By the time I was home, I was angry enough to give credit to Allandra’s continued complaints, and I agreed to accompany her into town one evening for a meeting of the Shade.

Late after dark, we chanced our way into town – it was only a half hours walk, and I was nervous all the way. We entered around the back of a tavern, which was raucous enough inside as it was when we descended the stairs to the hall below.

The group was called the Shape, named suhc because they were the secret underground force in the shadows of society. They were the light hiddne in the dark bounds of slavery.

Their leader was named Erik, and he was a large, burly man who worked in a machine shop down the street. He was scarred, always with a fresh wound on his hands or arms – he claimed it was torture and oppression, I figured it was from the hazards of the shop itself, or maybe it was both.

He stood up on a makeshift pedestal and the raucous around me quieted. The grip he had on the people was obvious, they way they revered him.

Allandra beside me suddnely changed. Where she had been chatty a moment ago, her mind racing and eyes darting around the busy room, she now watched with rapt attention, solely aware of Erik’s preachings.

My unease grew.

“My bretheren.” Erik called out. “Oppression is rampant in this day an age.” He held up his wrist, uncovering a brand from the Royal Trading Company. I had one too, an intricate circle with the monogram ‘RTC’, and a number across the bottom. Everyone I knew kept them ocvered with old bandanas, but here they all took off the strips of coth and bared them proudly.

Erik punches his fist in the air, making the brand clearly visible. He shouted, “Opression!”, and everyone punched with him.

“I was sold for a mere hundred credits.”

“Oppression!” everone around me shouted, slamming their fists upwards.

“Made to work for fourteen hours a day in unsafe conditions.”

“Oppression!”

“I don’t have a choice, or a chance to say ‘no’.”

“Oppression!”

“I am a slave!”

“Slavery!” the crowd shouted together.

I looked to Allandra, she had followed, not missing a beat. I knew then the speach was premeditated – it had probably been the same speech every week, but it was powerful nonetheless.

“My master doesn’t care if I’m sick or not. I have to work.”

“Slavery!”

“Taken away from my home, my family.”

“Slavery!”

“I face the consequences for wanting my rights.”

“Slavery!”

“But, friends, I can fight against my fate.”

“Power!” the blindly faithful shouted and punched the air.

“The master needs my work.”

“Power!”

“Through pain and punishment, he cannot make me do what I am unwilling.”

“Power!”

The room took on a frantic air of fanatacism.

“Power!” the crowd shouted again, starting to stomp on the floor.

“We are the base of society, my friends!”

“Power!”

“They cannot live without us!”

“Power!”

“They do not see!”

“Power!”

“They do not understand!”

“Power!”

“But we will show them!”

“Power!”

“We will make them see!”

“Power!”

“We are the true masters of this world!”

“Power!”

Drummers along the back wall were suddenly revealed, banging and encouraging the furious beat that build underfoot. Dark, unmarked bottles were passed down. I didn’t drink, but it smelled something rank.

They began to chant: “Oppression. Slavery. Power!”, and to dance. As the drink was passed, the thing fre, the freedom dancing turned to an orgy – and I turned to the door.

Outside, I felt restless, uneasy, like I had just seen something I should not. I breathed heavily in fear – my stomach churned from what I had witnessed: a group of people – my friend among them – so discontented with their society that they planned to strike out against it.

I ran. In my mind, there was a need to stop them, to protect the others, what family I had, I needed to tell them, but how could I – tell them I’d betrayed their trust. I ran.

It was dark in the house when I returned. My feet carried me of their own volition up the staircase, past my own chamber, and down the corridor. I did not try to protest, although I found myself, with trepidatious surprise, outside Allandra’s bedchamber.

The bedchamber led to the Lady Celine’s. I entered.

Her door swung open ahead of me, not quite latched on uneven hinges. I stood quitly look in, trying to still my breathing. A tear or two slipped form my eyes for what I had done.

She groaned once, a calm whimper in her sleep, as she turned over. She yawned, half awake, and her eyes blinked.

“Serkis?” she mumbled, as she rolled back to face me.

I froze.

“Serkis.” she said more strongly. She raised upon her elbows to peer out at me from the dark.

Lords, I loved her, and all I had done was hurt her.

“I’m sorry.” I managed to say, “I’m sorry.” I smiled at her, andd whether or not she could see the sticky tears in my eyes, I do not know, but I turned to leave.

“Serkis?” she called after me, but I kept walking. “Serkis?”

Neither of us slept that night.