I was born in Hallifax to a good family, a long line of loyal and competent scientists. I was educated in the customary way for one of my class. Having excelled in my studies, I joined the scientific caste and made a name for myself as a promising young researcher in the life sciences. Thus did I serve the Collective in my early adulthood, and thus did I expect to serve it for the rest of my life.

 

 

 

I was propelled into high society by my achievements in the laboratory. After attending countless balls and luncheons, I fell in love with another scientist from a respectable if admittedly not prominent family. She had a gentle soul, and I do not believe she would ever have been able to harm another creature. She was second in my heart, and we were married.

 

 

 

Soon enough there was a child. A boy who rather fortunately bore a stronger resemblance to his mother than to me. When he was young, we realized that he was not a particularly bright child, and that he would never take a place among the highest castes. As he grew older, we found that his only virtue was his undying devotion to the Collective, and that was enough for me to love him.

 

 

 

I loved my family, but I loved the Collective above all else. When an unfortunate laboratory accident claimed my wife, I did not weep for her. How could I? She died serving the Collective in the noblest of capacities. There is no better way to pass from the world, and my grief was conquered by the knowledge that her death was the right and proper way for a Hallifaxian to die.

 

 

 

A few short years after my wife returned to the Fates, my son came of age. He employed himself in the military profession, joining one of the mercenary companies that Hallifax so often employed. It was not the noblest of trades, but I could not dissuade him. He often fought for the Collective, and sometimes for other nations, but he never bore arms against our most noble of cities.

 

 

 

There came a time when his company was hired to bear arms against Hallifax. I do not know who paid for the company's services, but I have long suspected that the emperor of Celest was hoping to discreetly weaken Hallifax in the hopes of later bringing us into his empire. When the order came to march against the city, my son refused. He led a mutiny against his captain rather than bear arms against the Collective. His mutiny failed, and his captain nailed him to a tree. I will not say that rebellion is virtuous, but at times it can be a necessary evil. My son was willing to make a traitor of himself and disgrace his name to defend the Collective, and for that I loved him. He died well, and I did not weep when I heard the news.

 

 

 

Thus did my family perish for the good of the Collective. I never remarried. Even if I had any desire to do so, circumstances would have prevented me. I threw myself into my work, striving to develop new methods for treating the sick and easing their suffering. I caught the eye of many powerful people, people who offered me positions of great influence in the Collective. I refused all of them. Politics are a stain upon the soul. It is a pity that we must have leaders, for of all members of the Collective they are the most corruptible.

 

 

 

When I had lived for thirty-five years, my son having died two years before, a certain Zheli Skyfeather began to accumulate many such offices. He was never entrusted with any position of great formal power, but through the collection of many minor offices and the granting of special rights through the clever application of beaurocracy he gained great power. I pity him, for I have little doubt that he was a true servant of the Collective before he succumbed to vice.

 

 

 

Zheli's corruption began with physical pleasures. He abandoned the restraint and propriety that every gentleman of the Collective should embrace, instead indulging his gluttony and sloth, surrounding himself with the fairest women that the lower castes could offer and thereby denying their labor to the Collective. That was reason enough to weep for his failings, but overindulgence was not his only sin. He thirsted for more and more power, and his actions drove the higher castes and the Collective's assorted magistrates to form factions that divided the city. For a short time the political strife was kept discreet, being limited to harsh words between bureaucrats. All too soon, it devolved into violence.

 

 

 

Thankfully, it was not open warfare. The physical conflict began with the assassination of a few of Zheli's supporters by overzealous, if somewhat nobler, Hallifaxians. Zheli responded by forming a private police force, which was followed by many of his enemies having unfortunate and lethal accidents.

 

 

 

I did not disgrace myself by choosing a side in this battle. I thought that no man who spilled his comrade's blood could possibly be a good man. That thought saved my life, as I was spared from the purges and assassinations. I watched as the strife threatened to grow more public and threaten the integrity of the Collective.

 

 

 

I think that Zheli understood that he had to end the conflict quickly. His purges grew faster and more thorough. Soon enough, the majority of his enemies were dead and the remainder had gone into hiding. Fearing for my life, and hoping that I could remain virtuous and safeguard our traditions from that destructive and base man, I fled into exile.

