noct
patreon
218. Politics at the Dinner Party
🕑 Added 2024-11-14 15:00:07 +0000 UTCThe young man smiled at him, waiting for his response.
Across the table, Ike finally made eye contact with Shawn. Shawn gestured at Ike’s partner. Talk!
But what do I say? Ike mouthed back.
Just don’t be stupid!
“It’s not very polite to be distracted,” the young man warned him. His smile drooped.
Ike snapped back to the young man. He laughed lightly. “Ah, I’m sorry. It’s just, you asked such a deep question, I had to take a moment to think of my reply. I apologize if I seemed distracted.”
The young man’s smile returned. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. Of course. Take your time. I want to hear your answer.”
Internally, Ike grimaced. If it hadn’t been clear before, it was clear now. The young man wouldn’t be satisfied with a light, dismissive answer. He wanted a deep, serious answer that took all the implications of the question into consideration. Not the right answer, but Ike’s answer—yet delivered in a way that the young man would find palatable.
Ah. Not simply manners, but politics. This isn’t merely ‘act correctly for a dinner.’ This is ‘use a dinner to put forth your stance, or defend your stance, without upsetting your partner.’ In other words, the ultimate human bullshit: politics. He glanced at Wisp, not sure how she’d hold up.
Wisp narrowed her eyes at her partner. “Haaa? Eliminate all monsters? Are you insane? Listen, let me lay it out for you…”
She’s already got this. Well, in Wisp attitude, but anyways… Then, Mag? He looked in the other direction.
Mag held his spoon tight, gripping it in a death grip. Nonetheless, he sat up tight and squared his shoulders, looking down at his opponent with a haughty attitude. “As the king of birds, you’ve severely underestimated the importance of birds. Not only do we take on pests, bugs, rodents, and spiders, but also—”
Ike raised his brows. Shockingly, Mag also had it in hand. Am I actually the weak link in our party? Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the man before him. “Mortals in our cities, right?”
“Right.”
“If we don’t have them, where does the next generation of mages come from? I never see many mage children in the cities. We can’t count on the mages to create new mages. We need to seek talent from the mortals who live at the foot of the city,” Ike argued. That sounds reasonable to me. After all, isn’t that how mages think? There’s no point arguing about the mortals. Better to point out the benefits of mortals to the mages.
The man frowned. “Is that all? If that’s the only point, then why not let them loose into the wild? We can search far and wide for new mages. We don’t need to rest or eat. We can scour the world for fresh mages at any point. Why keep them so close?”
Ike stiffened. Set them loose? Out into the world? Like his mother, who had died in the wild? And she was a weak mage. Mortals stood no chance. “If we turn them loose, the monsters will eat them all. We need to support them and keep them safe, so that they can thrive.”
“What difference does it make to us if a few mortals die? The strong ones will survive. In fact, isn’t that better for us? If we loose them into the wilds, nature will winnow out the weak ones. Then we won’t have to support all the weak, pointless mortals who will never become mages. We can spend the coin we waste on building walls around them on providing more training for our mages and researching more powerful spells.”
“Just because they aren’t mages this generation, doesn’t mean they won’t produce mages the next generation. It’s foolish to cast all mortals aside because they aren’t all useful to us. The money for walls is nothing. A one-time cost, that we leave to the mortals to maintain. When it comes to maintaining mortals, it isn’t about the mages we obtain right now. It’s about the future. The sustain. We can’t short-sightedly throw mortals away right now because only two out of a thousand might become mages. We need to cultivate them for the future, so that we can obtain the lasting devotion of those two mages.
“Think of it this way: do you want the strongest upcoming mage to look up to you with devotion and absolute worship because you protected the last five generations of his family? Or do you want her to hate you, because you rescued her, and only her, out of the jaws of a powerful monster, while leaving the rest of her family to die?”
The young man smiled. “Well put. I never thought of making the mortals maintain the wall. They can’t keep the barrier running, but I suppose that’s good practice for our low-level mages.”
