“In a civilized world, where each person’s needs can be met without difficulty and where there are comforts in abundance, should it not follow that those resources be distributed among those who need them? If we do indeed live in a land of plenty, as we are so often told, should not everyone live in plenty?”

Stellaphrena’s words rang out in the silent lecture hall. The students seemed to vibrate with the intensity, their pens already scribbling away and their heads bobbing along.

Galier, once again without pen or parchment, could only watch and listen.

“But we can see that it is not so. Our purses are wrung dry with promises of food and shelter and when the last drop is squeezed out, we are left to rot and fester in the gutter…”

Her voice rose and fell with the practiced particularity of a trained orator, driving each point home with the brutal efficiency of a mallet driving a stake. With arms like hers, she would be equally as proficient at that.

“It is the duty, I say, of those of us who can spare the time, to ask why. Why must the Empress feast while the urchin goes hungry? Why must the groom work her fingers to the bone for the lord to have his steed pristine in time for the hunt? We are told, or we surmise from experience, that this is the simple truth. The way that things must be, because it is the way that they are in this civilization of ours…”

She paused, running her hidden gaze across the gathered students. They began to shift awkwardly. The nibs of their pens poised and ready to write, shaking with anticipation, but no words came.

Stellaphrena waited until the final reverberations of her voice died away, and then a moment longer. The hall was quiet, except for a nervous cough from the back and the constant drumming of rain on the roof. Outside the storm had begun in earnest, though it could almost be ignored when she spoke. She even drowned out the thunderclaps, making it seem as if the storm were far off and not barely kept at bay by the massive wooden shutters blocking the auditorium windows.

In the flickering light of lanterns, the silence stretched.

“We stop to ask why things are the way they are and we are given an answer that does not satisfy our hunger.” She nodded slowly, then waited for it to be reflected in her gathered pupils before continuing. “Then we must go deeper.”

Sweeping forward off the stage and up to the first row of benches, her simple, white dress flowing with her like a ghostly trail in the lantern light, she positioned herself at the mouth of the central aisle, looking up at the rising tiers of benches and students with a fiery gaze hardly hidden by her veil.

“What is civilization? Is it a city? A nation? An empire?” She paused again, looking expectantly at the students. Aside from a few mumbled, halfhearted replies, there was nothing to hear.

“If we cannot say what it is, then tell me, how can we know that these things are necessary parts of it. If we cannot know what civilization is, how can we be expected to know what it should be, what it should look like, what it should do?”

There were a few murmurs of assent from among the gathered students and Galier nodded along. What she said made sense, although it was not so groundbreaking as she made it seem. Ana, who had taken a seat next to Galier upon arriving at the hall muttered something to Tyche, who sat next to her, then wrote something down with the pen she had borrowed from the other woman.

“Then we must start there.” She said with a decisive nod.

Outside, the rain began to beat harder on the shutters, drowning out the nervous chatter of the students. Stellaphrena strode back to her stage, giving them time to mutter amongst themselves.

Everyone else was deep in conversation in groups of two or three, voices kept low but intense. Galier was left scratching his head. The question was an interesting puzzle, he supposed. It was difficult to say exactly what civilization was. But in the same vein, he could not say what distinguished a village from a town or a boulder from a rock, but he knew each one when he saw it. Was it not much the same for civilization?

After letting her pupils discuss for a while, Stellaphrena silenced them once again with a simple, sharp inhale. They knew immediately that she was about to speak again and quieted accordingly.

“I have asked this very question of many people before. Learned lords and ladies, beggars in the streets, they all give different answers. One might say ‘civilization is the city. A land worked by human hands and governed by human minds.’ Another might say that ‘civilization is the land claimed by human toil.’ The lines on a map or the treaties signed by the Empress. But I find that, when pressed, their answers all blend into one. Civilization is where humans work as one to create a stronger whole.

“A lion may pose a threat to you or I, but to all of us? A lion would not dare. Humanity’s power comes from our numbers. In concert, our strength compounds. This is the goal and impetus of civilization, I think.”

The benches were a sea of bobbing heads, alive with the scratching of pens.

In the very first row there was one student, nodding much more enthusiastically than the others. He had no pen or paper, like Galier. It made him stand out from the crowd, but it wasn’t the only thing.

His hands were planted on his knees and he leaned forward, almost standing. Those hands were heavily bandaged, only his fingers peeked over the white cloth. He didn’t even seem to notice that blood had begun to seep through in a few scattered patches.

