Chapter 4: The Economics Of Peasantry

Landar

Over the next several weeks I watched and learned. Forcing myself to stay awake longer and longer, and doing little chores around the apartment whenever I had the strength.

As I learned more about this strange new world, I found there were odd little conveniences that seemed out of place. Like, for instance, that each floor of our apartment complex had what amounted to rudimentary plumbing.

A simple gravity system provided four communal shower stalls and toilets water. That system was filled once a week from city aquifers by professional pump operators that went floor by floor. When I asked to go to the roof to see the mechanics of it, my mother laughed. Then lectured me about not taking foolish chances with heights when I had just regained the ability to walk.

She had a point, but it still intrigued me.

I had gotten into government service because, well, that kind of thing was always interesting to me. Most people might find the workings of a sewer system boring or even disgusting, but for me the sewer, showers, toilets, and even the fact that the city lord apparently owned the apartments rather than some merchant land-lord, and rent was paid instead of taxes, fascinated me.

“So, we don’t pay taxes. On anything?” I asked for what had to be the sixth time. My mother was a captive audience. She was scrubbing the dirty laundry in our wash basin while I hung the still wet clothes on our line in front of the oven. I had to stand on a chair to reach it so it was slow going.

“That’s right. We are the Duke’s tenants and citizens of the city. Taxes are paid by traveling folk, merchants, and nobles who have their own lands and collect their own rents.” I opened my mouth to ask how merchants were taxed and if they transferred those prices to the buyers in the price of their goods. But she shook her head and laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted to join the Duke’s Tax Collectors.”

My sister chuckled from behind me where she was stoking the small fire in the oven.

“Who are they?”

“I swear, boy, I’d think you have been bedridden for most of your life with your gaps in knowledge.” My mother said with an exasperated smile filled with love. “But then again, I suppose you have been.”

Her expression fell and I could tell she felt regret at my illness. “The tax collectors are the people who run around the city and enforce the Duke’s taxes on those who are supposed to pay them. Your father knows more about them. Be sure to ask him when he gets home. Now you don’t have to use so many pins to hold a shirt on the line. Tabitha, can you show him, please?”

When my father came home that night, we were all asleep as usual. But I woke up when I heard him wash his bowl after he finished eating the food we had left out for him.

“Father?” I asked from the doorway.

“Ah, Landar. Come sit with me.”

I did, but I had trouble getting onto the bench. My father watched me struggle until I almost toppled over, then reached down and plucked me off the ground. A moment later I was sitting on the bench.

“Don’t worry lad, you’ll get it, eventually.” He patted my head as my face burned from embarrassment.

I can’t even conquer a simple bench.

I shook off the embarrassment and drowsiness I felt and pressed on. “Thank you, father. I had a question and mother told me to ask you.”

“Oh? What is it?” He pulled out his whittling knife and then a second smaller knife that he deposited in front of me. Then he took out two pieces of scrap wood and did the same. “Sorry it took me so long to get these Landar. It’s been rather busy at work and I haven’t been able to stop by the crafters yards in a while.”

“I understand,” I said as I picked up the much smaller knife and felt it in my hands. It was easier to hold for me, but still difficult. It was gratifying when my hand didn’t cramp as I started carving into the soft wood.

“I was wondering what the Duke’s Tax Collectors are? Mother said you knew more about them, and I should ask you.”

Tomas shook his head as he let out a low chuckle. “Yes, I know about them. They’re,” he paused, searching for the right way to explain. “They’re scary people.”

“Even for you?” I asked, a little incredulous. The man was a literal giant, as far as I was concerned. I doubted there was much in this world or back home on Earth that would scare him. He could probably have wrestled a black bear single handedly and come out better than the bear did.

“Yes. The tax collectors are retired adventurers who are in the Duke’s service.” He said the word adventurer as if I should know what it meant. I could guess based on context clues, but it was important to be sure about this kind of thing. The look of confusion in my eyes only made the man smile. “Ah, I forget how young you are, and how little we’ve been able to teach you. You don’t know what an adventurer is, do you?”

