John Sakamoto marched alongside the new militia. With the ousting of the Wanderer, the Brotherhood had been contracted to be the city's primary security force. Unlike the others in his formation, lifting their legs as they trained how to "march" as the officer described, John had mixed feelings.
Many of the volunteers present had enlisted into the city's echelon program. It was described as a way for citizens, especially the young and the strong, to join the city's elite vanguard to help secure the city and protect it from danger. John had signed up upon leaving school. He had hoped to meet the Wanderer who was rumored to personally train the most gifted recruits. Instead, the Council had more or less handed the lists to the Brotherhood, further entrenching the outsiders into every single one of the city's administrative apparatus.
While John was now sure how to see the change, he did look up at the ominously hovering airship that sat moored above their open square. The training field had been fashioned out of an old pre-war park. Efforts had recently been made to replant many types of flora into the small patch of dirt but the project had yet to bear fruit. John was unsure if it ever word now that the Brotherhood had designated it a stomping ground for new recruits.
John caught the eye of an officer and he quickly sharpened his movements, hoping not to be noticed further. This was day 12 of training for this unit and while the Brotherhood officers conducted themselves reasonably and fairly, they were known to browbeat people into submission with their ways. John was not keen to start an argument with an officer but he could not help his mind wandering when the officers were not constantly barking orders as they had in the earlier days.
Today was different. The weather was far warmer than previous days. Unusually warm in fact and more than that, some important looking people were observing the training. The typical morning had the unit line into their formations as they awaited the officer before beginning whatever training that officer had in mind. It was an informal process in John's opinion, but the officer repeated that this was far easier than if they were Initiates.
Even so, John tried to keep his head down as some of the new people watched the unit like hawks. They were dressed differently from the officers. While the officer who had introduced himself as Knight-Sergeant Calhoun was dressed this morning in a white t-shirt, steel-colored cargo pants and a matching steel-colored marching coat, the newly arrived officers dressed themselves in trench coats and carried themselves with an air of superiority and they moved rigidly. As they watched now, their heads resembled swiveling turrets rather than natural, human movements.
In the center of their brigade was a bearded man wearing a fur hat. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the procession. He was seemingly listening to Knight-Sergeant Calhoun's reports on the trainings but the man seemed disinterested as though he were seeing something different from the sight that lay before him.
The unit stopped their movements in unison as they completed the exercise. They were told to practice their marching movements until signaled but instead of the expected order, the bearded man unclasped his hands and raised it up as though he were asking a question. The unit stopped as they watched all the officers present cease their activities.
The bearded man leaned towards the Knight-Sergeant before whispering something into the subordinate's ear. Calhoun's eyes met John's and suddenly the world focused in John's consciousness.
The sound seemed to slam straight into his ear drums by the time Calhoun finished shouting "SAKAMOTO! Come here!" the Knight-Sergeant's voice cut through the morning air as John quickly made his way through the unit. Murmurs and whispers sounded left and right as John tried to move through the bodies. He quickly reached the front of the unit before the Knight-Sergeant resumed his orders.
"All others are dismissed for the today. Return tomorrow at 0600 hours." Calhoun barked. He then gruffly shuffled past John and began running the other recruits off.
"John Sakamoto?" a man to the bearded man's left spoke as John assembled his nerves.
"Yes, sir?" John stammered. He was faced with the entire entourage of well-dressed officers. They gave a completely different feeling compared to Knight-Sergeant Calhoun. While Calhoun was gruff and grumpy, he generally was an easy-going and fair man. The people before John seemed to possess all of Calhoun's severity but none of the man's patience.
"At east, Mr. Sakamoto." the man spoke once more, pushing up his glasses before taking off his hat. "You may address me as Scribe Angharad. The Elder and I would like to have a word if it convenient for you?" While the man posed the question, the glares from the procession made it clear that the request was intended to be received more like a demand. John could only bring himself to nod before the Scribe nodded and waved a path for John to join the men.
Minutes later, John found himself sitting inside what was clearly a makeshift barracks. The Knight-Sergeant's to be specific given the messy clutter of personal items and disorganized exercise equipment. The Knight-Sergeant had once prided himself for being one of the Brotherhood's most dedicated trainers, it seemed to John that it was the Knight-Sergeant's only passion.
"Mr. Sakamoto?" Scribe Angharad's velvety voice focused John's attention away from his surroundings and back onto the round table that seated himself, the Scribe and the bearded Elder. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Mr. Sakamoto, I know that it is not the most ingratiating thing to be seen 'colluding' with us given the tensions."
"Yes, there are many around the city who continue to suspect the Brotherhood to be occupying the city under false pretenses." John replied. He momentarily froze, realizing that he had once again spoken without thinking. Just as the Scribe cocked an eyebrow, John continued without waiting for a response. "That is, people are cagey given the warship floating over their homes. It has been weeks since you all arrived and very little has changed. There is much uncertainty as to what purpose you may have for the Pitt." The Scribe's eyes flicked over to the Elder who had yet to speak but was watching John studiously.