Something about the man looked familiar, which was strange. His damp, dark hair hung loose, obscuring his face except for the very tip of his nose, which looked scratched and raw, like he had fallen face first into the street. More than once. His clothes were oddly clean and dry compared to the rest of him. He wore a simple white tunic tied at the waist over a pair of loose trousers. The clothes of a dock worker or another laborer. Someone who Galier had no reason to recognize.

Galier furrowed his brow and peered through the dim lantern light. Stellaphrena had started to speak again, responding to a question from a student, but Galier ignored it for the time being. Who was that? If he knew someone who followed Stellaphrena, his job of gaining her support would me a good deal easier. But who could it be?

Galier gave a start and nearly hopped out of his seat when he felt a sharp jab to his ribs. He turned to find Ana staring at him with wide eyes. She was pointed surreptitiously towards the front of the hall where Stellaphrena stood, hands on her hips, looking out over the crowd towards them.

“Sorry,” Ana whispered with a wince, then busied herself with her pen and parchment, very clearly not looking at Galier.

“Do you have an answer, lord Derran?” Stellaphrena called out across the hall, her mocking voice cutting through the dull roar of a thunderclap effortlessly.

A hot flush rose in Galier’s cheeks. He hadn’t heard the question. Heads turned towards him as the silence stretched.

“My apologies, I didn’t hear the question over the rain.” He said breathlessly, hoping that she would fall for the excuse.

Stellaphrena nodded as if it were reasonable to not hear her over the storm. As if she did not manage to overpower it with the slightest sound.

“I thought that perhaps you would have a different view. Many of us come from humble backgrounds, our perspective is clouded, as everyone’s is, but yours may be different. Do you agree with my findings?”

“I…” Galier began, another blush coloring his cheeks as more heads swiveled towards him at the mention of his parentage.

One of those heads belonged to the man on the front row with the wet, dark hair. Upon seeing the face, Galier was sure he recognized him. It was a shock to see that the man was Scythese of Sapho. He had never been the most put together, but being raised in a noble family, he had never looked quite so... lowly, in public. With his plain clothes and heavy bandaging, he would have looked like a brawler, if not for his slender frame. His eyes burned with intensity. Red rimmed and wide, they threatened to bore right though Galier’s chest.

“I agree, for the most part.” Galier said, swallowing hard to wet his suddenly dry mouth

What did she want from him? The conclusions she had drawn seemed to him to be rather straightforward. Did she expect him to balk at the idea of strength in numbers? As if he had not spent his youth learning just that by way of countless bloody battles. It was not as if, only by virtue of his birth, he had some alien perspective on the matter. But she waited, expectantly.

“In… Um, in my experience, someone has to lead in a group of any size. A battle is often lost when the commander dies.”

Stellaphrena nodded, thoughtfully tapping her lips with a finger.

“An interesting point.” She said, cutting through the murmurs of students, “What lord Derran says is largely true. A leaderless group does often tend towards self-destruction. Men and women will fight amongst themselves if given the smallest chance. It is only more true as the size of the group grows. But then, if leadership is necessary, how should the leader be chosen?”

She still looked directly at Galier. He could tell, even though her eyes were hidden behind her crimson veil, somehow.

“Well,” He started, somewhat confused as to why she was focusing on him so intently, “I would say that the leader should be whoever is most capable…”

“And were you often the most capable soldier?”

“Well, no, not always…”

How did she know that he had ever led soldiers?

“Then why was it your place to lead?”

“Because I had the training, I suppose…”

“And why did you have that training?”

Galier paused, drawing his eyebrows together in thought. Obviously he had been trained to lead because of his station as a lord. But it made sense that way. He had the time to spend on learning battlefield tactics and the skills needed to interpret maps, charts, and ledgers. Not to mention that a life spent directing servants and workers meant he was capable of commanding soldiers. If the task were given to many of the landsmen he had fought alongside, there would have been chaos. Most could not read at all, and of those who could, none could spare the time away from their farmsteads to study military strategy.

“By your silence, I would take a guess that you have begun to see the absurdity of it. And I do not fault you for being resistant to see. You have been told, the same as everyone else, that things are the way they are because they should be that way. You are left in the dark the same as a sailor or a farmer. Only you’ve been given a shield with which to protect yourself in the darkness. A shield that few have the privilege to bear.”