 

 

 

It was not the bravest of things that I could have done, but I think it was the wisest. Anything that could help to end the power struggle was good for the Collective as a whole. If Zheli felt the need to purge those who had stayed neutral in the conflict, he would have one less man to slaughter. My exile would also ensure that the knowledge of proper Hallifaxian virtues could not be exterminated if Zheli tried to execute all but his corrupt followers. It was not an easy or pleasant thing to do, but I did what was necessary.

 

 

 

I loved the Collective, more than my wife, my son, or my life itself. I had not wept when I was parted from my family, but I could not help but shed a tear when I sneaked out from the city in the dead of night. I paused to look back upon the city many times, but eventually it faded from view. When I first turned back towards my beloved Hallifax and found that it was hidden from my sight, I fell upon my knees and sobbed for hours. It was disgraceful to show such emotions, to allow myself to be overcome by my feeling, but I was too weak to control my feelings. My exile began with tears.

 

 

 

I had taken my leave from Hallifax without any thought as to where I would go. It was a disgraceful oversight, but I was not at my best. Even if the choice to leave one's homeland is made rationally, one cannot help but allow his emotions to force him to forget something. My error was in not planning the step after I began my exile.

 

 

 

I spent the first weeks of my exile in an inn that was not too far from Hallifax. While I lived at that inn I abstained from drinking, gambling, and the other vices that had taken hold of the place. While I no longer lived in Hallifax, I was not inclined to take part in such base activities. I stayed in my room and tried to collect my thoughts.

 

 

 

After those few weeks I began to run short on money. I had not concerned myself with growing wealthy while I had lived in Hallifax, and I had very little money to take with me when I left. I became apparent that I would have to find some sort of work to sustain myself, but it also became apparent that it is exceedingly difficult for a scientist to find employment outside of the Collective. I only had one option, and I took it. I signed on with a mercenary company, specifically the Quartzwing Company. While I had no knowledge of swordplay or battle tactics, that was not particularly out of the ordinary for new recruits, and I had an adequate knowledge of medicine with which to make myself useful.

 

 

 

The profession of arms did not suit me particularly well, but it was sufficient to earn my bread. The Quartzwing Company fought in a variety of small conflicts between villages and minor governments, preferring the lower risk associated with such engagements to the higher potential for payment from the major powers. That preference was sufficient to keep us from fighting either for or against the Collective for the bulk of my time in the Company, for which I was exceedingly grateful.

 

 

 

My primary duties within the Company were of a medical nature. While I was not a fully trained medical doctor, I had the basic understanding of medicine that all students of the life scientists acquire in their early training. My new comrades within the Company were quite fond of me, as is only proper given that I saved many of their lives during and after battles.

 

 

 

However, from time to time I was called to serve in the line of battle. My first taste of bloodshed came when the Company had been placed under a contract to settle a feud between one village in one of the colder and snowier parts of the mountains and its nearest neighbor. The village that we marched against was full of Tae'dae, and furthermore they were a population that was known for its ferocity. The captain decided that it would be necessary for all members of the Company that were fit for battle to engage the enemy.

 

 

 

I took my place with the rest of the Company as we began the attack. The enemy did not meet us until we were nearly within their village, and as such the battle was not an orderly affair, but rather an unpleasantly chaotic brawl between the buildings. Our enemies put up a fierce resistance, and the snow was stained red with nearly as much of our blood as of theirs. The battle lasted perhaps an hour before the remainder of our enemies offered their surrender, which we gladly accepted.

 

 

 

In that battle, I was responsible for a single death. I returned one Tae'dae, whose fur had gone silver with age, to the fates. I knew nothing about him except that his death would be necessary if he refused to yield. I gave him the chance to put down his weapons and preserve his life. He refused me, and as such I had no choice put to spill his blood.

 

 

 

It was a pointless conflict. It had started over some petty romance between the children of prominent members of the two societies which were involved, when their parents objected to the match. One child eloped to the other village, the father called it a kidnapping, and war broke off. It was a petty quarrel, one that could easily have been avoided if the people involved had only been reasonable. Alas that their irrationality brought war upon them.

