30th Cylus, 717
12th Break
Of all the professions the Mortalborn could imagine in his life, it surprised him quite a lot to have now become a shepherd. Whenever he thought about such employment, he took into consideration his appetite problems, and always concluded whatever animals he was to protect he’d devour. However, this was no longer, apparently, and thus a great sense of vague satisfaction flooded the otherwise empty heart of the teacher. Of course, his job description was somewhat different than that of a shepherd, yet his responsibilities were quite similar. Guide unintelligent creatures, teach them to do some things, use them for what they are worth, and repeat until satisfied. The simplicity of the world was astonishing sometimes.
“Come on, children!” announced the teacher, clapping his hands for his herd. “We don’t want to be late!”
“Yes, mister Ynush!” replied some of them, jumping, laughing and playing as loudly as children often did.
Despite their status as lesser beings, Paplo felt some affection for these little orphans; or at least, he pretended to feel it. Sometimes, he sympathized with them as he thought of their backstory. Orphaned by war, disease, or life itself, these children had nobody to guide them in life. Were it not for Etzos, whenever these youths grew up, they would have no purpose. Thinking about it, Paplo imagined that being a closed-minded soldier was the best future these children could ever receive. Their other future would lead to prostitution, and most likely into Kovic’s maws if he was feeling like a night stroll.
“Let’s turn here, class,” he said as his herd reached the Garrison Alley ramp, almost at their destination. The children advanced carefully, but loudly, to the point of drawing the eyes of many Marks – name given to regular foot soldiers.
The children flooded the Mark’s Training Ward’s entrance soon after, to the point of blocking the exit for the soldiers that wished to exit the training facilities. This was corrected by Paplo quite quickly, shushing and micromanaging their distribution. Afterwards, Paplo would head towards the nearest Mark.
“Good morning,” he’d say with his soft and modulated voice. “Could you please notify Mastermark Lodred that we’ve arrived?”
“Who’s arrived?” asked the soldier, who wondered if he wanted to sip from his water skin; or liquor skin, in his case.
“Oh, we’re from the Prime Sanitarium’s temporary classes. We’re having a fieldtrip today,” replied Paplo.
The Mark turned around and disappeared somewhere within the Ward, to which Paplo continued managing his students, mostly by separating those that went along with eachother to avoid chatter. He wondered then if these orphans were sexually active already; they were eight, after all. Despite his past not being quite clear to him, even Paplo guessed he was sexually active at, at least, half of their age.
“Attention!” announced a voice belonging to a tall and extremely muscular individual, blessed with a mighty moustache and a stiff squared face. He was addressing the children, despite it being somewhat hard to guess. “Stand firm, soldiers!”
The children obeyed, yet the term of standing firm escaped them. Most of them simply stared up towards the Mastermark, or perhaps towards the moustache. The second was more likely. Paplo stared too, almost in love with the individual. The size of his arms, the image of the thick torso below the chainmail and the girth of his legs were enough to seduce him; Paplo wanted to eat him.
“My, what fierce warriors I see!” said the Mastermark. “The Immortals better pack up and leave before they come across you. Let me hear you roar!”
After the Mastermark growled as an example, the whole group of children followed suit, roaring like cats even if they barely qualified as mice. Paplo growled too, amused.
“That’s what I call a battle-roar! Good morning, everyone. I’m Mastermark Lodred, and today I’ll initiate you into the noble art of warfare. Are you all ready?”
General uproar and excitement communicated a clear yes.
“Good! Before we get into combat, I must see if your teacher,” Brotton looked towards Paplo, “has taught you about Etzos. Now, who does Etzos hate?”
“The Immortals and their mindless puppets!” replied the children, in unison. Their education was quite correct.
“Correct! And what do we do if we discover one of their puppets?”
“Report them to the guard!”
“Very good!” Lodred chuckled. “Etzos is the City of Stones, but also of freedom, and we will not allow those cunning Immortals, or their puppets, to compromise our way of life. That is why citizen cooperation is so important; we all work, together, for the betterment of our children’s future. In this case, for your future. I see your teacher has taught you well.”
The formality was appreciated by Paplo, who simply smirked and nodded in a thankful manner.
“Now, you must all be aware that something else is threatening the Etzori way of life. Can someone tell me what that is?”
“Rhakros!” replied the students. Their tone was clearly angrier; most of them were orphaned in the conflict with the southern city.
“Rhakros and their treacherous spies. What does a good citizen do in times like these?”
“Keep our eyes open!”
“Keep our eyes open, indeed. And what do we do if we see something suspicious?”
“We report it to the city guard!”
“Excellent,” replied the Mastermark
.
Paplo remained on the side, watching and listening to the lesson. He would’ve liked to have been the one credited with the merit of his student’s education, but it was not his work; an Etzori employee came by the Sanitarium’s hallway every so often, preaching their beliefs to the gullible students and putting those words and ideals into their minds – and perhaps into Paplo’s mind, too.
If he only knew what an Immortal was, or what Rhakros looked like, he would have less trouble understanding it all. All in due time, perhaps.