Galier nodded as Stellaphrena moved on to direct her attentions to some other student. The faces slowly turned away, leaving him as just another member of the crowd again, but he had a lot to think on.

She was right, after a fashion. She couldn’t be expected to know the intricacies of Galier’s life, but the broad strokes that she painted were true of most, if not all, nobles he had met in his time. By comparison, Galier appeared disadvantaged if anything. Turned over to a surrogate family that did not want him and sent to fight battles for a man who did not care for him. That was the worst a noble could possibly be given, yet it was still better than what the soldiers he had served with were allotted.

From time to time since moving to Maerin, Galier found himself thinking of the people he had served with in the past. Sailors and landsmen who he had only ever known in the context of pressed military service. He’d never given much mind to the lives they had lived before they had come to Derranhall to serve their liege lord. Around the cookfires at night, they would tell stories about families and trades left behind sometimes, but those stories were short and sour. When you were on campaign and risking your life day to day, thoughts of home could be dangerous as much as they could be a refuge. Sometimes more so.

For those soldiers, the risk had been real in a way that it never had for Galier. The opposing leaders would know who to capture for ransom and they would have no way of knowing that Galier was as unwanted by house Derran as any common landsman. He had taken the risk of a stray arrow or spear thrust, but he was worth more alive than dead and everyone knew it. And why was he so protected? Because of his parentage, nothing more. He had never been the most skilled soldier of those he commanded. Not once. He had been an adequate leader, but anyone with enough training could have done the same. The fact was that he had been given his command purely by virtue of his blood. And although it was obvious, he balked at it.

Looking around at the other students, Galier knew that they saw him as their enemy. As a tamed bear at best. To them he represented that unjustified power Stellaphrena was railing against. They only saw his relative wealth and were blind to the responsibility that came with it. Except for perhaps Stellaphrena herself and young Scythese as well, not one of these students truly knew what it meant to be nobility.

But even if they knew what it entailed, would not each and every student there accept that burden for the wealth and luxury that came with it? Even the most lowly of lords commanded more respect than the assorted workers who filled the auditorium.

The fact of the matter was, Galier was the odd one out. Scythese nodded most fervently of all when Stellaprena accused the aristocracy. But Galier needed them. He needed some sort of leverage if he was going to make it through to the other side of lord Kalagor’s rebellion. One way or another, he needed these people. They were primed to fight a power greater than themselves like few ever were. Idealists, dangerous in the extreme. And he did understand them, a little. If he had been given the life of a craftsman, he would not have been content. All the little things about noble life that he took for granted. The parties, the splendor, all of it. He would have never tasted it, and he did have a taste for it now. He could not deny that.

Galier brought his attention back to the lecture, his brow still furrowed and his hands twitching restlessly on his legs. It took no small degree of effort but he had a renewed eagerness to learn. Something that these people learned here was driving them to think the unthinkable and to wish for the impossible. Galier wanted to get a taste of that, more than anything. In that moment, he knew he needed to see what they saw, not only to convince them to fight alongside him, but because it was important. It had to be. Something that could spur so many to believe in the impossible had to be.

After the lecture had come to a close, while the other students were filing out into the pitiful remains of the storm, Galier remained in his seat. A handful of others stayed put as well. Most of them still finishing off their notes, and a few who appeared to just want to wait out the rest of the rain. Ana and Tyche stayed, talking in hushed tones with another young woman, all three of them scratching notations down with their pens.

Scythese stayed as well, slumped on his bench at the front of the hall, looking about as exhausted as Galier thought a man could look. He hadn’t taken a single note throughout the entire lecture, in fact he did not seem to have his customary writing box at all, but without Stellaphrena to draw out his fanatical attention, he sagged onto the bench. The poor lad didn’t look like he had the strength to walk home.

This was Galier’s chance. Scythese was going nowhere and Galier had already decided that the young new blood lord was his best target. He would be more sympathetic to Galier’s plight, or so Galier hoped.

Galier stood and waved a friendly goodbye to the three women who were still scratching away with their pens. Ana waved back with a smile, Tyche simply ignored him, and the third did not seem to even notice that he left. They were all absorbed in their conversation a moment later.

The remaining few students trickled out as Galier made his way down to where Scythese sat. By the time he got there, pushing past students walking slowly down the aisle, only two others still remained seated, aside from Ana and her friends.

Scythese was alone on his bench, even though another young man sat on the same one, a good ways down. Neither he nor Scythese acknowledged Galier as he approached.

