specialty field involved obtaining the elements needed for the filters. My life was about to get busy – very busy.
The only good thing that came from Ash season was the ash it left on the ground afterward. It acted as a fertilizer and helped with the limited crops we were able to grow.
“This concludes the meeting. With the final words, we would like to thank Hunter Drake Adair for his diligent and substantial contributions, especially leading into the preparations for Ash season. Thank you, Drake, your father would be proud.” The Magistrate finished his speech, prompting applause from those in attendance.
The twenty or so people there started filing out in scattered lines. I scowled as I stood. I hated when people used the term “Hunter.” It was semi-derogatory, using a term left from the Neanderthal days of the world. But that summed up my relationship with the Magistrate.
I wandered around, shaking hands with various members of the Council on their way out, keeping an eye out for those that I really wanted to talk to. My back was to the center, where the Magistrate had finished up moments before.
“Drake, my boy. Good to see you. Though, I can hardly call you a boy anymore.” The Magistrate began, coming up behind me and clapping me on the back. He was a small but fat man with a starkly hairless head who overcompensated with a booming voice.
Despite all public appearances, he and my father had hated each other with a burning passion. That hate had been passed on to me. I’d never known why, but knew that I was expected to keep the dispute up. Even now, as he said such nice words in a far-too-loud voice, his hand with its fat-sausage fingers was squeezing my shoulder like a vice. It was like a bird’s talons sunk into my sinews. I don’t think he realized I could rip his hand clean off his flabby arm in a split second.
“Magistrate,” I started, an icy smile on my face, “just who I needed to talk to. I have some news about the Briln from the other night. I thought I should fill you and Jonathan in. Do you know where he is?”
He matched my icy smile with an audacious show of teeth. “Of course. Anything for you, the son of my favorite Hunter . Jonathan’s over there.” My face tightened as he emphasized “Hunter.”
We headed over and drew aside the man of topic. I filled them in on having been right on the edge of our Guild’s land when I was chased by Briln Water Guild. I told them how the Briln had been blatantly on our side and had shown absolutely no hesitation in chasing me down.
When I finished explaining things to them, I was met not with worry and concern as I had expected, but with apathy to the whole situation. Even when I had said that it wasn’t only their border patrol that had chased me, but a whole regiment. En masse. I reiterated as many ways as I could think of. All the previous instances of one Guild venturing onto another Guild’s territory had resulted in immediate action, no matter how small the situation.
“I’m sure you were exhausted from your hunt. You just saw our border patrol and panicked,” the Magistrate said, wiping his sweaty dome. “It’s perfectly understandable that you’re scared of being in the woods in the dark at night. It creates a problem for Hunters. But if you fail at this, you can always be a Sorter.”
A Sorter! That’s the lowest of the low. The lightly mutated, the diseased. Those were the ones who filtered through garbage and refuse. The ones that mentally and physically couldn’t hold another position. A word for them in another time would have been zombies. They were still alive, but only just. For the Magistrate to even put that on the table was enough for me to want to rip his pudgy head off.
In terms of hierarchy, Acquisitions Specialists were third down. First, Magistrates and their families. Then Councilors and their families. Then Acquisitions Specialists. Basically, Acquisitions Specialists are nearly top dog. Without us,
The only good thing that came from Ash season was the ash it left on the ground afterward. It acted as a fertilizer and helped with the limited crops we were able to grow.
“This concludes the meeting. With the final words, we would like to thank Hunter Drake Adair for his diligent and substantial contributions, especially leading into the preparations for Ash season. Thank you, Drake, your father would be proud.” The Magistrate finished his speech, prompting applause from those in attendance.
The twenty or so people there started filing out in scattered lines. I scowled as I stood. I hated when people used the term “Hunter.” It was semi-derogatory, using a term left from the Neanderthal days of the world. But that summed up my relationship with the Magistrate.
I wandered around, shaking hands with various members of the Council on their way out, keeping an eye out for those that I really wanted to talk to. My back was to the center, where the Magistrate had finished up moments before.
“Drake, my boy. Good to see you. Though, I can hardly call you a boy anymore.” The Magistrate began, coming up behind me and clapping me on the back. He was a small but fat man with a starkly hairless head who overcompensated with a booming voice.
Despite all public appearances, he and my father had hated each other with a burning passion. That hate had been passed on to me. I’d never known why, but knew that I was expected to keep the dispute up. Even now, as he said such nice words in a far-too-loud voice, his hand with its fat-sausage fingers was squeezing my shoulder like a vice. It was like a bird’s talons sunk into my sinews. I don’t think he realized I could rip his hand clean off his flabby arm in a split second.
“Magistrate,” I started, an icy smile on my face, “just who I needed to talk to. I have some news about the Briln from the other night. I thought I should fill you and Jonathan in. Do you know where he is?”
He matched my icy smile with an audacious show of teeth. “Of course. Anything for you, the son of my favorite Hunter . Jonathan’s over there.” My face tightened as he emphasized “Hunter.”
We headed over and drew aside the man of topic. I filled them in on having been right on the edge of our Guild’s land when I was chased by Briln Water Guild. I told them how the Briln had been blatantly on our side and had shown absolutely no hesitation in chasing me down.
When I finished explaining things to them, I was met not with worry and concern as I had expected, but with apathy to the whole situation. Even when I had said that it wasn’t only their border patrol that had chased me, but a whole regiment. En masse. I reiterated as many ways as I could think of. All the previous instances of one Guild venturing onto another Guild’s territory had resulted in immediate action, no matter how small the situation.
“I’m sure you were exhausted from your hunt. You just saw our border patrol and panicked,” the Magistrate said, wiping his sweaty dome. “It’s perfectly understandable that you’re scared of being in the woods in the dark at night. It creates a problem for Hunters. But if you fail at this, you can always be a Sorter.”
A Sorter! That’s the lowest of the low. The lightly mutated, the diseased. Those were the ones who filtered through garbage and refuse. The ones that mentally and physically couldn’t hold another position. A word for them in another time would have been zombies. They were still alive, but only just. For the Magistrate to even put that on the table was enough for me to want to rip his pudgy head off.
In terms of hierarchy, Acquisitions Specialists were third down. First, Magistrates and their families. Then Councilors and their families. Then Acquisitions Specialists. Basically, Acquisitions Specialists are nearly top dog. Without us,
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