The Will of the Many

“What about Tolverium? Or Sena Corlisis?”

The decision may have been made by the few, Diago, but it’s the Will of the many that killed your family.”

“Wait. I need to know. If this works. If… somehow in the future, the Hierarchy really does collapse in on itself.” I stare down over the fires. “Are you going to destroy the Aurora Columnae?”
For the first time, Relucia looks surprised.
“I don’t even know if that’s possible,” she says gently. Like a parent explaining a simple concept to a slow child. “And only the Princeps know where they all are. So… no. We’ll wait for the right moment, wait until the Hierarchy is ready to crumble, and then strike. Remove our oppressors. Start again.”
My fists clench. It’s the answer I expected.
“That’s the problem with people, though, isn’t it? They always think that other people are the problem.” Quiet. Angry. “You want to remove the Princeps? The senators? You’ll just become them, sooner or later. If all you’re trying to do is change who’s in control, then you don’t really want to change anything.” I finish in a forceful, low growl. Letting her hear my disgust.

There are those who see what should be, and complain that they do not get their due. And then there are those who see what is, and figure out how to use it to their advantage. Or at the least, overcome it.”

In trying to become God, they created Him

Victims can still be enemies.”

Hate is its own violence, my prince. Your only choice is whether to let it hurt them, or you.”

CHAIN YOUR ANGER IN THE dark, my mother used to tell me, and it will only thrive.

he retrieves my pay from the Will-secured box on the far wall. Copper triangles, each one etched with eight parallel lines. I get six for my work today. The other nine that Hrolf tucks away were meant to pay for my time tonight, but instead go toward his tolerance of my absence.

The metal jingles, a comforting weight in my pocket, as I move to the heavy stone door. I don’t offer any words of thanks for his concern. Part of me wants to.

“Offer’s still there, Vis,” says Hrolf, watching me. His eyes are suddenly sad, though he tries to hide it. “I don’t mind changing our terms if you want to stay, help awhile longer.”

“You don’t need me here.” I collect my threadbare cloak, shrug it on.

“The proconsul doesn’t know that. Your matron doesn’t know that. And it’s not as if the coin isn’t already paid.”

“Thanks, but no. It’s yours.” Better his than the matron’s, anyway. I assess the Septimus, looking for any sign that he’s thinking of backing out of our deal. That’s not what this is about, though. The worried crinkle around Hrolf’s eyes gives him away.

“Less bruises if you stay here,” he observes, confirming it.

“Better conversation, too.”