“Do you want to see Halgen regain its glory?” Jordan asked, raising his hands. His grey cloak hung on his tall frame like he was a scarecrow. “Or do you want to see it crumble under the hands of King Baltha?”
There was a murmur in the crowd before Jordan continued. The hall where fellowship was held was not big, more of a basement, and the people were squeezed in to make room for all to catch a glimpse of the speaker. A ring of torches flickered on the walls.
“We were once the richest and safest nation in the world. All lived in plenty. The older among us will remember those days where our children could play in the street, and we sat back unafraid that they would be kidnapped or mugged. Before, production could barely keep up with the trade demand. When is the last time you’ve heard of a trade deal—it has been years!”
Jordan enjoyed seeing his words affecting the people. There was tension in the room that hadn’t been there before, and their eyes were fixed on him as if he was all that existed.
“What does King Baltha do when our production is failing? He raises our tithes...raises them...acting like he deserves our well-earned crowns. What is he a god-send?”
The crowd was getting rowdy. A few men stood, shaking their fists. Arthur was in the back row, barely a man, yelling obscenities at the absent king.
He had heard of the Grey from Cassondra. “You’ll love the atmosphere,” she had said, sitting with him on the airship docks half a year ago. They had a perfect view of the city from up here. The long cobble streets were out of focus and the few people left in the market at dusk were ants. “Instead of sitting around and watching their country waste away, they’re taking their destiny into their own hands. They’re actually doing something about it!”
They spent so many hours up here, Cassondra leading, Arthur trailing behind. Cassondra loved watching the airships float lazily above the city, their blue and yellow balloons inflated to the maximum: they looked as if a pinprick would send them spiraling...but they must be stronger than that. She forgot Arthur was there as she spoke of the sky, how it was far more expansive than the sea could wish to be; how true sailors clung to the air, and how one day she would own her own airship. Arthur had sat through all her rantings, through all her poetic digressions, through all her almost-too-childish dreamings for the sole reason of getting in her pants. It sounded worse than it was. He figured he was in his 20’s. There was no need for grand social movements or political involvement. That’s for old folks, when the body stops working. He wanted to live his hedonic lifestyle in peace. He wanted to have fun...and fun for him meant sex.
So, in the name of the conquest, he started going to group meetings—fellowship, they called it. It all seemed like a cult the first time: the matching grey cloaks, the code names, the chanting. They called him Atla for Oa’s sake. What is that even supposed to mean? But through it all Cass looked unphased so he had to keep his cool. He couldn’t spout off about her little club, no matter how much he wanted to.
After a few meetings, it started growing on him. He looked forward to fellowship every week. It was the people there that did it for him. They always welcomed him with smiling faces, always greeted him by name, even if in code. The fellowship would end with whatever the community-designated chefs would whip up—usually meat of some kind: smoked pork or brisket, accompanied with sweet ale. There would be warm laughter, and perhaps it was the ale, but Arthur had a sense the room would swell. He wished he could freeze time at moments like this: when worry simply stopped and he felt whole. At times like this, he would grab Cass and bring her close to him, and he could read her raw acceptance.
Arthur finally got her home after months of hard work. It was summer and it was hot. He escorted her into his room, small...but all he could afford. There, they sat on the single bed, creaking. They were both a little tipsy from the ale and the scent of each other so their words were slurred.
“I feel so relaxed,” Cass said, laying back on the bed, her feet on the floor, her eyes ceilingward.
Arthur mirrored her, laying the same. “Those meetings always leave me so hopeful, like I could conquer the world.” Their eyes caught each other’s, he held her gaze for longer than needed. He had learned that trick a while back: girls loved it when you looked them in the eyes.
The crickets were whirring outside and a light rain ticked on the roof, but none of that mattered to Arthur who had his eyes on the prize. She was laying next to him, soft and comfortable, he would not get a better chance than this.
“I hope Jordan decides to make a move on the cap—”
He leaned over and kissed her lips, which were rigid at first...but gradually gave in. His hand tilted her chin for a better angle. “The way he kissed me,” Cass would later disclose to her friends, “was like a starving dog.” She was a dead deer and he couldn’t get enough of her.
It was obvious he wanted to go further. His roaming hands and the tiny thrusts on her hip spelled it out. The pressure increased, harder and harder. And then he was on top of her, sliding his cool hand under her shirt.
Arthur sat up, ripped off his shirt, and was undoing his pants when she stopped him. “Not yet,” she said, pulling him back down on top of her.
Not yet, he thought, what was that supposed to mean? Did she want it later tonight, or did this mean she didn’t want it at all? He considered both options. Did she not trust him, was that the problem? Not yet? Without context, that statement has no meaning, but she never provided any. How long did she intend to make him wait? It was almost like she didn’t know, like she hadn’t considered this far in advance.
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While he was thinking, he was neither thrusting nor kissing her, and his body was dead weight, a lifeless gunny sack. He slid off her and turned on his back, staring with blank eyes at the ceiling. The rain pounded now, making the room a cage.
“I’m sorry,” Cass whispered.
“It’s fine,” he replied flatly, his eyes locked on the patterned ceiling. It was not fine, and he wanted her to feel regret at not having made love to him, so he never turned to her.
They fell asleep as they were.