“An informative lecture, wouldn’t you say?” Galier asked, mentally admonishing himself for his awkwardness, as he took a seat besides Scythese. “I dare say even better than the last one.

Scythese didn’t respond. He only stared dejectedly at the marble floor tiles. His bandages had become a little more stained during the lecture, but the bright crimson had faded to a duller brown-red as the blood dried. There were matching spots on the knees of his trousers as well. He must have had quite the fall in the storm. Galier could not help but wince in sympathy.

Up close, Scythese looked even worse for wear. Even his tan old blood skin looked pale in the watery light let in by the open door, and his eyes were sunken and dark. Whatever had happened to him had been more than a simple fall in the storm.

“I’m glad you came back.” Scythese said, his voice low and quiet.

Galier was surprised, he hardly knew Scythese, aside from polite small talk from the few banquets and parties that the young lord attended. He was not one for the pageantry that so much of the aristocracy loved, and Galier could see why, since he followed Stellaphrena so ardently.

Still, it was an odd thing to say to someone little more than a stranger.

“We’ll never achieve anything if we don’t work together you know.” Scythese continued, barely more than mumbling so Galier had to lean in to hear. “She doesn’t say it enough. Makes… people like us look like the enemy.” He shrugged with weak shoulders that shook until he let them drop.

“I… I agree,” Galier paused. Scythese was playing right into his plan. What he was saying was already so close to what Galier needed. All Galier would have to do was push him in the right direction. If Scythese agreed to support him, surely others would follow, only… Something wasn’t quite right.

Galier had never seen Scythese acting anything short of zealous when he spoke about Stellaphrena. To see him so worn and weary was a shock to say the least. Could he be losing faith? It was a hard thing to imagine. Maybe he really was ill, he certainly did not exactly look hale and healthy…

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Galier asked, placing a supporting hand on the lad’s back. Scythese was only a few years younger than him at the most but now especially, he looked like a lost boy.

“Thank you, but…” Scythese began, but he was cut off as Ana, Tyche, and their friend came down the aisle and stopped next to Galier and Scythese, still chattering amongst themselves.

Scythese plastered a smile onto his face, though Galier hardly thought it could fool anyone. Somehow, the others didn’t seem to notice.

“Waiting for the rain to stop, are we?” Tyche asked mockingly of Scythese who managed a pained chuckle in reply. He tried to stand, using Galier’s shoulder as leverage, and he managed to get to his feet. Barely. His grip was surprisingly strong though, despite how much he shook with the strain of standing.

“Just waiting for you to be done twittering.” He said, but despite the barb in his voice, it was friendly. A bit of good natured ribbing. Tyche didn’t seem to see it that way. She pursed her scarlet painted lips and tossed her head as she turned towards the door, her long, dark braid whipping around just inches from Scythese’s face. Ana and the other woman laughed and even Scythese’s rictus grin of a smile softened.

Galier decided the lot of them must be friends, they all trooped out of the room together, even Tyche settling back into the group. They left Galier feeling somewhat embarrassed, his cheeks flushing under his makeup. He should have known better than to think that Scythese had no friends amongst the other students. He should have known better than to think that he could get the lad alone and vulnerable.

The other man on the bench hopped up to follow too. He fit in well with the rest with old blood dark skin and darker, tightly curled hair, though he looked like he had seen some rougher days. A rough scar was visible over the collar of his tunic on his neck and he had the build of a fighter rather than a laborer. A guard or soldier of some sort, perhaps. Old blood nobles often brought their armsmen over with them from Phoenos. Regardless, he wore a ready smile.

As the group neared the doorway, Ana turned back and beckoned to Galier. Scythese turned around too. He was leaning heavily on Tyche’s shoulder, but looked to be in a much better mood now. He even looked less pale.

“Why don’t you come with us, lord Derran,” Scythese spat the honorific with no small amount of disgust but otherwise seemed sincere, “We’re going to find some food. You must be hungry.”

Galier practically leapt up from the bench to scurry on after them. If he could appeal to not only Scythese, but his friends as well… He might end up with enough people to make lord Kalagor actually let him be a part of his insurrection. The man was wary of Galier’s loyalty, as well he should be. He had forced Galier’s hand in effect, hardly giving him an alternative. But the Monarch was a danger to Galier too now, and to Jormand if he ever returned to Maerin. Galier didn’t know when he’d decided to throw his lot in with the rebellion, but he had now, he was ready to sow a little chaos, and these young men and women would be the ones to help him achieve that goal.

