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Chapter 363 - Quiet Resistance
🕑 Added 2020-12-22 04:28:08 +0000 UTCExhausted from another long day of labor, Sami left the Tasa manufactory around dusk. When he had taken the job, he had never thought that his work would be so physically draining. Of course, even after all these days, the manufactory still wasn’t operating the way it was supposed to, despite their previous plans.
Rather than overseeing the mass-creation of luxury furniture like he was paid to do, Sami had spent his recent days in the half-destroyed leftovers of his previous place of work. There, he helped the other workers clean up the mess that the various groups of ‘supervisors’ had left behind on their raids.
Though at first it had looked like they could scare away the warriors of the league of lords, they had soon been taught a lesson in humility.
In the first few days of Saniya’s new order, after King Corco’s capitulation to the demands of his lords, the bands of warriors had still been somewhat restrained. They had threatened them with harsh words, but had only probed for entrance and had never overstepped legal bounds.
Especially when they had realized that the Tasa manufactory employed a lot more workers than the average commoner workshop, many of whom were cultivators and former warriors themselves, the ‘supervisors’ had quickly retreated. Some of the ruder ones had been more insistent, but they never had the strength to force their way inside. And once the local police forces showed up, even the most persistent among the ‘supervisors’ would disappear after spouting a few excuses and leaving behind some vague threats.
However, the greedy warriors had never really given up. With the promise of riches in front of them, these people were relentless. After all, the Tasa furniture manufactory was the first privately owned manufactory in Saniya, and it was also the largest workshop in the hands of commoners.
On top of that, Sami had also heard stories that the ‘supervisors’ had found no success in their attempts to steal from the official government manufactories these days. As a result, they targeted the commoners even more viciously than before, driven by their greed and desperation.
Compared to all the smaller workshops that were still in private hands, the large Tasa manufactory would logically become their prime target. So they hadn’t really been deterred, not by the powerful Tasa workers, nor by the warnings from the local police.
As the local forces had shrunk back more and more over the following days, the supervisors saw their chance, and got bolder and bolder as a result. When they realized that none of the police would seriously stop them, let alone punish them for their crimes, several groups of ‘supervisors’ had banded together and finally overpowered the Tasa workers.
After they had forced entry into the Tasa manufactory, they had searched up and down for anything of value, and had taken with them whatever they could carry. In the process, they hadn’t identified themselves, they hadn’t shown any official documentation, and they hadn’t asked a single question.
They hadn’t even tried to pretend that their actions were in any way legitimate, or anything other than daylight robbery. Once their rampage was over, they had left behind a mess, which caused great distress to Sami and the other workers. Though he was mostly distressed about all the extra work, really.
At least their boss understood their struggles. A few days ago, boss Sawo had appeared and paid all factory workers two months of wages in advance, including a bonus, which had done wonders for morale. Still, Sami would have preferred to avoid the constant raids from various groups of ‘supervisors’, even if it meant slightly less money.
In fact, what annoyed him most about these supervisors was that they weren’t even doing their jobs right. Not their fake ones, and not their real ones. Of course, they weren’t supposed to enter the privately owned businesses at all, and they weren’t supposed to just take stuff, so they never really acted like supervisors. But that was to be expected. However, they were even lousy bandits. For one, they had no eye for valuables at all.
Whenever they scoured the manufactory for things to steal, they would routinely overlook some of the most valuable goods they had in store. They would walk right past the expensive woods imported from Chutwa or the Verdant Isles, only to take the cheap brass alloy they used as decoration for some of their furniture.
Just because it‘s nice and shiny. The same eye for treasure as birds.
Even more hilariously, they had no idea how to fulfill their masters’ goals either. According to one of Sami’s friends, these supervisors had specifically come to copy and steal Saniya’s advanced technologies. Those were the orders their masters had given them.
However, they would walk right past the irreplaceable machines like the water-powered lathes, just because they didn’t understand them. To them, they must have looked like greasy blocks of gray iron, maybe comparable to an anvil in usefulness: Too heavy to move, and not worth that much in the first place. To them, these invaluable marvels of technology had no worth. And it seemed like the bandits were acting like this in other workshops as well, from what he had heard.
If these ‘supervisors’ really wanted to steal something of value, they should have quietly watched the manufactory during working hours and copied their order of operations, which was optimized for efficiency and the biggest money saver in their entire workshop. At the same time, they could have taken a few measuring instruments like rulers with them as well, another key invention that they foolishly overlooked in favor of blackmailing a few copper coins out of the workers’ pockets.
Maybe that was the worst embarrassment for Sami: The fact that they were being bossed around by such colossal incompetents. However, while the supervisors were horrible at their jobs and had no understanding of real life work, the chaos they caused was very real indeed. If at least one of their aims had been to spread terror throughout Saniya, their operation had been a smashing success, quite literally.