I shook my head, and he sighed.

“Adventurers are, well, they’re people. From all walks of life. Some are clerics, some are warriors like me. Others are nobles and can use some types of magic. They go out into the wilds and do things like I do at the gate. Protect people, fight monsters, and other things like explore ancient ruins. What you need to know about adventurers, son, is that almost none of them live very long.”

He gave me a hard look and waited for me to respond. I thought about it for a moment, puzzled by his words. “So, if the tax collectors are retired adventurers, that means. That means they’re very strong.”

I could see a smile tug at the edges of his serious expression. He was proud I had put it together. “Be wary of an old man or woman in a profession that kills young. It means they’re either smart, strong, fast, or blessed by the Gods in ways no normal person could match. Or, some combination of all of those things.”

“Youth and exuberance are no match for experience and treachery.” I said, quoting a friend of mine from my service days in the army back on Earth. I hadn’t served long before I moved into private contractor and security work. Focusing more on prevention than on things like security patrols. The sandbox hadn’t been good to me, despite my short-lived service. But the things I learned there? They had launched a career in a profession that eventually landed me an ambassadorship. And that piece of wisdom was part of it.

Tomas chuckled. “Exactly. Though I’ve never heard it put like that.”

“Mom said you work with them sometimes?”

“Sometimes, only when they come by to pick up the fees nobles pay to travel in and out of the city. Though there have been a few times they’ve helped us deal with some rather organized thieves who tried to break into the barracks store house. What brought all of this up?”

The conversation died, and we continued to whittle in silence. Nearly twenty minutes later, I was done and exhaustion washed over me again. I held up the finished carving. It was a warrior, with broad shoulders, and a spear in hand, standing at rest as I imagined city guards stood when on duty.

It wasn’t very detailed, more a general shape. But Tomas oohed and awed over it. “I’ll have to show Oswald. This looks almost exactly like him.”

“Who is he?”

“Oswald? He’s my administrative assistant. He does the purchasing and ordering for all the supplies, and manages the schedules for new recruits.” Tomas’s expression fell. “But he’s on his wedding retreat. Which is why I’m working the night shift right now. So I can get all the accounting and ordering done in peace.”

I yawned and felt another wave of exhaustion wash over me. He put down his own woodwork. This time, I was sure it was a bear of some kind. Then he picked me up and put me back to bed.

***

“Wake up, son,” it was Tomas’s voice. He was usually asleep or at least getting ready for bed by the time the rest of us woke. “Its Seventh Day.” He pulled the covers off of me, and I found I was alone. Both Elsbeth and Tabitha had gotten up already. “And you are well enough to go now. At least for the important part.”

“My baby’s first Temple visit!” Elsbeth said as she entered the room. She wore her best clothes, freshly washed from the other day’s work. I examined Tomas and realized he, too, was wearing his best uniform. The one he kept in extra good condition for formal occasions. Not that he had many choices, the man only owned two.

This wasn’t an uncommon sight. Seventh day was a lot like Sunday back on Earth. It was the universally understood Holy Day for all the major religions. Until now, I hadn’t been able to go. Now it seemed my parents were going to take me with them.

Less than an hour later, freshly washed and wearing clean clothes that were far too loose. They were cinched as tightly as belts and ropes would allow. I was proclaimed, “As ready as he’ll ever be, woman. Let’s go.”

Tomas picked me up and carried me as the family walked together, down and out of our apartment and onto the street. A few other families joined us as we walked.

I took in the sights of the city. It was my first time outside our apartment, but I had seen the street from our window nearly every day. From the ground, it had a completely different feel. I felt like I was almost back in Tokyo.

The apartments went four or five stories high, and the streets were long and winding. Like canyons choked with vendors along the edges. Though the stalls were largely closed as people made their way towards somewhere together.

