank.

“I’m sorry sir.” I said.

“I appreciate that Janelle, but you do that frequently.” Triche said. His
pink lips lifted slightly when he spoke, showing fang. “Knock before
entering and adress me by title. Do not address me by ranting. Understood?”
My lieutenant seemed completely clam, but I could feel his anger just under
the surface.
“Yes sir.” I said. Triche nodded.
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