Wolf Watching
Wolff (no longer Sir) has been masterless for more than a year. Yet in the streets he used to guard with his life and his calling, he is still 'Sir Wolff'. But there is unrest in the villages. Some of them feel that the knights of the Imperium no longer protect their interests. It is into this mess that Wolff (no longer Sir) finds himself drawn — it is a drawing-in, where there should be a drawing-out.
Sir Wolff! Milord! We need you to protect us! We are being assailed by the dark arts and no guidance comes from the Magistratum in the Citadel!
What dark arts are these? asks Wolff, his curiosity curiously stirred.
They say it is epistemology and ontology and even biology! It is a dire thing, milord. We cannot stand against their ways of knowing and areas of knowledge and subjective objectivism and utilitarian pragmatism and...
Wolff's eyes narrow. He does not like being played for a fool, and he has not known the peasant who would so fluently bandy such words around with such alarming facility. For these are dark matters, and for physicists, not just physicians.
You seem too well educated to be a peasant. Who are you really? Wolff asks, his gauntlet of black iridium steel flexing gently as he prepares for action. There is increasing alarm on the man's face as he realises that perhaps the legends are true.
Milord? I am...
Out with it, boy.
Milord. I am a junior member of the College, milord. We lack guidance. The Grand Inquisitor talks of the Sea, and how blue it is, but we are besieged by darkness and even etymology. There is something squamous about the whole thing, and we know not what it is, and you used to be a senior member of the College, milord, and we will pay good coin for your help!
Something rings true here, even through the forbidden words. Wolff, once a knight and senior member of the college (and perhaps even a junior member of the Magistratum) feels a twinge of sympathy.
Once a member, always a member, boy. Remember that. For you can take the man from the College, but not the College from the man. I will help you.
Over the next few weeks, Wolff will come to regret it. For the forces of darkness, armed with theories of knowledge that man was not meant to know, are hunting. They take no prisoners, and the Magistratum appears to do as much harm as good, for they are unfamiliar with these evils. Epistemology, forsooth. Wolff sets his jaw grimly and perseveres.
He teaches the 'peasants', who are actually young knights and squires, both men and women, of the College. He teaches them to present themselves, to essay boldly into the realms of the enemy, to acquit themselves with full justification, with validity, reliability, utility — and even compassion, justice and humility. It is hard work, but he knows that it is well worth it.
True, they pay him in coin. He feels at first like each pouch of hard-won copper is a bag of thirty silver pieces. But in time, as he gives back to the hidden communities and the centres of trade, he realises that this is what the true economy has come to be. Give it back, give it back; for God makes a man rich only so that he can use it for good.
And one day, Wolff will no longer need to watch over the young, for they shall inherit the earth.
Sir Wolff! Milord! We need you to protect us! We are being assailed by the dark arts and no guidance comes from the Magistratum in the Citadel!
What dark arts are these? asks Wolff, his curiosity curiously stirred.
They say it is epistemology and ontology and even biology! It is a dire thing, milord. We cannot stand against their ways of knowing and areas of knowledge and subjective objectivism and utilitarian pragmatism and...
Wolff's eyes narrow. He does not like being played for a fool, and he has not known the peasant who would so fluently bandy such words around with such alarming facility. For these are dark matters, and for physicists, not just physicians.
You seem too well educated to be a peasant. Who are you really? Wolff asks, his gauntlet of black iridium steel flexing gently as he prepares for action. There is increasing alarm on the man's face as he realises that perhaps the legends are true.
Milord? I am...
Out with it, boy.
Milord. I am a junior member of the College, milord. We lack guidance. The Grand Inquisitor talks of the Sea, and how blue it is, but we are besieged by darkness and even etymology. There is something squamous about the whole thing, and we know not what it is, and you used to be a senior member of the College, milord, and we will pay good coin for your help!
Something rings true here, even through the forbidden words. Wolff, once a knight and senior member of the college (and perhaps even a junior member of the Magistratum) feels a twinge of sympathy.
Once a member, always a member, boy. Remember that. For you can take the man from the College, but not the College from the man. I will help you.
Over the next few weeks, Wolff will come to regret it. For the forces of darkness, armed with theories of knowledge that man was not meant to know, are hunting. They take no prisoners, and the Magistratum appears to do as much harm as good, for they are unfamiliar with these evils. Epistemology, forsooth. Wolff sets his jaw grimly and perseveres.
He teaches the 'peasants', who are actually young knights and squires, both men and women, of the College. He teaches them to present themselves, to essay boldly into the realms of the enemy, to acquit themselves with full justification, with validity, reliability, utility — and even compassion, justice and humility. It is hard work, but he knows that it is well worth it.
True, they pay him in coin. He feels at first like each pouch of hard-won copper is a bag of thirty silver pieces. But in time, as he gives back to the hidden communities and the centres of trade, he realises that this is what the true economy has come to be. Give it back, give it back; for God makes a man rich only so that he can use it for good.
And one day, Wolff will no longer need to watch over the young, for they shall inherit the earth.
Labels: Epistemology, Evil, Historical Fiction, Wolff
etched with acid at 10:58:00 am
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