Museum of Ideas, Exhibit Two
© 2022 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  dragonmelde, color by  marmelmm



There was the bright flash of a magically-powered teleport, and the mage and the paladin stood blinking in the sunlight for a few moments before looking around.

All around them stretched a wide expanse of grassy moorland, its low hills and gullies making it resemble a rumpled blanket. Here and there in the distance, patches of level ground had been plowed, and furs dressed in homespun clothes tended neat lines of plants. In the opposite direction, wisps of smoke arose from a collection of waddle and daub huts. The sky was cloudy, but it didn’t look like it was going to rain.

Varan flexed her toes in the ground. “I like this place better than the glass city.” The paladin glanced at her, and the mage said, “It’s more like most of the places we’ve been to.”

Meredith nodded. “You’re right.” She rested a paw on her sword as her ears swiveled. “Do you hear that?”

The vir turned her head, and her prehensile tail pointed. “That way. Voices,” she said, gesturing at a low hill about fifty meters to their left, and they started walking.

The going was fairly damp underfoot, but the pair made good progress until they reached the crest of the hill and saw the two furs who had been speaking.

“No, no no, you still don’t get it,” a mud-spattered canine was saying to an equally grimy mink as they labored away at cutting peat. There was a large pile of cut blocks sitting on a wagon. “The entire idea of class is completely artificial, based solely on whoever has the most power.”

“You mean like swords?” the mink asked.

“Swords, gold, land, whatever,” the dog grunted, driving his spade into the peat with obvious relish. His ears swiveled, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Well, well, look at what we have here!”

The mink did a double take and almost fell into the muddy water that had flowed in to fill the holes left behind after the blocks of peat had been removed. “Hello!” he said, recovering himself before he got muddier. “Who are you?”

“I’m – “ Meredith began, but the canine blew a raspberry before she could say her name.

“You mean you don’t know?” the dog said to the mink. “Why, we’re in the presence of a noble knight,” he sneered. “Proper noble’s little girl, all dandied up in armor her daddy got her from exploiting the toil of the workers.” He glared up at the golden palomino mare. “Bet you think your shit don’t stink, hey?”

Meredith frowned. “I’m Meredith,” she said levelly, “and I’m not a knight.”

“Oh yeah?” the canine countered in a clearly disbelieving tone.

“I’m a paladin.”

“What are they like,” the mink asked, “when they’re at home?”

“A paladin’s been chosen by the gods to spread justice and fight evil,” the mare replied. “My armor was given to me by the priests – “

“Parasites,” the canine spat. “And what are you, then?” he asked Varan.

“I’m a mage,” the vir replied. “I had to go to school to learn magic.”

“Come on, Dennis,” the mink said. “Don’t be so hard on them. They’re obviously strangers. I’m Jack,” he said helpfully, “and that’s Dennis. Welcome to The Village.”

“’The Village?’” Varan asked. She exchanged glances with Meredith.

Jack nodded. “The Village,” he repeated. “We, um, we haven’t decided on a name yet.”

“Why?” Varan asked.

“We haven’t gotten the required three-quarters majority yet,” Dennis said in an exasperated tone. His ears went flat and he glowered at the two adventurers. “We’re a commune, so we don’t hold with artificial class distinctions like kings, or lords, or knights, or – “ he spat “priests.” He gave the mage and the paladin a glare, as if daring them to object, and grumbled indistinctly when no objection was forthcoming.

“I find this very interesting,” Varan said after a short silence. “Could you explain further?”

“I haven’t got all day to talk,” Dennis said. “Now, if you’ll help Jack and me, we can get this done faster, and I can talk while I work.” He sneered. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to get your pretty soft paws dirty.”

There was a wet squelch as two hooves splashed into the muck. The mare maintained eye contact with the canine as she stooped, grabbed a block of cut peat, lifted it, and carried it to the wagon. Varan set aside her cloak and staff and came down the hill as Meredith said, “Start talking.”


***


“So, you don’t have a leader?” Meredith asked as she and Varan helped Jack and Dennis pull the laden wagon down the road to The Village.

“Not as such,” Jack said helpfully.

“We take turns,” Dennis said, “to act as a sort of leader, but their actions have to be approved by a simple majority for internal affairs, and a three-quarters vote for anything external.”

“Like the name of your village.”

“That’s right.”

“Does everyone vote?” Varan asked. “Even the children?”

The canine chuckled. “No, they can’t vote until they’re sixteen,” he replied.

Jack said, “Imagine my Dora running things! She’s only three and a half years old,” the mink added.

“What do you use these for?” Varan asked, glancing back at the wagonload of peat bricks.

“They get dried out and used as fuel,” Jack replied.

“Do you sell them?”

The mink and the canine pulled the wagon to a stop in the middle of the village before gaping at her. “Sell? Of course not!” Dennis declared as a few villagers stopped what they were doing and approached the wagon. “We have things in common here, so people take what they need, and we store the rest for shortages.” He waved a paw, and several of his fellow inhabitants began unloading the wagon.

Ears perked at the sound of running feet and someone calling out, and heads turned as a deer came to a halt, gasping out, “Raiders! To the north!”

Dennis said, “Where’s Nigel?”

“Nigel’s our leader for this week,” Jack said in an aside to Varan and Meredith.

“Th-They killed him when he tried to talk to them,” the deer said.

More villagers began to mutter, before Dennis whistled for attention. “The Village is in danger! We must have immediate debate on a course of action!”

Varan finished putting her cloak back on and looked at Meredith, and the paladin stepped forward. “Good people! Please hear me out! How many of these ‘raiders’ are there?”

The deer blinked at the sight of the armored mare. “Um, about a dozen?”

Meredith looked left and right. “You outnumber them over three to one,” the paladin said. “Gather farm implements. I know combat, and Varan knows magic. We can easily overcome these intruders.” The villagers began muttering, and a few started to turn away.

Dennis asked, “What’s your name again?”

“Meredith.”

The canine glowered. “Meredith, you ignorant slut. What’s called for is immediate discussion on the nature and scope of the threat, and the election of a leader. You’re arrogating to yourself power that the masses haven’t given you, based solely on your assertion that – “

The arrow that suddenly protruded from his head cut short his argument.

Varan had a shield up, and a few more arrows glanced harmlessly off it as a portal opened. “I think,” the vir said, “we should leave.”

“I agree,” Meredith said.

As the white light enveloped them, words appeared.

Anarcho-syndicalism. It’s Not For Everyone.