A warning ignored is a world already lost
Orudaran history was marked by recurring wars. Every few centuries, unrest grew into conflicts larger and more destructive than those before, some engulfing the entire continent.
In the past two centuries, Orudara developed into a society of classes and castes based on opportunity for wealth and education. The burden of work in Orudara was heaviest for those having the fewest resources and opportunities, and least for those with the greatest wealth and privilege.
The Information Guild was the predominant intelligence gathering and news-spreading organization in Orudara. Its operatives were respected and feared for their professional skills by most, thanked by many for the critical information they shared, and mocked by some for intruding into affairs that are none of their concern and spreading gossip across the continent. The Guild had long monitored unrest among the workers and servants, warning Orudara‘s governments that the class system would ultimately destroy the society it supported. Recently, Guild operatives discovered an organized movement of the disaffected. Servants and workers had been fleeing the cities and villages to rally points across the continent. Few recognized the importance of those disappearances.
Messo had reviewed the reports. He saw the pattern. It was subtle but recognizable. The Guild taught him that the future revealed itself in the patterns of history. His experience taught him not to ignore them.
A storm of epic proportions was rising in Orudara. It’s people weren’t ready. He knew he had to act, but as a journeyman in his Guild, he needed his master’s approval. Despite the unlikelihood of success, he had to enter the fight.
“Sir, the signs are all there,” Messo said to his Guild master, his eyes glittering with nervous intensity.
The meeting chamber felt colder than usual. The chill came not just from the stone, but from the masters themselves. He stared at the floor, out of respect for his masters, awaiting permission to continue.
“Go on,” the master said.
“You have seen the evidence. Workers and servants are disappearing from the cities, and the dissident army grows,” Messo continued. “At their current rate of growth, in less than five years, they will be able to overwhelm the Orudaran defenses.”
“I know you are often right,” his Guild master responded, “but the council believes you have misread the data. We have seen the reports and agree that the unrest is growing. This movement, however, is an inconsequential disturbance in Orudara’s history. It will exhaust itself just as others have before it. We order you to set this aside.”
Let it go? The words struck Messo with the cold weight of a barred door. Previous uprisings had devastated the continent, but none had grown nearly as fast or large as this one. Why would they dismiss such a threat? His resolve hardened. If the Guild refused to act, he would move alone, even at the cost of his position.
“As you wish,” he said, bowing before withdrawing.
He left the chamber with careful dignity. As soon as the door closed behind him, however, the anger he had been suppressing broke free.
“Damned fools!” Messo exclaimed under his breath.
He paused, considering his options.
“I’m no one,” Messo whispered. “I have no influence, no authority, and no resources. How can I get anyone to listen to me?”
It was clear. He needed time and an ally. Only one person in Setreed possessed the courage and resources to defy his Guild. Catenum, master of the Pirate Guild, had a reputation for rebelliousness. Turning to him was a gamble. Messo could walk away from the encounter wearing weights at the bottom of the river.
That evening Messo left the Guild house with his cloak pulled close, walking in street clothes. The air of Setreed felt tight with unrest. Others sensed a storm was brewing. Passing conversations carried ordinary remarks, yet some voices dropped to whispers.
He caught fragments containing “rebellion,” “fire,” and “blood.” A name, “Telimicus,” was repeated frequently in awe and in fear. Messo suspected he now knew the name of the leader of the rising tide. Why had that name not been in his reports? The uprising was closer than he had predicted.
He reached his destination and struck the oak door with the heavy brass skull knocker.
The door opened to a narrow slit.
“Who desires entrance?” a voice asked.
“I, Messo, journeyman of the Information Guild. I have urgent business with Catenum, master of your guild.”
“What is the nature of your business?”
“Life and survival.”
“All business here is about survival,” the man retorted.
“Please. My business is about our survival. All of ours.”
The door closed. Time passed slowly. He heard the sounds of revelry from within and thought, perhaps, that he had become the butt of some pirate joke.
Messo was about to turn and walk away when, at last, the door opened fully. The man standing in the antechamber was broad shouldered and a full head and a half taller than Messo. Catenum stood not as a man summoned. He clearly hadn’t hurried. He had made him wait. He now stood there like a lion at the edge of its hunting grounds. His eyes locked onto Messo’s and held them.
“You know who I am?” Catenum asked.
Messo nodded.
“I came here because of who you are.,” Messo said.
“I have heard rumors of your talents,” Catenum said. “Don’t disappoint me. Come in so we may speak of life and survival.”
Their conversation was brief. Messo shared the information his Guild had forbidden him to reveal, along with the fragments he had overheard on his way there.
“My masters have forbidden me to pursue this topic,” Messo concluded. “But my conscience prevents me from giving up. Therefore, I seek your counsel and support.”
“Yes,” Catenum said after a long breath, his shoulders sinking. “I understand your dilemma. I too have heard of Telimicus. His silver tongue is drawing many followers. I fear he is the harbinger of our doom. Why do you think your Guild rejected your conclusion? There’s more behind their dismissal than I can yet see.”
“I don’t know why,” Messo said, his voice unsteady. “They must have had reasons they chose not to share. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to act. My knowledge and my tongue are my only resources. I need your help.”
“What makes you think my Guild would help?” Catenum’s laugh feigned contempt. “You ask much of men who rape, kill, plunder, and steal for a living.”
“I’m not asking your Guild,” Messo said firmly. “I’m asking you. You are much more than a pirate. You’re a planner and a survivor. You know your people cannot survive when there are no more towns to plunder. If we can save enough people, perhaps we can rebuild together.”
“No, you’re right. I cannot survive with pirates alone. I will help you save those who choose to escape. My Guild obligations will permit me to do no more,” Catenum responded, raising himself to his full stature. “I have a hidden base at a remote bay. I will prepare a way to flee. If you can bring the people there, I will keep them safe.”
“Thank you,” Messo said, his composure finally breaking. “I will begin recruiting people at once. Where must they go to find the safety you offer?”
“They must come here and speak its name.”
“And what name is that,” Messo asked.
Messo nodded. After extending his hand in thanks, he stepped into the night, chilled but steadied by the knowledge that he had found his ally and that some Orudarans might yet survive the coming war.
Which Record Will You Examine Next?