 

 

 

Such was my life for a single, seemingly endless year. I had signed my contract with the company for that period, and I declined to renew it. I had saved the greater part of my wages, and that afforded me the opportunity to retire from the distasteful military profession and seek a better life. At the time I had no plans, but I knew that I could not bear to take part in such petty conflicts for even one more year.

 

 

 

During my year in the Quartzfeather company, I fought in seven battles and served purely as a healer in fifteen. In those battles I was responsible for the deaths of nine innocent men. Those men were no better or worse than the ones for whom I fought, and their deaths were regrettable. However, I cannot shed tears for the deaths of people who were not of the Collective. The only tragedy in their loss is that they died without finding the proper way of life and joining the Collective. Just as I ended nine lives, I saved nearly one hundred others. I healed those who were injured without regard for their allegiance, so long as they were no longer a threat. In doing so, I returned children to their parents and lovers to their beloved, and made several allies from those who had been my foes. I preached Collectivism to any who would listen, and set three people on the path to a better life in the Collective. Over the course of my membership in the Company I learned to suppress the hope of redeeming those who were opposed to me and end their lives. Such were my deeds as a member of the Quartzwing Company.

 

 

 

Having abandoned the pursuit of war, I once again had to find a way to spend my time. After I had spent some time in considering my options, I decided to travel to Celest and see what I might find there. I had no goal in mind for when I arrived, but it was one of the largest cities in the Basin and I reasoned that if there was any comfort for me to be found outside the Collective, I would find it in Celest.

 

 

 

My journey to the city could have gone better. Not more than two days out from Celest, I encountered a brigand upon the road. He ensured that I was parted from the bulk of my savings, although I had a small pouch of gold hidden on my person that he did not find. And so I entered Celest as a pauper.

 

 

 

While Celest is not home to the most rational or intelligent of populations, they are generally charitable and occasionally hospitable. I found that I was quite welcome within the city, and when I had settled myself into a local inn I was met by quite a few of the locals who pressed me to tell me story. I told them of my time in the Quartzfeather Company, seeing no harm in sharing that section of my life. They could tell by my accent that I had been raised in Hallifax, but I was not so forthcoming with my reasons for leaving. To make other powers aware of the Collective's internal difficulties could have been disastrous.

 

 

 

If I had cared to avoid the attention of the local authorities, my discretion regarding the Collective's internal politics would have been insufficient to do so. While I slept soundly in my bed during my first night in Celest, I was awoken early the next morning by a pair of Merian gentlemen. They spoke gently, claiming to be friends, but I am wary of calling any man a friend if he insists on wearing a sword when he calls upon me.

 

 

 

They invited me to attend a dinner party with local official of some importance. An officer in the Paladins, although not one of particularly high rank. He nonetheless had the authority to set armed men upon me if he saw fit to do so, and I drew the obvious conclusion that the invitation was not optional. I decided that it was better to attend this alleged party rather than take my chances with the Paladins.

 

 

 

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the dinner party was, in fact, a dinner party and not a prison cell. The officer was an excellent host, and we dined upon the assorted items of seafood that pass for cuisine in Celest. It was not entirely without charm, even if it was lacking by the standards of Hallifaxian dining.

 

 

 

My host spent the greater part of the evening questioning me regarding my past. At the time I thought that he was trying to learn what risk, if any, I posed to his city without resorting to such unpleasant methods as torture to extract information from me. I told him of my time as a mercenary, just as I had told the people in the inn. That was not sufficient for him, and he insisted on me telling him why I left Hallifax.

 

I could not do that, of course. Even though I was in exile I could not do anything that would place my homeland at risk. Only one course of action remained to me. I had to lie about my past. Falsehood is unbecoming of a scientist, and I disgraced myself by telling lies, but there was nothing else to be done. It was better to shame myself than to harm the Collective.

 

 

 

I told him that I had been a political prisoner within the Collective, which appealed to his irrational prejudices and was not so far removed from the truth. I explained that when I and several others were taken from our holding areas to perform heavy labor in the wilderness for the purposes of reeducation, I made my escape. I spun a tale of daring action, danger, and adventure that ended with me joining up with a band of mercenaries.