Outside, the storm still rattled on the edge of the sky, out across the sea and further inland too, leaving Maerin in an unstable stillness still smothered by low, dark clouds. It would break again soon.

Everyone huddled together outside the door, talking in low voices induced by the oppressive atmosphere.

“Nothing will be open, Anaxian” Tyche was saying in a lecturing tone. “We should just find some place to weather the storm.”

“It’s worth it to check at least,” The man whose name Galier did not know said defensively, “I’m hungry.” That must be Anaxian, a suitably old blood name for such a man.

The lot of them turned to Scythese, expectantly. He only shrugged in reply. Maybe he was not doing entirely better. Out in the dayling, his skin did look rather sallow, and he still looked to be unsteady on his feet.

Well, if they wanted some place to eat as well as be safe from the storm, Galier had just the place. They wouldn’t be able to leave before the storm ended either, which would give him plenty of time to plant the seeds he needed in their minds.

He broke into their argument hesitantly.

“I know a place.” he said and they all turned to him, all except for Scythese and Ana looked surprised to see him there.

They were not most pleased about the Captain’s Cat being owned by Galier, it probably smacked of nobility a little too much for them, but it was the only option any of them could give and when they turned to Scythese for a decision, he nodded, which was enough for them. So they set out to cross the city, hoping the rain did not return before they made it to their destination.

Their small group moved quickly, spurred on by the occasional cracks of lightning that savagely lit the streets. It was not a hospitable place to be and they were all eager to find shelter from it. They clustered together and walked as fast as they could. Tyche supported Scythese who limped behind the rest, but still faster than was strictly necessary. They all felt it. The storm would not wait for them.

The long streets stretched out before Galier as he led the group towards the harbor. The others kept close to him but peered around suspiciously, especially as they passed walled keeps and manors and expensive shops in the middle of the city. Ana looked somewhat in awe of the massive buildings and Scythese mostly sneered when he was not grimacing with pain. The others just looked afraid. Like the buildings they passed might just decide to come to life and attack them.

They did not pass anyone else on their way. The streets were even more empty now. Shutters were still bolted tight, as were doors, and there was nothing to be heard from inside. The city was still. It made Galier shiver with unease.

The Captain’s Cat was shuttered too, like every other building they passed, the door and windows barred, but when Galier knocked, the door was opened promptly by a greying woman in an apron dusted with flour and holding a large rolling pin on one hand.

Saphi arched a questioning eyebrow at Galier and his group. She was used to him bringing his friends back to the inn, but they usually wore silks and jewels, not common worker’s garb. But she did not question him, thankfully. Instead she waved them all in and began herding them towards a table amidst admonishments about their lack of preparedness for the weather. Everyone except for Ana received one. Her straw hat was apparently enough preparedness for Saphi. If only she’d seen Ana earlier, dripping wet and splashing through puddles that morning.

After that, Saphi bustled off towards the kitchen, but she did not leave without shaking a warning finger at them all and telling them in no uncertain terms that they were not to leave until the rain let up entirely. Everyone, even proud Tyche, nodded and murmured that they would not.

Usually Galier would have been annoyed with Saphi’s attitude. It did not look good for a nobleman to be ordered about by those who served him, but in his present company, it might do some good. He might have imagined it, but the others seemed to be looking at him with a little less suspicion.

Soon, everyone was chatting away and a server came out with a tray of tankards for the table. She gave Galier a questioning look too. Was it really so strange that he might associate with commoners?

He had to remind himself that yes, it was strange. Nobles did not mix much with anyone else in Maerin. Back in Derranhall, there had been less of a divide and what little he had built up and been cast down again by Lana, but to everyone else it bordered on scandal. At least the server had the good sense not to say anything. Galier watched her back to the kitchen, then let himself relax a little. He would need to build a sympathetic facade to win the loyalty of Ana, Scythese, and their friends.

Not long later, another server came by, bearing a dish of roasted birds and vegetables which earned a cheer from Anaxian, who promptly grabbed one bird and began to tear into it immediately.

The others laughed at his enthusiasm, but hardly waited any longer before reaching for some food themselves. All except for Scythese, who simply looked at the food, his lips twisted into a frown. But eventually he too ate, grudgingly and looking sick, but he did.

Galier had work to do now, but appealing to people was what he did best, the hardest part was over. He could not help but feel proud of himself.