The horizon was filled with white clouds, pierced by a single silver tower that jutted into the sky and was visible from virtually everywhere as we walked. It looked like a mix of steel and silver, and shined brightly in the morning sun.

“What is that, dad?” I asked and Tomas looked up to see what I was pointing towards.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Ah, that is the Duke’s tower. Where young nobles go to learn their trade at his feet. Duke Mortimer built an academy out here because we’re so far away from the capital. The first one in the Western Duchy. Makes sense he built it here in Vlane, but since it finished a few years ago work for us guards has practically doubled. So many nobles from the countryside send their children here to learn.”

“I think it’s pretty,” Tabitha played with the ribbon in her hair as it caught the light. It was a bright blue color, and at the right angle, it looked almost neon. As I looked around, I found nearly everyone’s clothes had the same effect. Usually made of homespun wool or cloth, but they had strips of dye that, if it caught the right light, looked as vibrant as a neon sign in Times Square.

We worked our way through the streets of Vlane, and eventually came out on a large open road that was cobbled with well-cut stones. It was in contrast to the bricks, or compact dirt and gravel paths, common among the tenements where we lived.

I looked down the main road and found the silver spire far off in the distance. Much closer was an enormous cathedral-like building that was at least seven or eight stories tall. It had gargoyle statues of mythical beasts fighting heroes, or divine personages casting judgment or mercy on the mortals in their care. The cathedral, or temple, I wasn’t sure what it was, and its surrounding complex was massive, with multiple wings sprawling in different directions.

Behind it was an enormous wall and gate as the road wove around the temple complex, and came back together on the other side. Surrounding the temple were the same style three to five-story apartment complexes we lived in. But these were far higher quality. Each one had a small plaque outside that listed the name of a family or business inside.

Looks like the city is broken into different districts by class, I thought as I surveyed the layout. The temple complex and plaza surrounding it seems to hold all the important buildings and infrastructure. Those have got to be merchant shops, and that must be the central garrison. I thought as I found another large building off to one side that had neither the charm of the merchant buildings nor the majesty of the temple complex.

It was stout, with two small towers rising above the other buildings around it. It was made of stone and clearly built with sturdiness rather than luxury in mind. “Dad, is that the barracks?” I asked, pointing the building out.

“It’s the central district barracks. That’s where the head captains work.”

“Do you want to be a head captain one day?” I was interested in knowing my father’s future ambitions.

“I’d love to, son. But that kind of responsibility requires skills I just don’t have.”

“Like?”

My father sighed. “Like reading and writing. Sure, I can read and write well enough to do my job now. But I’m not skilled at it. I don’t have the foundation for it, I think.”

“Foundation?”

It was my mother’s turn to answer. “When we are young, our body and mind learn and grow more easily. We lay a foundation for our future. Your father’s physical foundation was beyond compare, almost perfect according to the priests. But his mental and spiritual foundations were less so.”

“What about yours mom?” She blushed slightly, but she answered honestly.

“My physical was moderate, spiritual was high, and mental was moderate. I had the option of joining the ranks of the grey priesthood. To be like Mother Margaret. But I met your father and fell in love. Raising a family was the calling of my heart. And I haven’t regretted it once since.”

“Can a person change their foundation later in life?”

“Yes.” The way father said it made me think he was skeptical. “But it’s much, much harder. You need extensive training, a willing and skilled teacher or mentor, and a lot of luck. It’s important to focus on your foundations as a kid. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to where you need to be.”

I didn’t know exactly what my father meant by that, but before I could ask we had arrived at the front gates into the temple complex. The outer wall was of pristine white marble, but it barely rose about head height. Cleary, it was meant more for privacy than for defense.

On either side of the gate were two men wearing heavy armor and grey robes underneath. “Clerics of the grey priesthood,” my father whispered up to me. “They defend the church against thieves, and other things.”

The clerics were large men, and while they had massive maces at their belt, it was clear they didn’t expect any threats from the crowd. They smiled and waved at children as we passed. One of them caught my eye and waved at me. It felt awkward, but I returned the gesture.

