Trelagor

The paper, upon which the declaration was written, was much like any other. It was cheaper than most, letting some of the ink on it run, but as far as paper went, it did its work well. Hundreds of the same letter had been printed in the last few months since the outbreak of disease and countless riots engulfed the largest cities in the country. Only a few ports remained open, and anyone with a ship these days could make a fortune taking people away across the sea to foreign lands where they could start anew and claim a new life away from the squalor of the falling empires.


“Next!” the barely literate captain called and the queue of people shuffled along another step. The one in front placed a handful of coins on the table, picked up the quill, dipped it with an unsteady hand into the ink pot and drew a cross on the page held out to him, relieving him of his citizenship. Citizenship of his own country where his people had lived for centuries. The page was handed to an official-looking man and the command of ‘next’ was shouted again.

Another shuffle.

Mary took a slight step to the side and counted the people in front of her. Ten. She prayed that there would still be eleven places open on the ship. She drew her shawl closer about her shoulders and tightened one hand on her luggage. In the other she clutched, like the rest of the bedraggled people, a couple of coins that would pay her way onto the ship and to freedom.

Shuffle.

She had more knowledge than most of what it was like in the other land. It was new, mostly untilled with rich soil and lots of work. She had heard of the treasures brought back; of beasts and birds that now lived on the grounds of the great palace. The air was pure, not clogged with smog from factories and burning buildings from the riots. But it was always difficult to start over. Utopia was nowhere, especially not here.

Shuffle.

In the new lands a new life could be built and the shackles of the old could be thrown off. There, you could be anything you want to be.

Shuffle.

From the ship came angry shouts and Mary dared to look at the great wooden ship on the water. A few men were escorting another dressed in rags from the ship, dragging him along the gangplanks. As they passed her, she could make out the dirty guard uniforms, their once bright colours darkened with soot. The man’s wrists and ankles were encased in iron, so that he stumbled again and again. One of the guards glared at the captain sitting behind the desk.

“He’s one of them, Captain, one of them Trelagor. Heretics and witches. Vermin all of them.” Then he turned to the crowd gathered before the captain.

“I say again to you, people of Elganorë. His Majesty the King forbids all that are classified as Trelagor to leave the country, on pain of death. Those that are of mixed blood are classified as Trelagor, and they are also forbidden to leave the country. Only the pure of Elganorë may travel.” He glared at the crowd, but, being satisfied with his speech, leaves.

Mary turns her eyes to the ground as he passes her, clutching the bag tighter in her hand.

Shuffle... Shuffle...

One less man means one more space on the ship. One more space may be all she needs.

Shuffle...

Mary forces the thought of the man being hanged from her mind as she shuffled to the desk. The captain looked up at her.

“Do you declare that you are not Trelagor, but are of pure Elganorë?” he repeated the question for the umpteenth time that day.

“I do.”

“Do you declare that you are neither heretic, nor witch, nor have any contact with any such persons?”

“I do.”

“Then make your mark.” He caught her eyes and she froze, knowing that he would have seen the colour of her eyes and know her to be one of the Trelagor. Then he smiles slightly. “Make your mark, there’s many like you still waiting.”

With a trembling hand she picked up the quill and drew a cross on the page.

I wrote this piece a couple of years ago and dusted it off. It's still a favourite piece and a world I want to write more about in the future. Whether the story will follow Mary or stay behind and see what becomes of the Trelagor (and why they are hated so), or maybe even both, I will have to see.
 
I'm also polishing a world building piece on the Erewhar of Airthai. It seems they are intent on playing a much bigger part in "Price of Freedom" than I had anticipated!
 
Until next time, keep well and God bless!