Things were weird between them for the next few days. Distant would be a pretty good description. In fact, Arthur avoided her. He didn’t need this stress in his life. He didn’t need this girl. What she was doing was stringing him along, making him sit, making him wait. Cass must’ve thought he was some dog she could leash up and bring with her. He was tired of it all.
Even at the next fellowship, he avoided her at all costs. She could ruin their relationship, but she couldn’t ruin the Grey for him too. Walking in, he saw she had saved him a seat near the front and was looking around expectantly. He decided to slide in the back row where he could escape at a moment’s notice. Throughout the meeting, his eyes kept glancing at her red, curly hair, shoulder-length. He kept waiting for her to turn around and survey the hall. If she could pick out his face among the sea of heads then he thought he might give her a smile.
Wait, Arthur stopped himself. He was supposed to be angry with her...but he wasn’t. Cass hadn’t given him what he wanted, so why all of a sudden did he have the urge to sit next to her? Why did he want to see her face?
Some guy slid into the row where Cass sat. Tall with a full head of brown hair. The guy appeared to motion at the empty seat. He was looking mighty friendly with her. Arthur could see a smile widen on the half of Cass’s face as she looked up at the man.
She let him sit down, she actually let him. And now she was talking with this random guy.
He fumed in the back as he could just imagine what they were talking about, what they were laughing about. Finally, he decided it wasn’t good to watch this so he left.
He stalked out into the night, where the cobblestone streets reflected the moonlight. Wandering, he made his way to the skydocks. Climbing the many stairs felt good. Some houses still had candles flickering in the window, but most were dark. He imagined a husband and a wife spooning in bed, their children tucked away in the next room. For some reason the wife’s face was Cassondra’s and the husband’s was the face of that guy that had stolen his seat. Why should he envy them? Once he settled down with a girl, he would be trapped for all eternity. Arthur couldn’t get this through his head. He told himself he wanted to be free and that he should want that. Who would want to be caught in a snare?
Arriving at the top, Arthur had to catch his breath as he had almost ran up those steps. The lift through the mountain didn’t run at night, and there were night dock-workers on duty, hauling boxes. The dock extended straight out into the sky, over the city, and the airships were parked motionless, except for a steady swaying from the wind. They were lit with torches, which backlit the city guards positioned in front of them.
A freighter approached out of the dark. Large and slow. At first it was a black blob, phasing into existence. Arthur could see the huge balloon reflecting moonlight. The ship looked black and he could detect no movement on the deck. None at all. It was almost as if it was empty, a ghost-ship. A tiny ship went to help it park, tugging its stern around. Once parked, the side opened with a booming clank, and workers funneled out with large crates on wheels.
He thought about what Cass was doing with that guy right now. Food was served right about now, and Arthur bet she was sitting next to the guy with a hand on his thigh under the table. She probably gave it a squeeze every now and then.
Stop it, he told himself, you’re just being jealous. It’s better to move on, be free. He could go anywhere, do anything. He wasn’t chained to one place. But what was the point of being free if he wasn’t happy? He didn’t have an answer.
How was he to get her back? The first step is to apologize, he figured, then probably impress her by proving the guy she’s with is an idiot. That’s the plan. But he’d have to go about it smoothly. It wouldn’t be right walking up to her and saying sorry, that wouldn’t seem natural. He would have to get close to her again. The only way to elicit sympathy is to seem sincere.
A noise came from the stairway, voices. Familiar voices. Cass’s head appeared in the stairway, accompanied by the man.
“Oh...Arthur,” she said, looking like she had seen a ghost.
Arthur glared at the man.
“You know him?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
Arthur noticed she didn’t mention how she knew him.
“Arthur, this is Rone. I met him at fellowship.”
“I know.” There was silence.
“I didn’t think you’d be up here,” she said to Arthur.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”
He got up and left, but they didn’t see him sneak around the bushes. What was he doing? He didn’t want to see whatever was going to happen. It was going to hurt him...but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to walk away. He laid behind a tree. Peeking out from the root, he had a perfect view of them sitting on a bench.
This Roney guy put an arm around Cass as they looked at the airships. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“The time for peaceful protest is over,” Jordan stated to the crowd. “We must rage against Kinga Baltha until we have control!”
At this, some people quieted, and some filed out the exits. They had come for the food and the friendships, not for rebellion. Good riddance, Jordan thought.
“Those among you who want change, I invite you to stay after. I have a proposal.”
Arthur watched as Cass’s head didn’t move, neither did Rone’s. They must be staying, he thought. He considered if he wanted change, if he wanted to have a lasting impact. He did, otherwise what was the point of this all.
Soon the hall was empty except for a few people. Arthur was one of them, and Cass, and Rone too, as well as others.
“Come forward young ones,” Jordan beckoned. “Come closer. You, way in the back. Come up here.”
Cass and Rone looked back for the first time. Up the center aisle walked Arthur. He looked like he had his chest puffed out, and he was standing tall. He leaned nonchalantly on a chair, grinning at Cass.
“I want to upset Halgen’s political system,” Jordan began. “And I think I know how, but I need your help.
“What I’m asking is not easy and it will disrupt your lives and everyone around you for a long time. But we must allow for change, even if it is uncomfortable.”