A rabbit hole would surely have been more comfortable than the wood like contraption he had woken up in. Edaho knew this because he had on one occasion slept in an actual rabbit hole. The Babalawo could be woken up by the slightest of noises, so it came as no surprise when the trumpets outside did the job flawlessly. He was still dressed in the dirty tunic; which he did not plan to change. He yawned, rolling off the bed, and pulled on his sandals.
He walked over to the window and peeked out; a number of lethargic Vothlanders were moving from their houses and walking in the direction of the trumpet blasts. Edaho pulled out a chunk of dried beef from his bag and chewed, and then he took a large gulp from his alcohol bottle to stimulate his senses. The Babalawo opened the door and walked out, joining the zombies on their expedition to the trumpets. He remembered the meeting he had with the king yesterday, and how he turned down the offer.
"Excuse me, what are the trumpets for?" A little girl pulled at his tunic. She must be one of the children of the elite, Edaho thought absently. Children of the elite were not actually biological offspring of the actual influencers, but rather any child of a royal or Upper-person. These children were the future Upper-people; they would become the nobles and the controllers and the commanders. Edaho stopped to smile at the little girl, even though she could one day become head enforcer and commit the most unthinkable crimes.
"They want us to gather in the square," Edaho said, patting on her little head. "The king has to make an announcement, I presume," he added for good measure.
"Are you sure?" She asked, tilting her head. Edaho had once encountered a nasty crow which tilted its head the same way, then the dark feathered avian attacked him and almost pecked out one of his eyes. The memory still sent shivers up his shriveling spine.
"Yes, I think so." Edaho smiled, wondering if any of the Lower-people children he had earlier seen working on the farm would ever be as trim as this little girl currently looked, she must be the daughter of a rich noble.
"Hey, get your hands off my daughter." A large man said, pulling the girl away from the Babalawo. Edaho sighed and resumed his pilgrimage to the Upper-city market square. Heralds and messengers would repeat the announcements in the Lower-city as Lower-people were not allowed in Vothland without permit.
King Timion stood on a raised platform, with his personal guards at his side; he was holding a long scroll. Edaho walked over to the statue of the king-which looked nothing like the king and leaned against it. More Vothlander's filled the square as the King read from the scroll. It took Edaho's ears a while to become familiarized to what the king was saying, due to the incessant murmur of the crowd.
"The King's Elite will execute anyone suspected of conspiracy against the crown. That is the sixth rule." King Timion said and then paused to let the Vothlander's brood over the policy. Edaho could see the unease on the faces of the mumbling Vothlander's. He could only imagine what the Lower-people would do when the messengers read the same rules to them. There would surely be whippings.
"The seventh rule states that," King Timion continued. "Upper-people should not be found associating with Lower-people. If any Upper-person is caught breaking this rule, he shall become a lower-person." The Babalawo hated this rule; it didn't make any sense to him. Why would the king allow separation amongst his own subjects? He noticed one of the elite smiling behind the king; it was General Ariad, the warmonger. Although few knew him personally, the terrifying tale of how he had single-handedly taken the lives of a thousand men was lore in the village, and he did it at the age of ten. Everyone in the village had heard tales of the little warmonger-who had defended the village from the invaders in the reign of Tralluki, the king without a title, who was the father of King Timion and Arrod's great grandfather. General Ariad rarely smiled, but Edaho could see the smile on his face as King Timion read out the eighth and ninth rules.
"Any Lower-person found to be fully obedient by the King's Elite may be promoted to an Upper-person... and all children from birth must be handed over to the Enforcers to be trained in schools which suit the rank of their parents." Edaho sat at the base of the statue, which was a polished stone representation of King Timion holding up a sword. The statue had been erected for the king when he ascended the throne. The elite had championed the construction, they had to remove Tralluki's statue to make room. There should have been strings attached to his sword hand, Edaho thought, with the way he was being controlled by the so-called influencers.
"He has run mad, don't you think?" A man standing next to the Babalawo said, shaking his head.
"It's not wise to say such things in public, for the air can move voices." The Babalawo said, turning away from the man.
On the raised platform, the king read the rules. "All workers and laborers must belong to a section; sections will be given according to physique and behavior of the worker. Only workers in a section will receive rations from the stores, children in schools will receive the same rations each parent receives."
"Then I shall whisper," The man laughed. "My name is Bonny, I am a smuggler."
"And you say it with such bravery?"
"Why not, it got me here after all, you know." Bonny waved to the beautiful houses of Vothland. "Did a job for some people and got promoted to an Upper; got me a nice house up the hill."
The Babalawo tried to ignore the young man, keeping his face on the man reading from the scroll. "Lower-people workers can be promoted to Upper-people jobs if found worthy by the King's Elite. They and their Lowland family shall be given temporary residence in Vothland and their children shall be moved to Upper-school. "
"I reckon you do not have any children." The Babalawo said sourly to the man on his left.
"Not yet. Still looking for a nice girl to make mine, lots of striking women in a beautiful place like Vothland." Bonny chuckled, slapping the Babalawo's shoulder gently. Edaho hated people who couldn't laugh on their own, people who inflicted pain on others whenever they were amused.
"Any Lower-school learner who is found elsewhere shall be severely punished, their parents shall be publicly whipped with their ranks reduced or taken away. That is the thirteenth rule."
"Congratulations on your search." The Babalawo replied. He crouched to sit at the bottom of the statue.