As he sneaked his way through the dark alleys of the city, he didn’t come across a single soul. Still, in several directions, he could faintly hear far-off shouts and the sounds of destruction. Both had become familiar to Sami over the past days.
Once, everyone had walked on the large and straight roads built by their king with pride and confidence. Day and night, these roads had been lined with stalls and shops, offering all kinds of wares and snacks to the people who strolled past them, simply to enjoy the atmosphere of the greatest city in the world.
Now, the stalls were gone, and the people had behind the walls of their houses. Only the patrols of warrior supervisors were still outside to make trouble for anyone who dared to come into their view.
Maybe, soon enough, the warriors would lose all inhibitions, and start raiding the private homes in the city as well. That would truly be the end of Saniya, and his as well. If these people ever found out what Saniya’s commoners were doing behind closed doors, there would truly be no going back.
Before any warriors could find him, Sami made his way several roads down, to the goal of his journey, a mid-sized courtyard in the city center.
Two short, two long, two short.
With a code written in knocks, he let the people behind the door know that he wasn’t an outsider, or a raider.
Early on during the city’s new order, some private citizens had made the mistake of opening their doors to the supervisor. They had paid dearly for their error. Since then, everyone had become a lot more cautious and wouldn’t let anyone in unless they knew them by name. That was appropriate even for normal households, but it was even more fitting for the people inside this yard. After all, they really had something to hide.
Not long after his knocks, the courtyard door opened, and revealed its owner, a familiar face to Sami.
“Sami, welcome,” his old friend Chanca said. A few years back, both of them had arrived in the city on the same boat, as fellow carpentry apprentices. But today, Sami was a foreman at the new Tasa manufactory, if it ever started production, while Chanca had made his career by sleeping with the rich man Ekoko’s daughter.
“Hey Chanca, long time no see,” Sami replied, relieved to see his old friend again. After Sami had quit his work at Ekoko’s bar, the two had lost sight of each other a bit, though the recent events in the city had united them again.
“Come inside,” Chanca said while he grabbed Sami by the shoulder. “The event has already started. And there’s something special I want to show you.”
From the courtyard, the two marched towards one of the buildings in the back, furthest from the road. From the outside, Sami could already hear the excited murmurs of people, which was why they had to hold their meeting in these larger backyards. If anyone heard them while walking by, the nouse would draw attention otherwise.
Still, despite the remoteness of the building, both Sami and Chanca looked around, as if on reflex, just in case there were any ‘supervisors’ nearby. Only then did Chanca open the door and let his old colleague enter.
Inside, the air was heavy, thick with defiance. More than a dozen young men and women filled the room, almost to the brim. They were people from all walks of life, though none of them were warriors. They had craftsmen and merchants in here, but also entertainers like his girlfriend Ulan or the sons of farmers who stayed in the city to visit the school. Sometimes, even police and soldiers would join them in this place.
These secret meeting had grown out of the quiet gatherings that many well-off Saniya commoners had made popular in the last few years. However, in here, no one would play quiet chamber music to drown out the unjust world outside. Instead, they would come together here to drink, be merry, and – most of all – rail against their oppressors.
At the moment, all the guests stared at one of their own who was about to do just that. With a straight and righteous posture, he stood on one of the tables, the crowd gathered around him, and spoke in a powerful voice.
“This is a poem that I have titled ‘the Panther’,” he explained, before he began to recite the words in his heart.
“His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.”
For a while, Sami was transfixed, stunned into silence by the powerful language. Wasn’t this just describing his own tragedy, his own inner turmoil? Wasn’t this the position of everyone in this room, their strength, valor, and nobility caged, by ancient laws. All of them eager to break free, but numbed by years of oppression, from forces far above their own? Compared to the shallow poems about spring and summer that the fancy nobles liked, these were words that spoke to his heart and tensed his muscles.
“Heavens know what he’s babbling about again,” Chanca interrupted Sami’s profound thoughts with his usual thoughtlessness.
“You can’t relate to this?” Sami asked in confusion. Even if Chanca couldn’t understand the words, couldn’t he at least feel the fire and desperation contained within the diction?
“He’s always waxing off like this, but I don’t really get it.” Chanca scratched his head. “Words won’t do us any good either way. Once the supervisors show up, I’m sure they won’t care about his fancy diction. Anyways, if you’ve heard enough of this nonsense, I’ll show you around now. As I said, there’s something I wanna show you. I guarantee it’ll be better than the tiger poem.”
On any other day, Sami would stay in these meetings and mingle with the group for a bit, but Chanca’s expression looked unusually serious by his standards. Thus, Sami followed his friend deeper into the building, away from the downtrodden youths.
Hermit's Notes: The original poem 'The Panther' was written by Rainer Maria Rilke. I always thought it made for a good metaphor for a pre-revolution state. I looked at various english translations, and this was the one I thought best captured the feeling of the original. As always with poem translations though, I feel like it doesn't quite do the original justice.
