“Who are we, Marcus? We are second sons and awkward daughters. We are parts of a machine that requires our deaths to function. We are backups at best, hindrances at worst. If men did not die in battle there would be no need for us at all. To fight stupid wars, when there are better wars to fight, to bear children until we bleed out, instead of valuing those we have. It is the same for us both. We are sacrifices on the King’s altar. On the altars of all kings.
No more. If we are to die, let it be for a reason of our own choosing, let it be for our own battles, and our own daughters. Let the first follow the last in word and deed and blade, and weapons finer still, honed in idle hours. Silence, scandal, sufferance, the endless education of dancing and dozing, of reading, rapier, and right action. The court that exists by day has made us into a dreaming court of night. Well enough. If the night is to be our home, let us claim it. Let us form our own quiet barony. Let us protect ourselves and our heirs, but all of them, not merely those fortunate enough to be first. Let us not be shuffled on to stage, unprepared, when our brothers are clubbed to paste and dumped in rivers. Let us not lie in waiting for ever, and ever, and ever. Let us not sit in service to brutes and thugs as chattel or trade. Let them dance to our tune, instead.
No more. If we are to die, let it be for a reason of our own choosing, let it be for our own battles, and our own daughters. Let the first follow the last in word and deed and blade, and weapons finer still, honed in idle hours. Silence, scandal, sufferance, the endless education of dancing and dozing, of reading, rapier, and right action. The court that exists by day has made us into a dreaming court of night. Well enough. If the night is to be our home, let us claim it. Let us form our own quiet barony. Let us protect ourselves and our heirs, but all of them, not merely those fortunate enough to be first. Let us not be shuffled on to stage, unprepared, when our brothers are clubbed to paste and dumped in rivers. Let us not lie in waiting for ever, and ever, and ever. Let us not sit in service to brutes and thugs as chattel or trade. Let them dance to our tune, instead.
We are educated well enough, we have more wealth than we can spend, and there is injustice everywhere. Even without threats from beyond the pale, it is a crime that we should be idle. It is a crime that we should watch the rule of law devolve into violence and petty rivalry from now until the end of time. The day-court cares only for wealth and position, and demeans both by seeing them as the final end, while all around us are the ruins of a more glorious age. I have seen those ruins, and I will tell you now: We can out-do them. Without slavery, without submission, we can drag this muddy kingdom into a state of grace and liberty the likes of which has never been seen.
We should make a treaty, we second sons, we awkward daughters. Let us work as a court of shadows, let us form a dreaming league. Let us guide, and herd, and whisper, and let the hand that holds the club swing at our behest."
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