Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen - Chapter 57
Welcome to my seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.
As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.
Chapter 57
There's a dark mood in Remo's house that was not due to the group, but mainly to the host. Remo was part of the city council and a wealthy man. Even now that his land was no longer his, his family remained one of the wealthiest in the area. This shift in the balance had not been to his advantage, and he did not see how to turn it to his advantage.
“You can work in the fields in the coming days if you want to stay. I've spoken to a number of farmers who want to see certain things harvested and built as quickly as possible before those creeps have completed all their administration."
"As for myself, I will remain here in the village for the time being. I have a fairly important position in the village council and will probably be visited soon by this new regime.”
The atmosphere in the village deteriorated day by day. Those who thought they could keep things hidden were often disappointed. The new elite were more than skilled at their work. She estimated quantities and value without too much effort. In addition, it was as if she felt where things were hidden or withheld.
There had been opportunities in the first few days, but they soon ceased to exist. Secret routes were discovered, and hidden supplies uncovered. The punishments were severe; entire stocks and their owners disappeared as compensation.
It quickly became apparent that it was not worth keeping things hidden. No one dared to trust anyone anymore, apparently, that was one of the guidelines to combat scams.
Another method appeared to be offering the scammer part of his assets in exchange for information about other scams. As a result, the once-open community now consisted of isolated cells that only communicated with others what was necessary.
The system these rulers wielded was not created along the way. It seemed to me a carefully tested way to create enough pressure and fear to pit the population against each other.
This prevented any form of resistance against their rulers in the first period. New contacts between cells would probably arise over time. Cells that may dream of throwing off the yoke that weighs on them. But by then, the people would have been so accustomed to their new situation that the brewing atmosphere of resistance, which glowed in the first days, could not possibly achieve the heat that was there now just after this occupation.
It took me a lot of effort to accept this policy. Even as the passerby that I was in this community. I thought about our village, how peacefully and trustingly people treated each other there. Where things were shared out of conviction and interest, not out of obligation.
Of course, we didn't own any property, like these villagers with their jewelry and coins. Yet sooner or later this ruler would also appear at our door. There was no doubt about that. Even if we were lucky enough to remain hidden in our beloved valley, the world around us would change dramatically.
I could not let it go. There must be a way to prevent the extreme bloodshed. To stop the relentless expansion, but it will be harder every day because a heavily loaded cart going downhill is very difficult to stop.
The sad atmosphere also affects us. In the beginning, we are welcomed with open arms and invited to the tables of our employers. Just a few days later, the new policy means that we are greeted with jealousy, and only the most necessary contact is maintained with us.
When we stand at the door and are not expected, they look at us suspiciously until we mention Remo's name. This opens doors and fairs, but mouths remain closed. As if we are possibly spies, inspecting for the new rulers.
It is clearly time to leave; our earnings are not yet what I would like them to be. Still, I think it wise to leave before the black riders come to take their share of our income.
I am also afraid that our search for information has turned eyes on us. Eyes that label us not just as curious but as a possible threat to the regime.
Several times I felt the riders' eyes on our backs as we passed. Numico is apparently good at fishing, possibly because his young and not very agile appearance helps him. He found that these riders come from the north, and most of them do not speak our dialect. Only a few higher-ups have that ability.
The majority of the young boys are not particularly bright but are well-trained and heavily armed. They serve a ruler whose whereabouts are not made clear, but everything is done in his name and signed with his symbol."
The group that Remo described as demons were called the Sharido, or the deranged vanguard who broke any resistance. The dog we had met along the way had also been part of a group of Sharidos. Let it be said that these animals were at least as brutally barbaric and possibly even worse than the armed dogs on horseback.
Due to the fact that they cleared the way for the real soldiers, their regular raids and plunder are turned a blind eye by the officers.
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