Haeros Dungeon - Chapter 21 preview (Patreon)

Many of you might wonder, why the long discussion about the pogrom in Haeros, about the Everlasting Flame cult and my interactions with the fae considering my future and how little time and how small my effect on the city itself was. Certainly, compared to the changes I wrought upon the lower floors, on Holdfast on the 99th floor and the world below, what I did here in Haeros might seem unimportant.

It is, in many ways, but it also kindled the flame for many of the conflicts to come. My disdain for the government, the religions and the people who might place their comfort and security over the dignity of others were rooted in what I saw in this period.

You ask, what do I mean about the religions, about the conflict with the Eighteen. After all, there was no discussion thus far about such things, no indication that the religions sought the death or banishment of the fae or even promoted the pogrom.

And that is true enough. Speaking with Yorrick, who obviously had little formal education but was – if anything – more of a believer than Brand or Kira, having found comfort in the pews during fifth days, free food and shards on religious days, it was clear the Eighteen’s stance was a non-stance.

They had little to say about such events.

Which obviously was a concern. Being neutral was a perfectly acceptable position when you entered into a discussion about the correctness of pineapple on pizza or whether or not a dress looked good on your wife’s mother. After all, it wasn’t as though any of those things mattered and sometimes taking a position might even cause offence and harm.

There were also times when being silent and not publicly announcing your own position and thoughts to the world at large was important. You didn’t need to tell everyone every single thought that went through your mind, or every opinion that you heard, especially when you did not have the influence, power or leverage to change a circumstance.

That was something that the children in the twenty-first century, those who had grown up in a world of social media and constant connection, did not understand that well. All too often, they demanded that others take a stance, not realizing or caring about the consequences of such action to the one they demanded it of.

It was, in particular, a bad idea for minorities to talk out of turn. More often than not, second chances only came to those who fitted the majority mold. If you were a minority, they had little empathy and so any opportunities that were lost were often gone forever. In those cases, success could be fleeting and all that could be done was to work out how to build oneself up again, sometimes in entirely new industries or cities or countries.

Cancelling, as the kids said, really only stuck when you were a minority. So, I never really saw a reason to speak out too much, not when I had no influence on the greater narrative, not when I could do a lot more good being silent.

That kind of consideration disappeared though, when you were the dominant force. When you had the leverage to make a difference. As a web slinger might say, with great power comes great responsibility.

In this case, the Eighteen had a lot of power. Not just individually, as gods or through their believers, through their demi-gods who might make their way to the city itself, but also through the religious apparatus and bureaucracy that dominated the city life. That they chose not to say anything, that they chose silence over harming their own, temporary interests, spoke to a greed and a lack of empathy I had no desire to emulate.

Simply put, I thought they weren’t doing enough.

Conversations with the fae were mostly led by Yorrick. Once I had bumped him from his point of stasis, he got to work fast. Also, amusingly, I found out that he had been holding out a little on me when he said he only knew three fae. Not that he lied directly, but every time he came across one of his companions on the street, he spoke to them quietly. He had them pass on the word – or at least the ones who are willing to do so did. Through his companions, through their own network, word spread faster.

When Yorrick got to the first of the three that he had spoken of, the family of kobolds in the farmers market, he was quick to detail what was coming. Like most oppressed minorities, there was very little panic or disbelief at the dire news Yorrick imparted. They knew that these things could happen and the harder life was, the more plans that were made.

The father and mother listened, bobbed their tiny, furred heads and thanked Yorrick profusely and briefly before they disappeared down the hole in the ground beneath the building that was their residence. The second fae was not as happy, visibly angry at the words passed on to it by Yorrick. I saw all this from a distance, since he had not been at the garbage heap when we arrived and Yorrick, seeing my discomfort at the smell and noting the passing of the day, had sent me for dinner.

By the time we got to the third fae on his list, the nymph was already in the know. That was our first, and only, encounter with government personnel from Haeros. We were lucky that we only received a stern word of warning from the security guards as they came up to us as we chatted with the nymph. Lucky that they never passed on our descriptions. It probably would have ended our journey through the Haeros dungeon much earlier.

Not that I doubt that either one of us would have eventually gotten as far as we did.

Unsurprisingly though, Yorrick decided that that was the extent of his aid. It was clear that news of the upcoming pogrom was running through the city, along the lines of gossip and bonds. Obviously, there would be some who would be caught out by surprise, patches of groups that might never receive word or received it too late, but he had done all that I could ask of him, and done it well.

As for myself? I had one last visit to make, to another person who might have contacts that I lacked.

Yes. I visited the Upturned Stove with revolution in mind. Even to this day, I don’t think Eamond ever forgave me.