The pages that stare at me do so with a blank expression. I struggle to untangle fact from fiction as well as the mirid of the emotions that lay between, questions concerning my own judgement takes center stage.
The beginning of the hand, should have been taken as a sign of what lay ahead, my own blind loyalty held me sequestered from the truth instead of opened to reason, as I found myself publicly embroiled in a verbal debate with the flamboyant Poetess.
To say I do not like the woman would be a glaring understatement, I make no effort to hide the fact a sentiment that is shared. I find her motives questionable, but also transparent not to mention her accusations unfounded concerning the Poet. I took pleasurable satisfaction reminding her of the stance he took concerning the repelled taxes. I remained steadfast not allowing myself to believe the worst, much less remain silent while she spread her lies thru the crowd. She however would not be swayed, driving her point onwards with the accusation of a personal involvement between myself and the Magistrate. I did not deny or substantiate the accusations, that is simply a slippery slope I will not publicly venture down nor will I be subjected to offering up any explanations concerning the company that I keep. While the desperate claim solidified my resolve, it did sway the crowd of onlookers heavily in her direction.
Truth be told, I am not surprised at the tactics used, the ability to blend scandal with fact are effective tools, I am often times guilty of operating the same way, not surprising really for I believe people always want to believe the worst about others.
It was only after we parted way, did I speak to the Magistrate concerning what had transpired. The facts altered slightly due largely to the fact that I wanted him to deny the accusations concerning his involvement, to offer me some sort of reassurance concerning the respect and trust I regarded him. I would be lying if I didn't admit the existence of the underlying satisfied motive gained in exposing the woman's true colors.
I came to understand the following morning why he did not offer me the reassurance I sought.
The plastered announcement embossed with the City Seal covered the City Board.
The earlier conversation fed the seeds of doubt the grows..
PURSUANT TO PENDING INVESTIGATION OF REASSESSED TAX INCREASES, ALL TAX INCREASES TO THE PEOPLE OF AR HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY DEEMED REASONABLE.
The announcement, combined with the salt shortage brought with it pronounced splintering of factions, never before have the differences felt so pronounced. The upper Caste devotes themselves to luxury, uninterested in caring about the ones beneath them, in retaliation the Lower Caste has lost the war the more recent casualty, devotion. Chaos rules supreme. The balance of power grows increasingly oppressive to the point that those I formally held in esteem, are now viewed with opened skepticism. The formally repelled taxes, suddenly commanding center stage, threats circulated are done so with a malicious threatening tongue.
Sense of desperation replaces that of reason. The taste of betrayal has left me feeling cold.
Two days after the posting, I decided to put the Inn up for sale. It was not a decision I entered into solely due to my inability to pay the taxes upon the expensive property, even though that did weight heavily instead I simply refusal to feed the corrupt administration. I will not give in to the unreasonable demands, not at the expense of my pride nor my dwindling revenue.
The upstairs loft of the bakery suited me well in the past and shall continue to do so, I am fortunate that I have a choice, it is a luxury not afforded to many as my Inn is just one of many properties currently flooding the stagnant market.
The move will put much needed distance between myself and the Central Cylinder, it will also allow me to return to the roots of my success and those good citizens that have made it possible. It will allow me to continue to encourage others to remain intolerant and outspoken concerning the injustices that face us, I do remain optimistically hopeful that by presenting a united front we change the course of the current leadership.
I do so aware of the fact that it could label me a traitor.
The cost of my refusal to fall into line weighed. In this I draw the line the line in the sand.
A chance meeting with the Poet two evening ago allowed me to evoke one of the rights I still retain. The encounter poorly executed on my part. The frustration and betrayal that I still feel rendered me defensive instead of open to a reasonable debate. I walked away ashamed, instead of victorious, the words the longed to be heard remained silent upon my tongue.
"Why didn't you fight harder for us?"
PURSUANT TO PENDING INVESTIGATION OF REASSESSED TAX INCREASES, ALL TAX INCREASES TO THE PEOPLE OF AR HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY DEEMED REASONABLE.
The announcement, combined with the salt shortage brought with it pronounced splintering of factions, never before have the differences felt so pronounced. The upper Caste devotes themselves to luxury, uninterested in caring about the ones beneath them, in retaliation the Lower Caste has lost the war the more recent casualty, devotion. Chaos rules supreme. The balance of power grows increasingly oppressive to the point that those I formally held in esteem, are now viewed with opened skepticism. The formally repelled taxes, suddenly commanding center stage, threats circulated are done so with a malicious threatening tongue.
Sense of desperation replaces that of reason. The taste of betrayal has left me feeling cold.
Two days after the posting, I decided to put the Inn up for sale. It was not a decision I entered into solely due to my inability to pay the taxes upon the expensive property, even though that did weight heavily instead I simply refusal to feed the corrupt administration. I will not give in to the unreasonable demands, not at the expense of my pride nor my dwindling revenue.
The upstairs loft of the bakery suited me well in the past and shall continue to do so, I am fortunate that I have a choice, it is a luxury not afforded to many as my Inn is just one of many properties currently flooding the stagnant market.
The move will put much needed distance between myself and the Central Cylinder, it will also allow me to return to the roots of my success and those good citizens that have made it possible. It will allow me to continue to encourage others to remain intolerant and outspoken concerning the injustices that face us, I do remain optimistically hopeful that by presenting a united front we change the course of the current leadership.
I do so aware of the fact that it could label me a traitor.
The cost of my refusal to fall into line weighed. In this I draw the line the line in the sand.
A chance meeting with the Poet two evening ago allowed me to evoke one of the rights I still retain. The encounter poorly executed on my part. The frustration and betrayal that I still feel rendered me defensive instead of open to a reasonable debate. I walked away ashamed, instead of victorious, the words the longed to be heard remained silent upon my tongue.
"Why didn't you fight harder for us?"
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