"Yes…" Angharad said cautiously. "Well, the nature of strength is to be questioned and regarded with skepticism. I would be surprised if people such as the free slaves of the Pitt would welcome the Brotherhood with open arms."
"Quite." John agreed quickly. The two men seemed unnerved by the confusion. The anxiety confused John. If anything, the Scribe should be sure of his position and what they wanted here. Only John should be confused but it seemed like the Scribe was equally unsure or at least confused. They both eyed the bearded Elder waiting for cues on how to proceed.
"What is your role within the city, Mr. Sakamoto?" Scribe Angharad continued. "I understand that every citizen receives a work certificate after completing an aptitude test?"
"Yes, every citizen is expected to take the GOAT when completing schooling or when requesting reassignment." John answered. "I finished school recently and have been working as researcher at the Haven library."
"A library? You call that room with three bookshelves a library?" Scribe Angharad smiled. John did not return it.
"Yes, most of the people here cannot read and the slavers that ran the city before burned or sold the books that existed. My job was to restore what could be restored or at least to recompile the scraps that could be recovered. We do not have much in this city, Scribe Angharad, but we do try to make do." John retorted. The Scribe relaxed his gaze and made a face that suggested he realized his slight.
"I meant no offense." the Scribe explained. "I'm afraid I am more accustomed to grander collections. It was my mistake."
"Perhaps in the Capital or in that airship of yours you are accustomed to having easy access to knowledge of the old world, I'm sure." John continued. "I will have you know the Wanderer has made enormous contributions to the library ensuring that we are able to work with the best at our disposal."
"Surely, you could have purchased or bartered for books, why is the library so limited then?" Angharad leaned forward, obviously interested in the line of thought.
"Magazines and fiction books are unfortunately easy to find. The Old World printed so many copies that reconstructing such works are relatively simple. If you walk down Market Street, you might find a few stalls and shops that specialize in recreating the stories from those books. They are simple but the Wanderer has worked hard to supply them."
"So then what is the purpose of the library? You lend and collect books, do you not?"
"I did not spend much time there so I can only speak from my limited perspective." John clasped his hands across his chest. He was as absorbed in explaining as Angharad was in listening. "But the Wanderer believed that the city would one day need to live and grow without him. He spent years guiding our people and leading us but he claimed to the first Librarians that there would come a day where he would leave and be called elsewhere. So he dedicated what time he could to retrieving 'rare' books of knowledge and instructed us how to repair and recollect the knowledge stored within. We restore lost knowledge in our library, Scribe."
"Perhaps we will have to take another look at this library then." Angharad spoke, looking over at the Elder. Meanwhile, the bearded man who appeared to have been watching the two without blinking or breathing merely nodded before sitting up straight. Angharad caught the Elder's eyes before looking back at John.
"Why did you leave this institution then?" he asked. "You seem passionate for this work. Was it unfulfilling? Were the rewards few?" John shook his head.
"While I enjoy studying and learning from the librarians, I never joined to further my knowledge or to work with books." John explained. "I wanted to meet with the Wanderer."
"Meet him? Was he hard to meet?" Angharad frowned. "I mean, he ran the city, surely he must have been around."
"The Wanderer has little time for maintaining the city. He split his time between searching the city ruins for useful technology or things of that like, training his vanguard, and some secret project inside the hotel."
"The Haven Hotel? He spend a lot of time there?" Angharad asked. John nodded in response.
"So, you could say he was a constant presence but also he rarely spent much time around other people in this city. He spent most of his time working and delegated responsibilities to others to maintain and run the city." Angharad stroked his chin and seemed to ponder the information. "But this should be easily acquirable knowledge. Why are you asking me all this?"
"I have heard much about you, Mr. Sakamoto." the bearded man suddenly spoke. His voice was severe but calm. It almost cut through the air, silencing both Angharad and John at once. "Knight-Sergeant Calhoun speaks highly of you."
"Thank you, Elder….?" John searched for a name, unsure if he had been introduced.
"Maxson. My name is Arthur Maxson." the Elder spoke, leaning forward. His face was now illuminated by the lightbulb hanging over their table. The first thing John noticed were the scars that lined the Elder's face. Scars that were hidden by the beard and by the fur hat when they met outside. " I am in need of a man of your talents."
"Talents?" John asked. "I'm nobody, I left my work assignment and enlisted in the echelon." John furrowed his brow, he was confused why military officers would single him out for his "talents" of all things, especially when his drilling performance was so poor.
"Your aptitude scores were made available to us by your city's Council last week. Is it true that your GOAT matched you to the occupation of Assistant Researcher with 'Very High' certainty?" Angharad asked, tossing the relevant documents onto the table. John snatched them and began rifling through them with his fingers.