"You know, old man, a male kangaroo is also known as an old man. Just a fact I picked up from a smuggling buddy, thought you should know."Only Upper-people have the right to a trial in the King's chamber. Lower-people are to be represented and spoken for by a member of the elite. That is the fourteenth rule." King Timion's voice boomed.
"And what gave you the impression that I would find your fact amusing?"
"Ha-ha. You are a hard nut to crack, old man." Bonny said, slapping the Babalawo's shoulder again. Gravity made his hand fall faster and the slap a bit hotter than the previous one. Touch me again and I shall turn you into a frog, Edaho would have said in the past, but he remained silent, listening.
"Anyone found hoarding properties meant for the King in his own abode shall be put to death. That is the fifteenth and last rule. Your king shall notify you whenever new laws are created. Until then, try to obey the stipulated rules or face the consequences. A copy of the rules shall be placed at the base of my statue by a member of the elite. Remember to visit it for reference purposes." The king finished and rolled up the long scroll; afterwards, he descended the platform and was escorted away from the Upper-city market square by his personal guards.
General Ariad ascended the platform immediately after the king was out of sight. He dished out orders in his usual authoritative voice, commanding all enforcers to ensure that the square was devoid of Vothlanders before the next hour.
"You better leave, smuggler, else you shall be punished." The Babalawo said to the young man. Bonny smiled, although this time it lacked the usual enthusiasm.
"That guy up there is what we need as king; no one screws with the general," Bonny said, moving away with the other Vothlanders.
"If you ask me, I think the elite are more influenza that influencer." He joked, and the air carried it to Edaho's ears.
This-unlike the man's other jokes-amused the Babalawo. He got up from the floor and began to dust the sand from his behind, with a minuscule smile on his wrinkled old face. Enforcers were already leading Vothlanders away from the square, they couldn't whip an Upper-person for they were neither Upper nor Lower, just enforcers.
Edaho adjusted his tunic again; he would need to get one that didn't get rumpled easily. The enforcers gave way and someone walked past them. It was Polymus, the Elite in charge of agents and ambassadors, and he was holding a large banner in one hand and a bottle of glue in the other.
"Good day to you, old man. Move aside." Polymus said, waving the bottle of glue at Edaho. The enforcers at either side of the elite fingered their whips. They no longer had the restraint they set aside for Vothlanders and looked ready to lash this dirty senior.
"Pardon my speed," The Babalawo said and shuffled so the young elite could stand in front of the statue.
"You may leave," Polymus said, resting the banner of rules at the base of the statue.
"I was just doing that-"
"I wasn't talking to you, old man." Polymus laughed.
"I said leave us!" The enforcers, who had more bull in them than human, took a few seconds to register the command. They turned in unison, like a confused flock of sheep, and walked off to find another shepherd who would command them. The horns that were supposed to be on the heads of the bull-men were the only things missing.
"Where did you come from? I saw you the other day, at the prince's gifting." Polymus said. He had dropped both banner and bottle and was now facing the Babalawo.
"I was born here, my lord," Edaho replied, lowering his head; thus, increasing the curvature of his spine so it now looked like he had a hunchback.
"Lie to me again and I will order your execution." Polymus spat at the ground. "What did the king offer you? What did he say to you in his chambers?"
"It doesn't matter now, my lord. I turned down his offer."
"That sentence alone can make a man lose his head. Nobody turns down the king's offer and lives to share his story. You should be glad you were even in the king's chamber."
"He wanted me to be his personal adviser," The Babalawo had to play along. "My ancestors have served the crown for ages until-"
"Until we took over, yes, I know." Polymus laughed a shrill cackle that sounded inhuman.
"I know who you are now, unholy one. You have made the right choice, refusing the king. If I ever see you near the palace again, you shall rue the day you were born. Pack your belongings and leave Vothland, I will arrange for a hut in the Lower-city where you can stay."
"Thank you for your benevolence, my lord."
"You should. I don't want people to say I killed the last of your kind. Obey and you shall live the rest of your days in peace, the hut shall be in the forest and you will be surrounded by what your kind love best." The Babalawo nodded and began to leave.
"Wait," Polymus shouted, and the old man froze. "I want you to remain here for the meantime; you must not leave the village. I hope I have made myself understood."
Edaho nodded and began to leave for his home in the hills. His plan to stay here for a few days had just been tarnished by this young boy, all because of his blood. He ascended the stairs slowly, taking them one step at a time so he had some time to think. He could go to the king and report the threat. No. The king would only hand the matter over to the enforcers. Who knew how those hypocrites would judge it?
Edaho decided then that he would obey; it was why he was still alive. He would pack up his belongings as instructed and await the enforcers who would lead him to his new home. Once he had settled there, he would know what to do next. The young elite had mentioned his hut would be surrounded by what his kind liked best. That would have to do for now. The Babalawo entered his Vothland home and locked the door. He walked over to the bed and fell, causing his bag to bounce when he landed. Something fell out of the bag and rolled under his feet. He lifted his torso, grunting from the strain it put on his stomach, and picked up the golden disk.
"It is not yet time." He said and threw the spherical object back into his bag, which he closed and placed under the bed. Edaho lay on the bed yet again and stared at the ceiling. Maybe the bed in his new residence would be more comfortable than this stupid thing. The Babalawo laughed. He had always been optimistic, that was what differentiated him from the rest of his kind. It was why he was the last native doctor, the last of his kind. He laughed and did another torso lift to look for his alcohol bottle, it was worth the strain the sit-up would put on his stomach. Just one shot, and he would forget all of this. For at this moment, one shot was all that mattered.