Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen - George Orwell.
The ninth rule simply states that all children from birth must be handed over to the Enforcers to be trained in schools that suit the rank of their parents. The fourth rule was what you got when you broke the ninth rule or any rule in particular. You must obey the command of the King, his Elite, and the Enforcers, or you shall be killed. Life had only one goal, and that was the creation of more life to multiply. The next day the enforcers came, a new division.
These enforcers were not bull-men, but rather women of all ages and sizes, most of them were already old and wrinkly. These women were dressed in uniforms and they all carried a small wooden stick, which was a variation of the whips the enforcers carried. They knocked on the doors of Vothlanders and simply asked for the children.
"Could we have your children, please?" They would smile. The women only asked nicely in the Upper-city, they would snatch the lower people's children without remorse. The parents only needed to glance at the real enforcers standing behind the women to decide what their reply would be.
"Certainly," Then they would call for their children and hand them over, like bags of salt. "There you go, ma'am." The women would smile at the terrified children and lead them away until they reached the next house, where they would repeat the ritual. It was all procedural, nothing but a routine.
These women had been promoted to Upper-people by the Lady Kiana, who was the elite overseeing childbirth and the cemetery. They had been the most hardworking females in the Lower-city and their obedience had finally paid off. It was the eighth rule; Any Lower-person found to be fully obedient by the king's Elite may be promoted to an Upper-person. They had been recruited from the Lower-city farms, chicken coops, and fruit and vegetable gardens, and received their instructions overnight. The children were to be collected from their respective homes and moved to the Upper-city conditioners, large houses where the kids were taught to become humans. The female enforcers, which were now referred to as conditioners, were happy with this arrangement. They had been given temporary residence in the conditioners and their children got to attend the Upper-schools. Only the gods knew what horror awaited the children of the Lower-people. A subhuman would always get subhuman treatment, it was the law of the jungle, the survival of the fittest, and death to all at the bottom of the food chain.
"Could we have your children, please?" A woman and two enforcers knocked on the Babalawo's door and the old man peeked from behind the slightly open door.
"Who are you?" Edaho asked, his head still booming from the alcohol he had drunk last night. It was an appropriate word; drunk, for he had finished the bottle.
"Could-Could we have your children, please?" The woman repeated, sweat dribbling down her forehead. Lady Kiana had forgotten to tell them what to do if they encountered a barren home.
"I don't have children," Edaho replied his words a drawn-out slur. "Get out from this place, before I descend on you and your boys." He pointed at the two enforcer escorts. The Babalawo didn't wait for her to reply. He slammed the door shut and clicked the bolt in place, locking the intruders outside.
"You haven't got any children." An enforcer said to the woman, lifting his whip. It wasn't a question. The woman swallowed, trying to think of a way to save herself from being flogged. This was her third house, and she had failed to get a single child. Edaho ambled towards the window and whisked the curtains aside, watching the woman scream as she received multiple whippings from both enforcers. So the conditioners were also prisoners in their new job. He laughed and moved deeper into the house to take his bath. All of his belongings were already packed into his bag, which now remained underneath the silly contraption he called a bed.
After his bath, he prepared his magic potion, which he boasted could cure any kind of alcohol-induced hangover. It wasn't actually magical per se, just a mixture of tomato, orange juice, fresh lime juice, salt, onions, and a few slices of pepper. The Babalawo had all these ingredients in his bag, and he prepared and drank it while still naked. After swallowing the last of the concoction, he slipped into his dirty tunic and slung the bag over his shoulder, then left his Vothland apartment. He had stayed in the village for over two days and was on his way to the market to see if the gypsy's son had returned with his ikere. The ikere leaf was a rare plant with supernatural properties, and he needed it to renew his juju. For him to transform into an eagle again, Edaho required a swallow stone, and the swallow stone could not be made without the ikere leaf.
"You there!" Someone shouted as the Babalawo descended the stairs linking Vothland and the Lower-city. "Wait." The voice shouted. Edaho waited. A young man dressed in black leather, which was the royal messenger's tunic, sprinted up to the old man.
"You are the right old man?" The messenger said once he stopped running, breathing like a horny rabbit.
"A message from the elite, I presume?" The Babalawo squinted at the newcomer. This man must have been sent by Polymus.
"Yes," The man nodded. "You are to report to the closest conditioning house and ask for the governess, she will lead you to your new home." Then the young messenger, having delivered his message successfully, turned and sprinted back in the direction he had come from.
"Just like a horny rabbit." The Babalawo whispered beneath his breath and looked for the closest conditioning house. Once he got his hands on the ikere leaves, he would leave this godforsaken hell of a kingdom. A bunch of ikere leaves could last him an entire year. He only needed to endure this ludicrous way of life.