12th Break
Of all the professions the Mortalborn could imagine in his life, it surprised him quite a lot to have now become a shepherd. Whenever he thought about such employment, he took into consideration his appetite problems, and always concluded whatever animals he was to protect he’d devour. However, this was no longer, apparently, and thus a great sense of vague satisfaction flooded the otherwise empty heart of the teacher. Of course, his job description was somewhat different than that of a shepherd, yet his responsibilities were quite similar. Guide unintelligent creatures, teach them to do some things, use them for what they are worth, and repeat until satisfied. The simplicity of the world was astonishing sometimes.
“Come on, children!” announced the teacher, clapping his hands for his herd. “We don’t want to be late!”
“Yes, mister Ynush!” replied some of them, jumping, laughing and playing as loudly as children often did.
Despite their status as lesser beings, Paplo felt some affection for these little orphans; or at least, he pretended to feel it. Sometimes, he sympathized with them as he thought of their backstory. Orphaned by war, disease, or life itself, these children had nobody to guide them in life. Were it not for Etzos, whenever these youths grew up, they would have no purpose. Thinking about it, Paplo imagined that being a closed-minded soldier was the best future these children could ever receive. Their other future would lead to prostitution, and most likely into Kovic’s maws if he was feeling like a night stroll.
“Let’s turn here, class,” he said as his herd reached the Garrison Alley ramp, almost at their destination. The children advanced carefully, but loudly, to the point of drawing the eyes of many Marks – name given to regular foot soldiers.
The children flooded the Mark’s Training Ward’s entrance soon after, to the point of blocking the exit for the soldiers that wished to exit the training facilities. This was corrected by Paplo quite quickly, shushing and micromanaging their distribution. Afterwards, Paplo would head towards the nearest Mark.
“Good morning,” he’d say with his soft and modulated voice. “Could you please notify Mastermark Lodred that we’ve arrived?”
“Who’s arrived?” asked the soldier, who wondered if he wanted to sip from his water skin; or liquor skin, in his case.
“Oh, we’re from the Prime Sanitarium’s temporary classes. We’re having a fieldtrip today,” replied Paplo.
The Mark turned around and disappeared somewhere within the Ward, to which Paplo continued managing his students, mostly by separating those that went along with eachother to avoid chatter. He wondered then if these orphans were sexually active already; they were eight, after all. Despite his past not being quite clear to him, even Paplo guessed he was sexually active at, at least, half of their age.
“Attention!” announced a voice belonging to a tall and extremely muscular individual, blessed with a mighty moustache and a stiff squared face. He was addressing the children, despite it being somewhat hard to guess. “Stand firm, soldiers!”
The children obeyed, yet the term of standing firm escaped them. Most of them simply stared up towards the Mastermark, or perhaps towards the moustache. The second was more likely. Paplo stared too, almost in love with the individual. The size of his arms, the image of the thick torso below the chainmail and the girth of his legs were enough to seduce him; Paplo wanted to eat him.
“My, what fierce warriors I see!” said the Mastermark. “The Immortals better pack up and leave before they come across you. Let me hear you roar!”
After the Mastermark growled as an example, the whole group of children followed suit, roaring like cats even if they barely qualified as mice. Paplo growled too, amused.
“That’s what I call a battle-roar! Good morning, everyone. I’m Mastermark Lodred, and today I’ll initiate you into the noble art of warfare. Are you all ready?”
General uproar and excitement communicated a clear yes.
“Good! Before we get into combat, I must see if your teacher,” Brotton looked towards Paplo, “has taught you about Etzos. Now, who does Etzos hate?”
“The Immortals and their mindless puppets!” replied the children, in unison. Their education was quite correct.
“Correct! And what do we do if we discover one of their puppets?”
“Report them to the guard!”
“Very good!” Lodred chuckled. “Etzos is the City of Stones, but also of freedom, and we will not allow those cunning Immortals, or their puppets, to compromise our way of life. That is why citizen cooperation is so important; we all work, together, for the betterment of our children’s future. In this case, for your future. I see your teacher has taught you well.”
The formality was appreciated by Paplo, who simply smirked and nodded in a thankful manner.
“Now, you must all be aware that something else is threatening the Etzori way of life. Can someone tell me what that is?”
“Rhakros!” replied the students. Their tone was clearly angrier; most of them were orphaned in the conflict with the southern city.
“Rhakros and their treacherous spies. What does a good citizen do in times like these?”
“Keep our eyes open!”
“Keep our eyes open, indeed. And what do we do if we see something suspicious?”
“We report it to the city guard!”
“Excellent,” replied the Mastermark
.
Paplo remained on the side, watching and listening to the lesson. He would’ve liked to have been the one credited with the merit of his student’s education, but it was not his work; an Etzori employee came by the Sanitarium’s hallway every so often, preaching their beliefs to the gullible students and putting those words and ideals into their minds – and perhaps into Paplo’s mind, too.
If he only knew what an Immortal was, or what Rhakros looked like, he would have less trouble understanding it all. All in due time, perhaps.
Enjoy the rewards.