Just past the gates dozens of young grey robed priests and priestesses stood accepting gifts from the people as they walked by. When one came up to us, father produced our figurines and handed them over.

“Toys for the orphanage.”

My mother dug in her pocket and produced a small coin that looked like copper. “Its not much, but a copper for their food.” The young woman took the copper piece and the two wooden figures with a smile. My father’s wolf figure, I had helped with and my soldier, were added to a small basket the young priestess carried.

“My name is Neophyte Sena. Thank you. May the Mother bless you, and the Father guide your beautiful family.”

Everyone in my family but me returned the saying. The young woman looked up at me expectantly for a long moment and my father chuckled. “I’m sorry sister. He’s still young, and this is his first trip to the temple.”

The woman blinked at my father for a moment, as if she couldn’t comprehend what he had just said. “His, his first trip to the temple?”

“Yes.” Mother said. “He’s been so sickly. Mother Margaret has graced us with her direct attention.”

“Oh. You must be the Gaudhaus family. Is that right?”

I had never heard our last name before, but my mother and father both bowed slightly, confirming the young woman’s words. “Ah, I see. I’ll inform the mother that the boy is well enough to attend his first seventh day. No doubt she will be relieved to hear of it. In the meantime, I suggest you instruct him on how to properly return a prayer.”

The way she said it made it clear to me she was more concerned about what others might think than her own offense at my ignorance.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“It's alright child, your parents will teach you.” The girl smiled, curtsied and then left.

It turned out that when a priest offers you a blessing or a prayer, that it’s polite to return the gesture. What I had done was considered the same as having spit in her face. If I had known what I was doing.

Sena? I’ll have to remember that. I’ll need to make it up to the young priestess if ever I see her again, I thought as we passed through the gate.

Inside I found there were several chapels that fed off the main one, each with seating for what looked like hundreds of people, while the main hall held thousands on multiple levels, with booths and skyboxes up to the third or fourth story of the building. Where the more wealthy members of society attended the services.

The whole thing reminded me of those mega churches some of my cousins had gotten into when they had moved to Texas. Just not nearly as small as those analogues on Earth. The only place I’d ever been that could compare was the Mormon Conference Center in Salt Lake City. My ex-wife and I had visited and toured the place years and years ago, when she still worked for her fathers airline.

“The top is where the nobles are supposed to be.” Tabitha said when she caught me staring up. I could see a twinkle of wonder in my older sister’s eyes at the idea of being in the same building as the nobility.

We found a standing pew near the front of the peasant section on the ground floor. It was packed. Tomas had to help prevent me from being crushed by the press of bodies as more and more tried to push into the pews.

Eventually the crowd went quiet as a man in all white robes appeared near what looked like an altar at the front of the hall. Two attendants in black robes held golden objects. The man in white reached for the scepter one of them held and that man walked back and out of sight.

“This Seventh Day is the fourth Seventh Day of the eighth month of the year.” The mans voice didn’t exactly boom over the crowd, but it was more like he was speaking clearly right in front of all of us. We could hear him easily, no matter where we sat or stood.

“The fourth quarter of the year starts tomorrow, with the advent of the ninth month. To usher in the fall season, and the beginning of winter, we will hear of the story of the love found among the gods, and then partake in the holy giving ceremony. Where our prayers will give the Father and Mother who watch over us all, the means to bless and guide us through the dark months to come.”

The man in white held the staff out, and the attendant in black retrieved it. Then he took the golden ball from the other man, who likewise drifted back out of view. The man in white activated something on the ball and a wave of light filled the temple.

A moment later I found a projection on the all white ceiling tiles of the cathedral. Images formed from the light, and soon a story of two lovers took shape. The Goddess, known now as The Mother, had been alone. Watching over the people of our kingdom as they built civilization from mud huts and wooden spears, into towns and cities. She helped them mourn their dead when monsters came and destroyed their homes, and helped heal their injured, guiding her servants to greater and greater heights of knowledge and technology.

