We don’t know where they came from and know even less of their motive. What I do know, is that I was sitting at home with my family, watching the fire burn on the hearth, and I heard a knock on the door. I got up to answer it, wondering who would come visiting on a rainy night like tonight. As I opened the door, a chill breeze blew past me, and made the fire sputter. It was dark outside, but shortly my eyes adjusted, and I could see two large figures, professionally armored, and carrying weapons with an air of dignity. They were both wearing the same guild cape, which I couldn’t quite make out as they were looking directly at me. Then they spoke to me.
“Good Evening Sir”
“Good evening” I replied
“You are probably wondering, ‘who are these riffraff’, come to call at this time of night in this weather. Well, I assure you we are no mere rabble. My companion and I are members of an organization known simply as Cryptic Revolution. We have recently defeated your lord through honorable subversion, and are now simply coming to have you acknowledge our new position in this territory.”
My first thoughts were not that this soldier was riffraff; he was too professional for that. However, his long introduction made me realize a change was in the wind. I decided to see what this Cryptic Revolution would require of me.
“Sir, pray tell… What kind of acknowledgment would you require of those within your sphere of power?”
“There are but three simple tasks you must perform to remain in our favor. First: You must swear to uphold our code of conduct. Second: you must relocate to a new territory within our border. Third: Your eldest child, upon reaching the age of 13 shall be required to attend the Cryptic Academy for potentials. At this time, the Academy’s location shall not be made known, but, at the appropriate age, one of our scholars shall come summon the child. Do you have any further questions?”
Quickly mulling over what the man had just said, I wondered where my family would be going, and also realized he had mentioned no tax. Quickly glancing at his partner, then back to him, I began asking questions.
“Where are we being relocated too? Is there no tax we must pay? I guess those are my largest questions, oh”, pointing to his partner, “Why doesn’t he talk?”
The man’s partner quickly replied,”She does not talk, because she feels no need to communicate with you at this time. Oh, there is a 5% tax, it’s less then your old lord demanded. Also, you are being moved to a more southerly location, and another village is being moved here, one known for its strong loyalty to our cause.”
I turned to look back at my wife; she had come up behind me during all our conversation. As I looked away, the door slammed behind me, blown completely shut by the wind. I quickly opened it again, but they were gone. I closed the door again, latching it against the wind and rain. I turned to my wife and asked her simply, “Ready for a new home?”
~From the journal of Majrois Pickot