Siren's Elegy Volume 1: Orphans of Ashen Earth

Chapter 42: Let's Go See the Stars

Until I lose my soul and lie

Blind to the beauty of the earth,

Deaf though a shouting wind goes by,

Dumb in a storm of mirth;

Until my heart is quenched at length

And I have left the land of men,

Oh, let me love with all my strength

Careless if I am loved again.

— Sara Teasdale, A Prayer

September 19, 4021 21:31 [Matriarch 04- Homunculi Housing Unit]

Indra leaned over the rooftop guardrail, staring into space with a listless gaze. He could hear chattering voices below, speaking excitedly about the day's events and discussing their predictions for the upcoming matches. They walked the streets enjoying the night without a care in the world. Lanterns and warm lights illuminated the city, marking the closure of some shops and the opening of others as the Residential District shifted to accommodate its nightlife. People exited their abodes dressed in either casual streetwear or apparel suited for more formal events, ready to enjoy tonight's offerings.

A frown formed on Indra's face—it seemed to be happening quite often these days. Kaluza's words echoed in his mind. As much as it displeased Indra to admit, that brazen Homunculus' words rang true. The strong had a duty to protect the weak. Civilization would turn back to savagery if not for fear of losing something important; certain moral, social, and economic constructs had stood the test of time, upheld for generations, not without reason. Even when humanity collapsed, civilization rose from the ashes once again, building itself on the same basic principles that its predecessors had flourished upon. With these principles came stipulations and drawbacks, but they were almost always outweighed by the benefits of adhering to societal norms.

Were the strong to abandon the weak, surely they would perish, with no one to enforce the laws of the ruling class, fundamentally, people would have no obligation to remain lawfully adherent unless they had the moral conviction to do so. Morality alone would not suffice in hindering lawlessness, however. It would give way to the strong, no longer bound by society's rules, for they were the enforcers of them.

Who would help the strong then? There were things that the weak did that necessitated a symbiotic relationship between the two. There were those who buried themselves in their work for the betterment of mankind, contributing to medical breakthroughs, technological advancement, social change, and order. Most of these brilliant minds were not strong, rather they compensated for their lack of it, creating a different kind of strength by way of wealth in knowledge and value to society through their work. Of course, strength and knowledge were not mutually exclusive, but one rarely found an incentive to pursue mastery of the other.

A devolution in principle. Indra thought, sighing wistfully. He was of the opinion that it was ruining the country. Anyone could see that the declaration of war wasn't just a matter of retaliation. It was clear to him now that the Oligarchs had been waiting for an opportunity like this—to turn a tragedy into a means to justify their assault on Levante. It wasn't even about resources; it was a show of might.

Yuèliàng's value lay in its military might, but what good was a military with no war to fight? "To defend its people" some might say, but the people were disgruntled at the hiking taxes used to pay for costs the military accrued as they developed more advanced weaponry to fight nonexistent threats. More money was being displaced, diverted into defense funds—money that should have gone into the country's infrastructure and education system.

It was futile to continue funding expenditures that couldn't be justified in good faith. No country dared attack Yuèliàng, even countries like Levante which had a historically precarious relationship with it. So why had they attacked now? It didn't make sense. The once-rich country was already suffering; they did not have the means to use their dwindling supply of resources to attack another country, even if they wanted to take the land's resources for themselves. Had they really launched the attack that day during the Duānwǔ Festival? Or had it been staged by those that sought to further their underlying agenda?