Edeard descended onto the district adjacent to his, where the buildings were squatter and less meticulous in their construction. Modest disrepair clad the brick housing. Their tenants were either none the wiser or didn’t particularly care. In his hurry he hadn’t changed out of his official attire. People looked his way, noted his crisp coat, his precious metal aiguillette, his overall manner, and returned to whatever they were doing before, albeit in a sourer mood than before. Edeard had never looked back at his abode this way. He had seen it thousands of times on his return from his duties yes, but from the perspective of the main boulevards. People were happy to see the knights there. Well-to-do people. From here, the view of well-kempt estates only instilled envy. Sometimes they threw parades on those boulevards celebrating the Knight Guard. Edeard had begun to realize who it really was organizing said parades.

He had had a hand in putting down a few of them himself. Many of them were using Reciprocators: crystal-cored devices that held a few simple Spells in repetition among the gem’s lattices. Spells in the hands of the people. Power where they had claimed it belonged. Except none of them had an iota of the Mental discipline all casters must be taught. Taught being a light word. Edeard thought it was more like indoctrination.

He ignored the deluge of mean looks he received from anyone who passed him by. The children were worse, less restrained, and like all children they knew they could get away with much more. So Edeard endured the little pebbles they threw at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. One simple repulsion Spell would be all it would take. He could cast one instantly. During the riot he had tossed a man who had a head over him aside with such a Spell. He still remembered the sound of a skull crack against the pavement, and the river of crimson that meandered out afterward, tracing the individual slabs in the sidewalk. The man wasn’t even threatening him at the time.

So in a way he understood their attitude. No good deed went unpunished in a fair world, especially by those the deed was meant to benefit. His thoughts returned to what was in front of him when he found the clinic. There was a secretary of sorts manning the front desk. It was a disheveled place full of disordered stacks of binders, books, and papers. Far too much work for one filer.

“Where is Doctor Deidre?” Edeard asked.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I’ll look for him myself.”

“Hey you can’t—!”

There weren’t that many offices in the clinic. Only one of them were lit. Edeard considered knocking it down. He twisted the knob instead, finding it unlocked. The secretary continued to clamor behind him.

“I’m sorry, dad, this rich piece o—”

The doctor raised a hand from behind his desk without looking away from his writings.

“It’s alright, I left him an appointment,” Deidre said.

Edeard closed the door in the secretary’s face. Now they were alone.

“Give it back to me,” he said.

“Listen…” The doctor looked beyond his years. There was the structure of a middle-aged man in that face, laden with an unlucky amount of senescence. Sleepless eyes looked up from the paperwork, somehow maintaining a sharp gaze through ancient spectacles.

“There is no talk to be had,” Edeard said. “Give it back or people get hurt.”

“That’d raise attention, no? And I’ve a feeling you want discretion on this work.”

“I never said I’d be the one doing the hurting. I’ll assume you know what’s been happening.”

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“Employment has been becoming harder as of late, did you know that?” Deidre left his desk to his liquor side table. He began pouring two glasses. “This is our own. We make it on the weekends. Maybe a little too brisk for your refined palate. It’s certainly dirt cheap.”

“What is this?” Edeard said, exasperated. “Is this how we work now? Sling stereotypes at each other? Your tribe versus what you assume is mine? I’m trying to help you. Give it back!”

“I will.” Deidre offered a glass. “But how can you help if you refuse to listen?”

Edeard made a sharp noise of disapproval. But he did accept the glass.

“Here’s to good faith,” he said. He took a sip before Deidre did. He just managed to stop his eyes from watering.

The doctor smiled. He downed his drink as well.

“That is my younger daughter manning the front desk,” he said. “Never was good at numbers. But she forced herself to learn how to file so we could keep this place afloat. We used to get operating fees from the palace. Now it’s less than a quarter what it used to be. And the prices of agents, gauze, tinctures, and balms don’t change. What’s worse, people are getting hurt more and more. Desperation’s everywhere, Sir Lumens.

“My eldest daughter disappeared one day, saying she had found employment. Said it was discreet, but it paid. She was almost done her Regal studies too, which we had been saving for over a decade to send her to. I think we both know what kind of employment she was referring to.”

“Let’s assume I do.”

“Oh these things are so complicated…” Deidre squinted. He sighed deeply. “How does it all work? What determines the worth of a coin? There’s more than enough for everyone, so why is it all up there. That’s what I hear the kids say nowadays.”

“That hasn’t been true for a while,” Edeard said. “The lords are more or less keeping an image.”

“And you?”

“I’m a Knight of the Preservation. I’ve my own house and one servant. Hardly affluent, ignoring the pitfalls of discussing relativity.”

“Yes. There’s always someone with more. The kids—” Deidre shook his head. “—there’re just so angry. So young. Passionate. You’re all lords to them. They’re going to take the palace.”

“I know.”

“You want to stop it?”

“I will.”

“You may not be superbly wealthy, Sir Lumens, but you’ve a supreme ego.”

Edeard couldn’t stop the flash of anger that streaked across his expression.

“I’m trying to—!”

“So you’ve said,” Deidre said. “But don’t you think it takes a certain degree of self-obsession to think it falls onto one person to single-handedly affect change?”

“I’m planning on getting help. I’ve connections in the palace. I’m not relying on my own power here.”

“And it will all fall into place? What next after you seek help? You know for sure they will stop what has been set in motion?”

“I- I haven’t the specificities figured out yet.” Edeard shook his head. “But I have to try.”

“Therein lies the issue. You fly across the rooftops of Ralagast with nothing but good intentions, circumventing the law with no surefire plan, to stop a revolution by the people you’ve sworn to protect, by eliciting help from the people you serve. And you’re a caster. If you make a mistake people like me die. See the imbalance? You can’t stop this, Mr. Lumens.”

“Age doesn’t guarantee wisdom, doctor. I’ve no delusions of grandeur. I can only try. And I must.”

“Even if you make it worse?”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Good. I’ve a deal for you then. I will tell you where I’ve hidden the weapon, and you can do your show-and-tell to your boss. In exchange, bring her back to me.” Deidre handed Edeard a steelfeather sketch of his eldest daughter. Soft eyes and narrow chin, the look of a scholar, not a fighter.

“You’d only have my word,” Edeard said uncertainly.

“I will foil your plans if you are not on the path of upholding your end of the deal. Believe me, I will. Bring her away from those foolish children and back to me.”

Edeard laughed, bitter and hollow.

“Through all that waxing pessimistic about the state of our city and the mentality of our young people, in the end you’re just another citizen who only cares about himself!” Edeard scoffed. “You care about the life of your daughter more than the countless thousands that will be affected by this.”

“When you try to do the right thing and fail, you lose everything, Sir Lumens. We tell our children stories about heroes and the concept of ‘the right thing’ so they grow up with a healthy mind. Adulthood is realizing what you can save, and what you can’t. Rarely does one do ‘the right thing’ ” Deidre’s lips quivered, but Edeard could see no fear in the old man. Just pure resolve, so potent it rattled his old frame.

“Fine,” Edeard said. He held out a hand. Deidre shook it weakly. Edeard could feel the man’s bones beneath his skin. “I’ll find the girl.”

“Good. The weapon is under your desk in your study.”

“What?!”

“I can’t fit that monstrosity in my doctor’s bag. I’d get spotted and killed!”

“You couldn’t have known I would have assumed you took it. There was no way you knew for sure.”

“No. I had but faith.” The doctor smiled. "That's all I had at the time."

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“I’m a human.”