 

 

 

He loved my story. It had everything that a man of his order is trained to love. It was a tale of courage and resistance to what he at least would perceive to be tyranny. I do not think he even entertained the possibility that I could have been lying. I was grateful that the warriors of Celest were so gullible, and that I had made an ally of a man who could have been my enemy.

 

 

 

His affections were quite useful in the following days. He set me up in a fine house at his own expense, and he used his political connections to find me a place in the priesthood. It was a position that I accepted without complaint. Even if I could no longer live within my beloved Collective, at least I could devote my time to something larger than myself. It was a slim connection, but I cherished it. I also held the hope that I could discreetly spread Collectivist values into the population of Celest, that some day it might be assimilated into the Collective.

 

 

 

In hindsight that was a fool's dream. The people of Celest were too indoctrinated with their primitive religion to abandon it in favor of a more rational lifestyle. At the time, however, I was content, and I fully applied myself to advancement within the order of the Celestines. In excelled in my theological studies, for such subjects seem quite simple to a man who has been educated in the sciences. My teachers were pleased with my progress, and I was soon ordained.

 

 

 

It was after my ordination that I first found myself in the presence of one of the Supernals. It was customary among the Celestines to take one of those strange creatures as a personal patron when he completed his training, and I devoted myself to Raziela. The Celestines take her to be a being of pure and selfless love, something which is quite familiar to a member of the Collective. Raziela was flawed, however, in that her love was untempered by reason. Love cannot build a society on its own.

 

 

 

Still, her teachings had some appeal. I had long thought that the Collective had no enemies, only friends who had temporarily lost their way who would one day be assimilated into the glorious Collective. However, I understood that sometimes those misguided friends had to be destroyed for the good of those who had already seen reason and joined the Collective. It was a pity, and something to be mourned, but it was inevitable.

 

 

 

I spent many hours meditating in the presence of my newfound patron. I found some comfort in her presence, but I could not stop myself from pondering her teachings. The longer I meditated upon them, the less sense they made. There were no restraints on her love. There was no place for reason, or for the regrettable necessity of withholding forgiveness to those who it is too dangerous to forgive. In the end I could no longer take her seriously, and I could not understand how others could do so either.

 

 

 

I turned to the other Supernals before whom the Celestines are in the habit of grovelling. None of them were any more reasonable than Raziela. All of their teachings were somewhat reasonable, but they all fell short of attaining perfection in the manner of Collectivist philosophy. Their teachings were generally disjointed and incomplete, and where there was an attempt at unity they became riddled with irrationalities and flawed conclusions.

 

 

 

I had temporarily followed the Supernals because I took comfort in believing in something, having been parted from my comrades. It was only a matter of time before my rational mind took over once again, and I was forced to put such emotional concerns aside. I stopped visiting the Supernals. I continued my duties at the pulpit, but my sermons grew weaker and weaker.

 

 

 

My superiors in the priesthood soon decided that I should be removed from all public duties. I was no longer the successful propagandist that they wanted me to be. I was reassigned to the library, where I performed clerical duties better suited to a common secretary. They told me it was to be a temporary assignment, lasting only as long as it took me to become myself once more.

 

 

 

They were, at least, correct in that statement. I found that there was a great deal of time to think when I was performing unskilled labor. It did not take very long for me to conclude that I had no business staying in the priesthood or grovelling before the Supernals. That meant that I also had no business staying in Celest, for one does not forsake their faith without also forsaking the city.

 

 

 

It seemed as though there was no hope of happiness for me outside of the Collective. I had sampled the miseries of warfare and felt the inadequacy of simple faith. I longed to return to my comrades. I thought that I might be able to rejoin the Collective under a new name in some menial capacity that was unlikely to lead to political strife. Recognizing that it might lead to my death at the hands of a misguided member of the Collective, I left Celest in the dead of night and made the journey back to Hallifax.

 

 

 

 

When I returned to Hallifax, I took on a false name and submitted myself to the usual immigration procedures, hoping that I would not be recognized. I claimed to be a scholar from Celest, a refugee who had been chased from his home by misguided fools because he had seen reason and preached Collectivism. It was not the biggest lie that I had told in my life, although it was a lie nonetheless and I disgraced myself in speaking it. However, it was necessary if I was to avoid catching the eye of the authorities, and I had long since lost my fear of personal disgrace.

