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by Phair
Part 3
"We can not continue to sit idly by while the Elosians slowly destroy us from within. First, the filthy bastards occupy our land. Then they disband our militia, our constables. They even forbid us weapons to protect ourselves from wolves. Now, Offan's shop is seized! Still you, Magistrate and the Council of Elders, order us to be patient," Milos took a breath. "And to be passive."
"Young man, the Council and I understand your frustration," the Magistrate conceded.
"Frustration? Try anger," Milos shouted and the room exploded into a shouting match.
The general assembly was falling into complete disorder. An emergency session was called when a band of Elosian soldiers took control of the only remaining local shop in the valley. Every man over the age of seventeen harvests from the village and surrounding farms had crowded into the Elders' Chambers. Milos had given early voice to their collective fury but had been short on solutions. None of the young men cheering him on seemed to notice that shortcoming.
"May I speak? I say, may I have a word!" Senecos' deep voice stilled the crowd. "It is an outrage, Milos. Nobody on the Council will disagree with you. And, perhaps, we should have called for action some twenty harvests ago. Maybe, we should have rebelled when the Elosian Army surrounded us and cut off our supply routes then demanded our surrender. I wonder if any of us would be here tonight if your father and I and our friends stood against them so many days ago."
"The village would have been crushed," the Magistrate answered. "We weren't highly trained, ruthless fighters. We were only merchants and farmers with families."
"True," Senecos reflected, "but we would have had the satisfaction of defending our land. Milos, you have a son of six or seven harvests. Is he ready to stand against the Elosian Army by your side? Did you know they begin training their sons to fight as soon as they wean? Do you think your wife is ready to be widowed and childless as winter draws near?"
Milos slipped back a step, "Wait a minute. I wasn't talking about fighting."
"No? I'm sorry. I misunderstood. What would you have us do to right this outrage?" Senecos smiled as he watch Milos squirm.
"I, ah, I don't know, old man! You're suppose to be so smart. How 'bout you come up with an idea or two." Milos gave a wicked grin before adding, "I know, maybe that half blood girl you've housed for so long can ask her Elosian Daddy to give us a little help?"
The room erupted in fits of laughter.
Senecos climbed up on a chair to get the crowd's attention, "MILOS! You will show me and my kin proper respect or I will take you outside for the thrashing of your miserable life!"
"Old man, don't let your mouth promise something your body can't deliver," Milos and his gang continued to laugh.
Senecos leapt from the chair and crossed the room in three strides. Before Milos could react, Senecos slammed his right first into Milos' unprotected nose. The younger man fell unconscious at the old man's feet.
"Fifty harvests of farming keeps even old muscles strong, boy. You lot, drag him out of here. As for the rest of you, if you have anything to say about my daughter then you better be ready to breath through your mouth for the rest of your life." Senecos paused to regain his calm, "Offan, I am sorry for the loss of your shop but we are all trying to endure under a relentless occupation. We simply do not have the force to confront the Elosian Army and survive. It would be genocide. I'm truly sorry my friend but we can't sacrifice the village for any one man."
Offan looked around the room. He watched as the men averted their gaze. It was obvious they were not prepared to offer any resistance to the Elosians or Senecos.
"I hope you all starve!" Offan spat on Senecos before following Milos' friends out of the building.
No motions were filed. The Council decided against a written grievance to General Felix. It would only bring the General and his troops into the village to 'restore order.' The meeting was quickly adjourned. Senecos grabbed his cloak and exited the building without looking right or left.
"Papa, Papa, wait up," Dayne called after him.
"Oh, I didn't even see you," Senecos stopped for his tall, dark daughter. She was wearing one of his winter tunics and leggings she made from old blankets. Dayne was far too tall and narrow to wear any of Varna's clothes, "Were you waiting for me?"
"Sure," she grinned and her gray eyes sparkled with mischief. "I thought I might need to carry you home if it got too late."
"You only have to carry your mother. As for me, you may kindly bury me by the side of the road if I can't make curfew," Senecos chuckled but Dayne did not.
"Never," she snagged his hand between them as they walked. "If I lost you then I'd have no one. I'd be all alone."
"Dayne, you have your mother too," Senecos sighed as he repeated the old line he always used.
"She, Mother doesn't, you know, she doesn't like me," Dayne dusted away a tear from her left eye then right. "She never has and never will. You don't have to pretend it's not true."
"How many times do we need to go over this, my sweet girl? Your mother loves you. Varna loves you very much. She's just not as overt as I am in showing affection. Varna keeps her emotions all bottled, tightly up inside of her," being a politician helped Senecos smoothly lie at moments like these.
