by J Seab
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Silence filled the common room for a stunned moment. Then it erupted.
Fillip joined the hubbub, clapping, pounding his mug on the table. The members of the Quiver strolled out along the front of the platform, holding hands, bowing. The woman dressed in rags swayed her hips suggestively. Catcalls and hoots filled the room. The actors retreated through the door. One member jumped to the floor and passed along the walls, turning the lights back on. He turned off the platform lights and then exited, closing the door behind him.
A couple of serving girls struggled through the seething crowd carrying big pitchers of ale, refilling mugs, playfully shooing off pinches and pats on the bottom. One patron reached out to fondle a breast; he got a knee in his thigh and hoots from his companions.
Fillip settled on his stool. The hubbub faded into a dull throb of babbling voices pierced by an occasional burst of laughter.
“That was interesting,” he said, his voice slurring slightly. Feeling buoyed, he waved his mug for a refill.
The serving girl responded immediately. Fillip smiled and took a deep swallow.
“Isn’t that the answer?” queried Marcus.
“The answer?” Fillip repeated, his thoughts mushy, confused.
“You aren’t the villain, you’re the Hero.”
“I’m the Hero?”
“Everybody knows that,” Marcus said, sweeping his arm across the crowded room. “You were the only one who tried to stand up for these people, tried to bring justice and equality into a corrupt system that caters to the elite.”
“But,” Fillip struggled to bring focus to his thoughts. “But what about Gordon? He’s going to hit me, move me back into the field.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Marcus said, leaning forward, grasping Fillip’s wrist. “On the contrary, that’s the best thing that could happen.”
Fillip shifted his watery eyes to Marcus.
“You did what was right,” Marcus continued, locking his eyes on Fillip. “You were the only one in Stonybruk who had the courage. Most people, deep down, know that, respect you for it. Some are even jealous, wish they had that kind of courage.”
“Jealous?” Fillip sat straighter, some of the fog lifting from his brain and his thoughts perking.
“Let Gordon demote you. Let him strike you down. You can use that, build on it; show everybody your determination, your courage. If he puts you back into the fields, then leave. Tell the world that you will not be bullied. You will not abandon your fight for justice, regardless of the forces arrayed against you.”
Fillip pulled his eyes away and looked down at his mug. “Where will I live? What will I do?”
Marcus eased back on his stool, his face lively, brightened with an enthusiastic smile. “That’s no problem at all. I know a perfect post for you. One that will allow you to use your talents more fully.”
Interest kindled, eager, Fillip asked, “What?”
“I know the news publisher at North Greelys Folly. She’s looking for help. Her newssheet, Greely’s Gazette, is expanding. You’ll move in with her. Help her write and print the stories. It’s a progressive newssheet, doesn’t hide behind Servitor rhetoric and half-truths. It speaks plainly, clearly, on the very issues you’ve raised here in Stonybruk. Russel Rafner, the publisher, will be thrilled to have you join her. Your experiences here will be invaluable. Like you,” Marcus said, thrusting a hand toward Fillip, “she’s a crusader, wants to open eyes, dispel the fog the Servitors have wrapped around people’s minds.”
Fillip, swayed by Marcus’s friendly onslaught and beaming face, by visions of glory and worship, immediately agreed.
Marcus stood, announcing, “We’d best get back and get some sleep. There’s much planning that needs done.”
“What do I do with these?” he asked, poking at the remaining quints.
“Take them with you. You’ll find them useful later, in many ways.” Marcus said.
Fillip scooped up the quints and dropped them into his pocket. Marcus helped him stand and escorted him to the entrance. Fillip only staggered slightly, much of the alcohol in his body burned away by new visions of grandeur.
They pushed open the door, preparing to exit. Fillip held back a moment, raised his fist, and shouted, “I’ll be back.”
Chapter 6