He leaned forward, knitting his fingers. “So tell me, Ike. You were raised in the safety of a city’s walls. And yet, you offer your city no allegiance. How did that come to be? Why do you see the city as your enemy, even though, by your own argument, you ought to offer it devotion and absolute worship?” He spread his hands. “After all, we don’t want to waste all our time and money to preserve the lives of mortals, only for them to turn about and bite the hand that feeds.”
“Bite the hand—” Ike caught himself. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He dared a glance at the young man, to find a smirk waiting on his face. This was what the young man wanted. For him to burst out. Get emotional. Shout. To win here, he had to remain calm. No matter what the young man said, he couldn’t rise to the bait. It was like being in a fight. The young man was taunting him, feinting, trying to trick him into becoming emotional and making a fatal mistake. If he gave in, he was dead. Instead, he had to riposte. Parry the man’s blows. Ignore his feints. Only then would he win this battle.
Ike laughed lightly. “Bite the hand that feeds! What a fanciful expression. No, no. I disagree.”
“Disagree? Is that not what happened?” the young man asked, tilting his head.
“Not at all. In fact, I would put forth my experience as an example of what not to do—a way to do exactly what you claim to fear: throw away the money we would spend on mortals.”
“How so? It seems like a textbook example of exactly what you described.”
“No, no. You misunderstand. For the strategy to work properly, the mortals must see a path upward. Yes, the mages will stand far over the mortals. There’s no denying this. Even if we were to force them to live alongside one another, the mages, by the very properties of their existence, would be far greater than the mortals. So there is no problem in letting the mages and mortals live apart. I would even argue that it’s natural.
“However, to sever all lines between mortals and mages, to allow no route from mortal to mage—that is when you brew resentment. In the city I grew up in, there was no possibility for any mortal to ascend to magehood. Not without more money than the mortals could acquire, or connections with mages already in the upper city. For the average mortal, magehood was beyond hope. And I was one of those average mortals, the lowliest of the low, buried in the slums. To see those mages fluttering overhead and know that I would die without ever having the smallest chance to become , truly, one of them. Even if I bought a skill—which cost more than I would make in my life—it would be the weakest tier. At best, I would die, unknown and alone, like my mother did. There was no safety offered to mortals. Instead, mages could kill us as they willed. We lived at our own risk. We had a wall, but no more. We were not guaranteed safety. Security.”
The young man tilted his head. “Then, not only would you have us build walls, but also protect mortals?”
“It’s the only way. Either that, or we pit ourselves against mortals. Certainly, mages would win that contest, but it would be a self-defeating victory.”
“Pyrrhic,” the young man corrected.
“Huh?”
“A pyrrhic victory.”
“Yes, that. We would be cutting our own legs out from under us. Destroying our future for our present. You already allowed that mages do not create mages at a fast enough rate to provide for future mages.”
“All mages know that,” the young man agreed.
“To toss mortals aside is to toss aside our own future. It isn’t simple to keep them safe, but it is worth it. I believe that deeply. No matter whether I’m weak or strong, I’ll always believe that.”
“Then, if you were to rule a city… what would you do?”
Ike smiled. This time, the young man had played into his hands. He lowered his head, spreading his hands to allow the man his due. “I might not rule a city, but I am deeply friends with someone who does. I’m currently wandering the land, searching for those who might need a place to thrive. If I found them, I would bring them back to that city, where they will be kept safe and allowed a place to grow in prosperity as well as magic power within that city’s impregnable walls. If mortals wish to grow, they will have a place to grow in our city. The possibility to purchase skills will be readily available. Mortals will be allowed to fight for their future through their own strength and compatibility with skills, rather than chosen via the preferences of elite mages.”
The young man laughed. “An idealistic take, but one I cannot hate. I hope you can find your future.” He faded away, and no one sat opposite Ike.
Ike blinked. He looked around. “Did I win…?” He looked down at his empty plate. He hadn’t even been served his first course yet!
Comments
Tom C
Ike the diplomat debater! Who’d have thunk it 😂 TFTC!
