Unrevolution 12.4
Nothing since JULY?! Oh, man. I still haven’t figured out why the site’s broken, but another post is long overdue. This one won’t make much sense to readers who never got the old dead-tree-edition issues, but I guess the 12.3 didn’t, either. Continuity be damned, let’s knock this issue out, already, shall we?
Unrevolution 12 – In which some things are explained, some questions are answered, and more questions arise, erm, therefrom.
Cassaria hadn’t written anything in months. Ever since she left the castle, in fact, she’d been unable to put any thought down on paper. She’d been writing daily for as long as she could remember, and now she had stopped cold. It was as if her creativity had remained behind, along with her furniture, sculptures, and most of her clothes. The purge had seemed necessary at the time. She had found it freeing. But now, as she stared at the row of cottages and shops at the edge of her adopted city, she wondered if it had been a mistake to leave so abruptly.
The regret was not enough to make the idea of going back palatable, though. She knew her role as administrator would allow her great power in this time of uncertainty. The king was gone, perhaps never to return, and in his absence, things had begun to fall apart. Most of the army was disbanded, their disillusionment in the wake of crushing defeat causing many soldiers to simply abandon their units and return home. Most of the officers went with them. Crime had been a minor problem in the memory of most citizens, but it was on the rise, as the lack of authority tempted minor thieves and robbers to greater crimes.
Cassaria’s immediate problem was not as dramatic, but no less intractable. Her time at the Edge Inn had been enjoyable, even stimulating, since a steady stream of people made their way through the front door, to the bar, and out again. She hadn’t encountered such variety in people in decades, if ever. She wanted a place of her own, though, after long years under someone else’s roof. She had a little money with her, and finding work would prove easy, no doubt, but the tiny room upstairs would always feel temporary.
She heard Barlow come out the door and stand behind her. He said nothing, and she smiled at his hesitation. Barlow had treated her with deference of the highest order since her arrival, despite her attempts to be just another guest. She let him stand for a time. He cleared his throat, but said nothing. She considered speaking to him, but was overwhelmed at that moment with a sense of calm, and couldn’t summon the words. The wind rustled the grass across the road and stirred up a tiny cloud of dust. In the distance, the shadows of low clouds wrapped the hills. She was unable to break her silence.