As far as I could understand, she was responsible for what amounted to a basic understanding of architecture, mathematics, medicine, including a basic penicillin analogue. She was the mother of civilization.

But she grew lonely, and her people, despite their ingenuity and knowledge, never could conquer the powerful monsters that plagued them. Whenever they built something truly grand, or accumulated knowledge enough to potentially challenge these beasts, represented in the play by dancing shadows with lith bodies, dangerous talons, and sharp teeth in a humanoid form, their work was destroyed and her people murdered and scattered.

And so her story went. Three steps forward, for every two steps back. Her people stagnated. Some became slaves to the monsters, others grew idle or desperate and turned to dark powers that consumed them rather than protected them. And on and on the cycle went. Building, discover, and hope, followed by destruction and tragedy. Only for it to begin again over and over.

Until eventually, another god came.

This was the Father, and he came in power and glory. Warriors followed in his footsteps, and though they were few, each one was a match for two, or even three of the monsters. They threw down the slavers, freed the bound, and redeemed those who had in their desperation turned to darkness. Together, the mother and father, Civilization and Power, saved the kingdom and her people.

Their first child was given to an earthly couple. The king and queen of the kingdom, who had been trying desperately to conceive and yet had failed. They raised the babe and made him their heir. And so, the line of Kings was intertwined with the line of the Gods themselves.

The academics, scientists, and healers that had followed The Mother split into two groups. The Gray and the Blue priesthoods, dedicated to service and scholarship, respectively.

While the warriors of The Father split into three. The Red dedicated to protecting the Kingdom, and Yellow dedicated to serving the spiritual needs of the kingdoms people. The smallest of the three groups formed the foundation for the nobility.

There was clearly more to the history than this story. But for a foundation myth, it was pretty straightforward about everyone’s duties and responsibilities. Something that those from Earth rarely had.

At the end of the story, the man in white turned the golden ball off and handed it back to the waiting attendant in black.

“Now for the sacrament of giving.”

“Bend down, son,” Elsbeth said as she held my shoulders and gently pushed me to my knees. I found a soft pad at the base of the pew and found it didn’t hurt so bad. “Hold out your hands like this.” She showed me by upturning her own palms, and I did likewise. “Now, follow what I say. Oh Father, Oh Mother, at this turning of the season take my gift, and help the cycle continue.”

I started the same prayer, but felt something deep inside shift.

The burning fever I had felt dissipating that first day as Landar rose again. But instead of entering my head, the heat moved to my hands as I said the words. It grew in intensity, and I knew if I touched wood I would scorch it. But I felt no pain. I nearly panicked, but a strong, gnarled, old wrinkled hand gripped my wrists.

“Don’t stop. Finish the prayer, boy.” It was Mother Margaret’s voice, and her hands were like iron vices around my wrists. I did as instructed, and soon felt the heat pool even more intensely in my hands. Then suddenly it evaporated as it left my palms. As if it had been taken, or sucked away by something.

I opened my eyes and looked skyward, but couldn’t see anything. Instead, I felt an intense pressure all around me as similar but far lesser heat left the hands of my mother as they were wrapped around me, showing me how to do the prayer.

My eyes fell on Mother Margeret’s old wrinkled face and met her cold blue eyes. She was smiling. “How do you feel Landar?” I mentally examined myself. Honestly, I felt somewhat better, though now I was more tired than I had been before.

I decided to be honest. “Tired, but good.”

“Is something wrong, Mother Margaret?” Elsbeth asked as she opened her eyes and found the older woman gripping my wrists.

“No, nothing is wrong.” The woman stood, but she kept her voice quiet just for us. “But the boy is still sickly. The ceremony is almost complete. When it is finished, be sure to bring him to me so I can ensure his health.”

Elsbeth bowed, and the elderly woman walked away. A surprising spring in her step.