"Not all of her emotions," Dayne mumbled as her free hand rubbed her sore thigh. "But, let's not ruin a perfectly good walk home talking about her. Tell me about the meeting. Is the Council going to act? Do you think Offan will get his shop back? And, what happened to Milos' nose? Did you have anything to do with that?"
"Ahh, a million run away questions in that head of yours. You keep an old man young," Senecos smiled and tugged his daughter closer in order to wrap his arm around her waist. "Let me see, where to begin. Ah yes, I broke Milos' nose…,"
The sound of Dayne's laughter rose slightly above Senecos voice as they wandered toward their home.
Becca carried the few root vegetables she found in the forest into the kitchen of her home. It wasn't much but she thought she might make enough of a stew to keep the hunger pains away for her little sister. In the moons since her father lost his shop, the only food they had was what they found on the forest floor or rotting in the neighbors trash and the three ducks left on their doorstep by some brave but foolish stranger. Hunting was illegal for the villagers so the ducks were much treasured ill-gotten gains. They were the greasiest, most savory birds Becca could ever remember eating.
Becca stopped midway into the kitchen. Her father sat, sound asleep on a wooden chair next to the table. His was head propped up on his hand, resting on his elbow perched on the table. Next to his elbow, lay a big, round goose for dinner.
"Dad, Dad," she called to the slumbering man as she set the vegetables down near the dead fowl. "Dad, how did you catch this bird?"
"What're talking 'bout?" Offan slapped her hands away as she tried to wake him.
"That's what I thought," Becca smirked.
"Is it another duck?" Becca's mother stood on the stairs, in the shadows, trembling.
"It's better. It's a goose," Becca held the huge bird up to show the frightened woman.
"Nothing good can come of this. The soldiers will be watching to see who gets fat during the winter. They'll kill us all," sobs came form the darkened stairwell.
"Mother, come down here and get dinner started. It's better the soldiers murder us than to die a starved sack of skin and bones," Becca admonished the distraught woman. "I need to fetch some water."
Instead of grabbing the bucket, Becca raced out the front door of her house trying to catch her family's benefactor.
"G'day, Becca," Dayne smiled as she casually strolled down the dirt road out of town, toward her father's farm. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
"Yes, Dayne, just," Becca paused and looked her friend in the eyes, "just beautiful."
The tall teen's tanned cheeks blushed slightly. She awkwardly shifted the pack of wood on her shoulders trying to find some comfort under Becca's scrutiny.
"I have to get this wood to the Widow Mavis. Sorry, I can't stay to chat," Dayne turned to continue on her way.
"Where did you gather such a fine load of wood," Becca asked. "I've had no luck finding enough kindling to keep the stove burning."
"Behind my father's field. If you need some, I could gather it…," Dayne heard her mistake before she could stop her mouth.
"The Widow's place is on your way to the village, Dayne. You're heading away from the village. You're the one whose been leaving food for my family, aren't you?" Becca folded her arms across her chest as she waited for an answer.
"Hunting is against the law, Becca," Dayne grimaced as she realized she had inadvertently confessed. "Please, if you're gonna turn me over to the Elosians, leave my father out of it. He doesn't know I've been hunting for some of the village families."
"Dayne! How could you think I'd turn you in. I'm your friend." Becca softened her indignant tone slightly, "And, I'm glad your mine. Thank you for the food. We'd have gone hungry without it. Dad does nothing but sit and drink since he lost the shop. I do what I can but I don't know much."
"I'd like to help you, Becca," Dayne gave a big smile. "I could show you how to catch fish, and where to find wood, and…,"
"Get away form my gate, half blood!" A drunken Offan shouted from the open door.
Several of Milos' men gathered near the village well stopped their conversation. Their eyes turned in Dayne's direction much the way a pack of wolves appraise their prey.
"Dayne, you should hurry home," Becca spotted the young men out of the corner of her eye. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"Oh, no you won't," Offan pounced on his daughter and savagely backhanded her. "No daughter of mine is gonna mingle with a dirty half blood Elosian!"
"Leave her alone," Dayne shrugged off her pack and tried to pull Offan away from Becca.
Several bodies hit Dayne head on. She was forced back and over the low stone wall surrounding Offan's house. The breath was knocked out of her when she hit the hard ground, giving the men a chance to get in a few unanswered blows. She recognized the faces surrounding her from her childhood. They had all been friends once. She was not sure what had changed over the passing harvests but the blows from their clenched fists convinced her a change had indeed occurred.