 

 

 

Thankfully the bureaucrats accepted my story. It was not implausible. The Collective received a steady influx of refugees who were fleeing from the irrationality of their own homelands. I was duly processed and admitted to the Collective, and soon found myself sent to be reeducated and to have my personal aptitudes assessed, as was customary.

 

 

 

It was there that I met with my first surprise. The officer in charge of my aptitude tests was a former colleague of mine. He had been a respected medical researcher, a rising star in the field. I guessed that he had caught the eye and the displeasure of Zheli and found himself reassigned to this post, usually reserved for those who fail out of their scientific or artistic education.

 

 

 

He recognized me, just as I had recognized him. He said that I had failed my aptitude tests, and that there was no hope of me ever being more than a servant. He seemed to lie easily, without shame or hesitation. That is not a respectable skill, but it was a useful one. He arranged for me to be given over to his keeping as an indentured servant, and it was from him that I learned of the Collective's condition.

 

 

 

Zheli had disgraced himself even further in the time that I had been gone. He was steadily destroying everything that made Hallifax great and glorious as opposed to that which merely made it efficient. The sciences stagnated, since he persecuted any who rose to prominence without clearly being in his personal service. The government was struggling to balance the budget as he pulled more and more money from necessary ministries to fund his personal pleasures. Any artist whose work offended him had an unfortunate accident or at the very least found themselves in a new occupation. As such all arts were neglected save for the more inelegant forms of dance, which he patronized with great pleasure. Thankfully the lower classes has not yet felt the effects of his reign, but it was only a matter of time before they too suffered under him, for even the lower castes cannot stay blind to such affairs forever. I wept to hear what had become of the Collective under his rule.

 

 

 

I was not the only man who wept in those days. There were a few people in Hallifax who were aware of Zheli's failings as a leader and who had not been killed or forced to flee. They had been driven into positions in the lower castes, a great indignity for men of science, but they had the pleasure of remaining within the Collective. They had taken to meeting to discuss the unpleasant state of affairs, and I was introduced to them.

 

 

 

Their meetings were nothing more than a time to mourn for the Collective. It was as though they held a funeral every week, as though they had given up all hope of saving Hallifax. It was easy to understand why they had done so, just as I had given up hope when I went into exile. I became one of them, but as the weeks passed I began to lose patience with mourning. I felt that it was my duty to free the Collective from the fool who was destroying it.

 

 

 

The others had never even considered it. Understandably so, for what good comrade of the Collective would contemplate such things? It was, after all, treason. I suppose that I had been corrupted by my time spent outside of the Collective, for I was prepared to strike against my superior within the Collective. It would be the highest of all sins, and it would destroy the last shred of personal honor and dignity that I had left. But no man should value his honor over the good of the Collective. I could not have made that choice before I had left, when I still had some measure of personal honor to cherish. My exile had taught me of my capacity to disgrace myself, and it was the time for me to exploit that capacity for the Collective.

 

 

 

I convinced the others to join me and to do their duty to the Collective. It would not have occurred to them to abandon their honor and commit treason for the greater good, but they were reasonable men and prepared to listen to me and follow when I explained it to them. That is to their credit. They were still honorable souls at heart.

 

 

 

The first order of business was to assess our position. We were perhaps a dozen artists and scientists, and of us only I had been trained in the art of war. Our enemy controlled the government and the support of every prominent member of the Collective. The secret police, both those who were lawful and those who he had personally recruited, answered to him. Our position appeared to be hopeless, but we were prepared to gamble on the slightest chance.

 

 

 

We began by searching for the scum of the Collective, those who only kept to their proper place in life because others kept them there. We searched for those who could be bought and tempted. I am ashamed to say that we found them. We found a few good men who would have seen necessity and joined us, but we were not willing to destroy good men when bad ones would suffice.

