A Drop of Corruption

It is good to place oneself before the vast expanse of this world," said Ana. "The ocean cannot tell the difference between a rich man and a poor one, nor one full of happiness, nor despair. To those waves, all are so terribly small.

This work can never satisfy, Din, for it can never finish. The dead cannot be restored. Vice and bribery will never be totally banished from the cantons. And the drop of corruption that lies within every society shall always persist. The duty of the ludex is not to boldly vanquish it but to manage it. We keep the stain from spreading, yes, but it is never gone. Yet this job is perhaps the most important in all the Iyalets, for without it, well… the Empire would come to look much like Yarrow, where the powerful and the cruel prevail without check. And tell me - does that realm look capable of fighting off a leviathan?

Because all the characters in this story—like all of humanity, apparently—have a little blank spot in their heads that says, “Kings. What a good idea.” The idea is powerful, and seductive, and should not be underestimated. To be a civilization of any worth, however, means acknowledging the idea—and then condemning it as laughably, madly stupid. May we come to live in such a worthier world, and soon.

The second decade of the twenty-first century seems replete with examples as to why autocracies are, to put it mildly, very stupid. Our headlines are dominated by regimes with one nigh-all-powerful man at the top making any number of terrible choices, and then – to the bafflement of the entire globe – doubling down on them, thus inflicting massive suffering on his people. It seems the talents that make a man capable of navigating palace intrigue until he wins the throne generally don’t coexist with the talents required for – or even a passing interest in – good governance. P 459 Yet if the 2010’s awed us with the power of autocrats, the 2020’s seem hell-bent to refute it. More and more, it becomes impossible to deny that autocrats – like any ruler – are but men, yet men with no obligation to listen their people, and thus acknowledge reality. This, in turn, makes them fools: fools that are very difficult to dislodge from their thrones, true, but fools nonetheless. P 460

You know, you are not a stupid person, Din.” “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, pleased. “Or, rather, not an unusually stupid person.” “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, far less pleased.

To serve is a tremendously humbling thing. How easy it is to mistake glory and fame for duty! But duty is thankless, invisible, Forgettable—but oh, so very necessary.

And the drop of corruption that lies within every society shall always persist.

for if we are not instruments in service to one another, then we are nothing at all.

We built this, I thought. We have built this unnatural thing, and it has built us in turn.

How easy it is to mistake glory and fame for duty! But duty is thankless, invisible, forgettable—but oh, so very necessary.

though the Legion defends our Empire, it falls to us to keep an Empire worth defending.

I heard Ghrelin’s voice continue beside me, whispering, “So I wonder now. I wonder—what does that make us?” “I…I beg pardon, sir?” I asked. I turned and saw him smiling sadly at me through the glass of his helm. “What does it mean,” he said, “when the line that once connected us to the inscrutable and ineffable instead coils about, forms a great loop—and then comes back to us?

Oh, don’t bother with discretion now!” she said. “You’ve all the prudence of an inebriated cow! I’m half surprised people don’t gossip that you are a whore for hire, and I your pimp! It’d all be very amusing, if the reason for your consternation weren’t so obvious!

Regardless, the second decade of the twenty-first century seems replete with examples as to why autocracies are, to put it mildly, very stupid. Our headlines are dominated by regimes with one nigh-all-powerful man at the top making any number of terrible choices, and then—to the bafflement of the entire globe—doubling down on them, thus inflicting massive suffering on his people. It seems the talents that make a man capable of navigating palace intrigue until he wins the throne generally don’t coexist with the talents required for—or even a passing interest in—good governance.

Goddamn autocrats. They really are hardly better than shit-stained children.

But a prideful creature can talk themself into believing that every deed they do is legitimate. Thus, they both giddily and greedily spin their own doom.

Just keep an eye out for the fellow with testicles large enough to cause back deformities, and we shall have our culprit!

People don't often get murdered in banks. They're usually rather difficult to escape from.

...For you've become quite handy disguising yourself, haven't you? After all, what is a disguise but signals, and patterns, and gestures?...

He wishes to extort more money, more resources, more agreements from the Empire. Which means every day is a fucking temper tantrum with him! Goddamn autocrats. They really are hardly better than shit-stained children.

Some rules can be obeyed, others less so

Well, first there is the pleasant puzzle, yes?” I said. “The how, and the who. Then all the dirty drudgery, wherein I follow folk about or dig through their refuse. And then, inevitably, either a rope or the slam of an iron door, and tears.

Oh. Ohh, yes! The fourth…” She shrugged. “Well, the fourth is that we wait and see what this impostor is going to do next. Or who he’s going to kill.” “You…wish to wait for this killer to kill again?” “Well, I don’t want to, Din. I’d prefer it if I could just toss a stone out my window and strike this fucker in the head! Yet that is unlikely. We shall pursue the threads I’ve laid out here, yet…when he makes his next move, he shall surely be vulnerable again, yes?” “Is there no chance he’s finished?” “Oh, Din…” She laughed lowly. “He is not done.

His eye lingered for a fraction of a second on her blindfold; then he bowed low, took her by the right hand, and kissed one pale knuckle. “Always a delight to meet a member of the old country.” I stared, startled not only by the boldness of the gesture but also because I was aware of how rarely Ana washed her hands.

I feel we needn’t bother looking at faces to find this man, Din! Just keep an eye out for the fellow with testicles large enough to cause back deformities, and we shall have our culprit

Robert Jackson Bennett is the author of the Founders Trilogy and the Divine Cities Trilogy

I pinned my hair back, took another sip of sotwine, and went to work. I moved throughout the crowd in slow, familiar steps as I went about my dance: waiting for the right look, the proper fleeting glance, before approaching with a small smile; then, my eyes fluttering, I’d recall the best greeting, the best clever comment; or the right movements, or the right positioning; or when to look them in the eye, or look away; or when to let my hair fall in my face, and when to pin it back again. To others, the dance might have seemed artful, yet to me, it was routine. I had memorized this method over the past year as I’d moved from place to place: much like picking a lock, some combination of these gestures and exchanges worked to win the right attentions.