Vignette: Obsolete Nobility
I am beloved by my people, their benefactor by right. If I’m not the one benefiting them, how can I be a virtuous noble? If I am not necessary, who am I? In this way, the Ekonians have robbed me. The day after I first saw these thieves of giving at work, I was overwhelmed by this realization.
I was preparing the community garden for my people. This was always the greatest joy of my day, more satisfying by far on an emotional, even libidinal level, than even my marriage. I didn’t make foods that were fancy, exceptionally interesting or delicious. Of course I could create anything, seven layer cakes, steaming dumplings, impossible fruits filled with custard or jelly, all of them altered for perfect nutritional balance. I knew nobles who did this. I was a modest benefactor, call me nostalgic.
I got tremendous joy from imitating the gardens of old, before the Great Darkness. Pointing at a corner of my domain, and returning the old Earth to it, watching vines and limbs creeping out from the waste of this world, and swell into melons and tomatoes and bushes with my God-given vital energy. My garden wouldn’t just be a place for material fulfillment, this would be a museum of heritage, a true slice of the Essence’s holy energy.
Standing in my garden now, I felt none of the usual reverie. I looked out of the window, and then I looked into my hand. Out the window, I saw a few people, but not of the usual crowd. Only the most pious would come to me rather than the Ekonian thieves. In my hand, was the family scepter, held by four generations of patriarchs before me. It was the oldest scepter any noble in Skeyer owned, and had the rare gold-leaf details on its Sargasso handle from a more intimate time in the Faith.
I was the benefactor of sector one, mine was old power, and so it was great. This stupid wand I waved around with such self-importance was unnecessary for the Ekonians. I had seen them produce wonders from thin air. I squeezed my heritage until it hurt. Then I opened my hand, and let it fall onto the ground. It was followed down by a stream of bright dust. Essence? I looked in my hand. Gold dust. It was coming off.
I swallowed. Then I stormed out of the garden, the people waiting outside let me past, though their wondering stares followed me. They would get no food today. Let them complain to the foremen. I started for the Ekonian camp, but on the way, some sense returned to me, and I realized that I had no idea what I planned to do when I got there. I stood some distance from the camp, and decided to watch from the shadows of some ruins. Why was I hiding, I owned all of this. Why did I do any of the things I did that day, I was out of reasons, my nobility was just a word that day.
While watching, I noticed an Ekonian woman sitting outside of her hut. She rolled the wrist of one hand, and by the time it had come back to rest, there was a paperback-sized sandwich in it. It was lunch time for everyone. It was a wonder these Ekonians were still around with all the Essence the women used, why didn’t they become infertile? Or did they select certain women to be breeders, and absolutely forbid them from using Essence? Or, to me this was the most horrible of all, did the Ekonian Essence not cause infertility?
It was different from our Essence after all, it didn’t require scepters, and it produced those weird little pills. The Essence this random foreigner wielded was better than the one gifted by God himself. By our Prophet and savior, the root of my nobility and dignity. Then, something worse than anything else I had thought that day hit me. Could the Prophet, possibly, have been an Ekonian? These people did not act like holy emissaries, but maybe they came to mock at our inferior communion with God. To see God’s lesser people, to whom he sent some random Ekonian with inferior Essence, and laugh.
The Ekonian woman had finished her sandwich, and was starting to doze off. I crept closer to the camp, not many people were walking around, and most who were looked too busy to notice me. As I got closer, I saw a crowd, and stopped, once more irrationally not wanting to be seen. I saw that the people in the crowd were my citizens! Eating fruits from the cursed vines the Ekonians seeded for public consumption. I watched the greedy traitors eat their fill. None of them noticed their lord, standing not three meters away.
I waited until they all left, and then walked up to the wall where the fruits were myself. These clearly weren’t the natural fruits of my garden, they were bright orange, with a stem that rejoined the fruit on the side before climbing back up to the vine. After a moment of puzzling, I realized this stem was supposed to be a handle. I grabbed the fruit, and violently yanked it off. It popped off easily, and I nearly dropped it on the follow-through. At first I wanted to dash it onto the ground, stomp on it, maybe destroy some more crops, but that wasn’t the way of a noble. I composed myself, I had to remember that deep in my blood, I was still better than that.
I sniffed the fruit, it was completely odorless. I bit into it, the outside was crunchy, it wouldn’t have broken so easily if I threw it to the ground anyway. Inside was gel of an aloe-like texture, and while the outside again tasted like nothing, the inside tasted like custard. Of course they would be like those nobles, no sense of heritage. I wondered whether they were all this flavor, or a mixture?
I started to reach for another, when out of nowhere a hand landed on my shoulder.
“Marxos?”
I turned around,
“Ronwen? What are you doing here?”
She looked away guiltily, and opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. It hit me that she was here to try the fruits the Ekonians had made. Even my wretched wife was under their spell. When I accused her of this, she actually looked relieved. I wondered at this relief, and came to a decision. A guilty conscience is a burden. Perhaps the one power I had left to offer as a noble was divine repentance. My wife, however pathetic a woman, could still feel and love this power in me, so perhaps there is still hope.
I want to preface this by saying as a whole I really liked this vignette. I didn’t think it was overtly wordy and didn’t try too hard to link characters or items together. Everything really seemed to flow. What worked Well: I liked that it was in first person. None of the other vignettes that I have read have been in first person. I think this choice worked well also, for reasons beside it being different. The main character, Marxos, has a very dry and bitter sense to him. The first person choice allows us to see him in all his bitterness, from how he thinks. Similarly, I like the overall sarcastic tone this is written in. Marxos makes for an interesting vignette, one that has a different feeling to it than many of the other ones. His use of phrases like, “This stupid wand I waved around with such self-importance was unnecessary for the Ekonians” add to this. It also stands alone quite well. I know nothing about this world, yet I feel that I got the gist of it pretty well. I figure that these people need nobles in order to eat, and that there are two different groups of people who have this ability to create food, likely by magic, or Essence. What needs improvement Marxos is a noble member of this society, but I do not feel like he necessarily speaks or thinks like one. I would recommend the use of larger words to really amp up his nobility. I also think it would add to his “untouchableness” that he seems to have. A bitter noble with a brain makes for a much more intimidating character. I also think you fall victim to some telling, and not showing. Much of this vignette is written in a “I did this” way, with little description. For example: the paragraph where he describes the food other nobles make could run deep with all five senses being engaged. Describe the smells, the tastes, the joy it brings those who are fortunate enough to eat that food. Then maybe contrast it with the food Marxos has to make his people, and how plain it is in comparison.