Drone

2 Pit Two.

"What?" Niklas asked, aghast. "What are you talking about?"

"I read the policies," Edgar said. "The fine print. There is an official reg banning half-caste Sharderins from joining the architects."

Niklas put his hand on the outer wall of the armory as everything seemed to spin. All those years of hard work! He couldn't be a Raider because his skin was a shade pinker than the others?

"But..." he muttered, still shrouded in confusion. "Why? Why would the priests deny me because I look different? I'm more than qualified. I want to die cutting my way through Relrins. I'm never complacent in my duties and faithful to Gyva. I'm not Relrin! I'm Sharderin!"

Edgar's face was drawn tight with the fire at the corner of his eyes as he watched his brother's anguish. "Of course you're right! The raiders have had their eye on you for years now, but they can't recruit you because you're not pure. It makes no sense for the priests to deny you for something so trivial, so I checked the policy origin. The zealots instituted it." He said the name as though it were cancerous and contagious.

"The zealots?" Niklas asked. "I thought the architects were a priest faction. How are the zealots regulating the priests' recruiting?"

"I guess that's a privilege they get for being the presiding platform. They've extended their influence into their rivals' procedures," Edgar said evenly. "They keep a thumb in everyone's eye."

"Why do the zealots even care?" Niklas' voice quivered in frustration. "I've done nothing to offend them."

Edgar hesitated before answering. "Sometimes I think you would make a good zealot, Niklas."

Niklas started in surprise.

"Like you, they hate everything, Relrin, and unfortunately, that means you too."

"I'm not-"

Edgar stopped Niklas with an upraised hand.

"I know you're not a Relrin, but I doubt they can see you that way. There's more to it than just purity. The zealots don't care about purity within the priests. The real reason they did it was to assert themselves over their competitors. They have many such policies only to keep their opponents in check."

"So it's political?" Niklas demanded. "I can't serve the clan to my fullest because the zealots over-regulate the priests?"

Edgar shook his head indignantly.

"Deck the man who was my father!" Niklas snapped. "It's that relrin pig's fault I'm stuck."

Edgar held up a hand to stop him. The pads of Edgars' fingers and much of his palms bore heavy burn scars. "You can shiv on the dead and unable, like a timid, or you can deal with the living problem. It's the zealots' fault."

Niklas nodded in agreement. As usual, he found himself pacified by his brother's simple rebukes. Edgar had always taught Niklas not to accept circumstances as they came but to change things and find solutions. A dangerous idea for a Sharderin.

"But what can I do? I actually don't have a chance," Niklas lamented. "I can't rewrite policy."

Edgar snorted. "Don't be coy. There are always opportunities. You just need to find them."

"What opportunity could I possibly find against the zealot's law?" Niklas demanded anxiously. "This is daft, even for you."

Edgar smiled his wolfish grin, the smile that always proceeded solutions and turned their situation for the better. Niklas took great comfort in that terrifying smile.