"Yes. Is that significant?" John asked,
"Have you heard of many others being referred to this position?" John shrugged in response. Angharad reached under the table and produced an egg crate full of manila folders. He began flicking through files and began tossing some of the thicker folders onto the table. He read the names as the folder flopped onto the table. Some of them, John recognized and others he did not. There was a pattern with most of them. Very few were judged with "Very High" certainty ratings. Even fewer were documented to having been reviewed by the Wanderer himself.
John flipped over his manila folder and found a blood red stamp that marked its presentation for the city's champion. "MARKED FOR THE OFFICE OF JAMES YOUNG".
"So what is this then? Is this to see why I chose to be assigned to the position of librarian?" John asked. The two men sitting opposite nodded.
"They say your work assignment in this city can make the difference between an easy life in the hotel or a life of labor on the outskirts. You would have been a stone's throw away from the Council, from seeing the Wanderer as some of your letters here have documented. Your SPECIAL scores are well beyond the average of the pupils tested in the schools here. So then I must ask, what is your goal?"
"I simply want to meet with the Wanderer." John answered. "I want to know what makes this city worth saving and investing in? I want to know what guides him."
"You wish you know his history?" Angharad asked. John shrugged.
"It's a start."
"A meeting can be arranged." Elder Maxson spoke again, suddenly cutting in once more. "But I need your assistance for a project before I will agree to do so."
"What would you have me do?" John asked. He was skeptical to the value of any deal with the Brotherhood but he weighed the prospects of seeing the Wanderer again now that he had secluded himself from public life.
"You are uniquely positioned to correct some discrepancies within our understanding of this city's history. We can provide access to all the documents within our archives, both here and in the Capital Archive if need be. You have access to information and connections that we Brotherhood do not and may not ever possess. If you can provide the answers to our questions, I will be happy to introduce you to your city's champion." The Elder proposed. John frowned.
"That would depend on what you decide to do after having these answers. I'm always happy to discuss history and to learn it but what do you want to know and what will you do once you know?" John asked. The Elder's expression darkened. From the beginning, he seemed an honest man but his new expression introduced a new variable to John's reading of the bearded Elder.
"I want to know exactly how the Trog affliction was removed from this city." Maxson replied quickly. John was confused as to why such a question necessitated such resentment from the Elder but he saw no problem with seeking the answer.
"The Wanderer cured it." John replied, matter-of-factly.
"That's the discrepancy, Mr. Sakamoto." Angharad pitched in. "Your Council's records indicate that the Wanderer fashioned a vaccine using Brotherhood assets and expertise but had difficulty completely ridding it from the city. For months after the vaccine's creation, case numbers lingered in the hundreds. Then suddenly, zero."
"Zero?" John asked.
"Zero." The Elder confirmed.
"The curious thing is how the difficult disease appeared to be completely eradicated and then the subsequent data continues to read zero in weekly entries up until the week we arrived in force to the city." Scribe Angharad explained. "You see, one could understand if the Council had stopped collecting the data or they were more lax with tracking the disease. Instead, someone has been tracking the contagion since its eradication in 2279 up to now in 2282. And you can see who was the collector if you want." Angharad handed the documents to John, who confirmed that the data collection and the relevant reports had been personally collected and reviewed by James Young personally and signed in his handwriting. John furrowed his brow. He had learned that the disease once affected the city but as he had arrived with some of the newer waves of settlers, he had learned that it affected the citizens long ago. He was under the impression that the disease had been long eradicated.
"I don't care where your loyalties lie or what your reasons are for meeting with your champion, Mr. Sakamoto." the Elder spoke once more. He was now standing over John's shoulder, his eyes studying the documents as well. "If you wish to simply meet him and you want to use the Brotherhood to do so, then by all means, I will be happy to help you. But we are here on a mission and the first part comes with determining how Mr. Young 'saved' this city from contagion."
"Why is that a concern of the Brotherhood's?" John asked, looking up at the Elder. "Is your mission not to secure and protect technology."
"Of course." Scribe Angharad replied quickly, pushing his glasses up as he did so. "We believe that the Wanderer, James Young, has secured some kind of technology that enabled him to perform this miracle. We only wish to identify this device if true and collect it for study and protection."
"And he has chosen not to cooperate." the Elder answered before John could think to ask. "Therefore, we must find the answers on our own. No crime has been committed yet therefore, no judgment can be made against the city. So we instead simply want to learn and then we will decide what to do from there."
"So then, the Brotherhood has not come to enact another Scourge?" John asked. Scribe Angharad chuckled.
"Where on earth did you hear this nonsense?" He laughed. "Far from it. We are here to save this city if it needs saving and protecting as it needs protecting. We are not animals, we act with reason and with strong evidence."
"And I want you to see if there is any evidence, Mr. Sakamoto." Elder Maxson continued. "Make your city's history make sense and there will be no problems. We only move in this way because of the difficulties with the Wanderer." John looked up at the two men before looking back down at the folders once more.
"Where do I begin?" John asked the two men.