 

 

 

The next order of business was to gather the funds to pay out bribes to the pathetic men that we had found. We robbed the public treasury for the purpose of raising money, stealing by stealth and by force. We consoled ourselves by saying that they money was destined to feed Zheli's depraved appetites and that we were diverting it to its proper purpose, that of supporting the Collective. I have no doubt that that was at least partly true, but we would have been deluded if we forgot that we undoubtedly robbed our comrades as well.

 

 

 

Having robbed the Collective, we had the funds we needed to raise our forces. We bought the corrupt servants, and sent them to be trained in violence by the Quartzwing company. When they returned, several members of the company, men whose lives I had saved, returned with them. They pledged themselves to our purpose, and I was grateful for their support.

 

 

 

Thus did we establish our forces so that we could begin our war. We bought those members of the higher castes and of the bureaucracy that could be bought. The number was disgracefully high, but then again they had been bought by Zheli in the first place. It is all to easy to subvert a dishonest man.

 

 

 

However, many could not be bought. They were loyal to their master, or perhaps they feared his wrath. It was unfortunate, but we had no choice but to apply Zheli's own methods against them. We spared those who could be spared, but many had to die. In those cases where we could not afford the risk of being merciful, accidents were arranged. Buildings were made to collapse, and laboratory accidents were manufactured. As we grew bolder, Zheli's minions found poison in their banquets.

 

 

 

His supporters struck back. Zheli first assumed that his supporters in the upper castes had betrayed him, and there was purge after purge. He began to work his way down the hierarchy, and he was soon striking at the lower castes. To his credit he was discreet, but it was soon clear that our hidden war would come into the open air if it was not settled quickly.

 

 

 

That would tear the Collective apart and as such could not be permitted. It was necessary to strike out at Zheli himself and end the matter. It was decided that we could not rely on hired men for this. Their courage lasted only as long as they thought they would live to spend their gold, and Zheli would readily outbid us to safe his life. They could not be trusted. So it fell upon those of us who fought for the Collective rather than gold to do what was necessary.

 

 

 

We decided to attempt his assassination in one of his pleasure palaces. We changed clothes with his servants, who gladly accepted a bribe to let us take their places for an evening. We found ourselves carrying vast trays of food at one of his banquets, watching in disgust as his dancers twisted in the most vulgar of ways and as Zheli and his followers gorged themselves at the public expense. If any of us hesitated before we say that terrible sight, there could be no hesitation after.

 

 

 

As time wore on Zheli and his men grew sluggish and eventually slipped into slumber under the effects of their wine and the drugs we slipped in it. It is a pity that he fell into that most disgraceful and disgusting habit of drinking, for Zheli should have died standing and known that justice was upon him. As it was I slipped a knife into his throat and the threat to the Collective was ended. Thus died Zheli Skyfeather.

 

 

 

We hauled his body into the lower wards of the city, where we put it to the torch. He had been a tyrant, but he had nonetheless been a magistrate of the Collective, and we wept as was appropriate. My tears were all the heavier with the knowledge that he could have been a great servant of the Collective, if he had only remained a virtuous man.

 

 

 

We took the ashes to a talented artist, one who worked in glass. Zheli's remains were mixed into raw glass which was then cast into a statue of the man himself, which would forevermore stand as a memorial to the man that should have been.

 

 

 

The government soon recovered. The bureaucracy saw to it that the empty political offices were filled in an orderly manner. Most of Zheli's followers had been murdered by our hands, and those who survived were powerless with his passing. As such the new officials were honest, and all was well in the Collective.

 

 

 

However, we could not hide the fact that he had been murdered. It was all we could do to conceal the bulk of his excesses after his death. There was a criminal investigation, and it was agreed that I should allow myself to be captured and executed in order to ensure that the whole affair ended neatly. It would be my final service to the Collective. Having sacrificed my honor and my dignity for its benefit, I did not hesitate to offer my life. How could I, when life is worth so much less than virtue?

 

 

 

In a few short days I dictated this account, which was to be released long after all involved in the undignified affair had died so that the truth could be known without bringing harm or conflict to the Collective. Having done so, I go to surrender myself to the custodians of justice so that I may be condemned, have my wings cut from me, and be cast from the city to die upon the ground below. I do not think that leaving the city will be so painful the second time, for this time I go in the Collective's service. May we all aspire to die so well.