Day four of the harvest season, year six of the Red Banner.
My Dearest Caseld,
I write to you today to commemorate the beginning of my caravan’s journey. Simply being in the presence of some of these individuals is absolutely breath-taking. I am so glad to have been a cart driver in this time. We—my horses and I—pull enough food to last the entire 87 of us for two fortnights. I couldn’t imagine why we would need so much food, even though we regularly stop for the construction team.
Oh Caseld, my love, the things I wish you could see with me! I’m not one to stick her nose where she has no business, but this project the engineers keep stopping us for intrigues me: They have been constructing a small, narrow road, with metal fencing only one hand or so tall on either side. Peculiar, isn’t it? The road is barely one cart wide! Why would we build a road of such distance if it only fits one cart?
Unfortunately, the others do not find it as strange as I do, and I have no one to muse over the situation with. The Red Banner’s soldiers—Bannermen, they call each other, though I’ve never heard of them—told me that the project wasn’t of their concern, and neither should it be mine. To think: they have not an inkling of curiosity about their mission? The Red Banner may be efficient, but I dare say that it can be stupid, at times.
The inquisitors, on the other hand, aren’t much for conversation. Egbert tells me they’ve all gone and taken a vow of silence. Doesn’t make much sense, to me. One of them needs to talk. Otherwise how do they get orders? Are they just here because they saw us gathering and thought, “My, it looks like something important is happening! I better go up and join them” and just show up?
But enough about me, how is the family? Is your mother well? Is my little brother still helping you at the farm? Has the trade route the Red Banner promised finally been established? Is our son doing well?
With fondest regards,
The Red Banner is a council put in place to control the five nations of Feorbeund: directing their resources, controlling their markets, and keeping them from war. It values efficiency over all else, which is why it directs so much of the world’s resources towards science and infrastructure. Second to its tenement of efficiency is discretion.
Silent Inquisitors are the standing army of the Silent Church, trained to hunt mages—who make deals with spirits for supernatural power—with maximum reliability: Every piece of Inquisitor equipment, every ring of their chain mail, is consecrated with holy Silence, and makes no noise. The only thing you will hear from a Silent Inquisitor as they charge into battle is their breath.
This post was inspired by the Daily Prompt: Journey