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“The children that we raise now will be more like our ancestors, learning skills of survival in a hostile world.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
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TILLY STOMPED INTO Martin’s office to find it empty. She spun on her heel and headed back out. At the armory, Jack looked up from a half-hearted inventory of some new weapons. “Where is he?” Tilly demanded.
Jack sputtered something about rounds and perimeters.
Tilly marched down to Angus’s office where he was meeting with a disparate group of people that she couldn’t put a name to. Luckily, the meeting was breaking up, so she didn’t have to wait. “Angus, we need to talk.”
Her husband winced at her tone. “About what my dear?”
She plunked herself down on the chair opposite him. “We need to expand the Watch.”
He tipped his head. “Well, yes, but...”
“No buts. We need to start patrolling the entire area and the roads between here and Creamery. In fact, we need a way station halfway there with more guards.”
Angus’s eyes widened. “That’s a tall order.”
“We need a force of men to keep the roads safe. Like...Rangers.”
“Um.” Angus tapped his pen. “It isn’t easy to start up a personal army. I don’t think we’ve got the wherewithal.”
Tilly folded her arms. “I’ve been thinking and realized we are approaching this completely wrong. We’re still in the stop-gap stage. The world has changed, Angus, and it isn’t going back to what we had. Ever. I thought I had accepted that. But we keep doing things based on expectations that are unrealistic.”
Angus leaned back in his chair, smiling at her. “I don’t think I’ve seen this side of you before. What has made you so martial?”
“This is my castle. I will not have it violated. Society has gone backwards down to city-states, and we need to think in those terms. If we want to survive, we need to police our territory. We need to decide how much is ours and make it clear how we expect people to act.”
“Interesting thought. It would make sense to create an alliance of sorts with anyone local.”
“No,” she countered. “Things are too fragile for democracy. You can be the king or the earl or the sheriff, but people don’t get a say in how we keep them safe and fed.”
“That presupposes that we will be able to do that—feed and protect a populace.”
Tilly could tell by his tone that Angus took her seriously. He might have thought about all of this already but hadn’t felt it could be put into action. “Then that is what we must do.” She leaned forward, hugging her arms tight against herself. “It’s getting worse. If we don’t create the world we want to live in, it won’t happen. The government is gone. We are on our own. We need to plan our future without expecting help from anyone.”
“We have,” Angus said, a baffled look in his eyes.
“No. We have blundered along doing good enough and waiting for the cavalry.” Tilly bit her lip to still the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “I just realized that somewhere in the back of my mind I was still hoping.” She took a shaky breath. “There will never be cavalry. There is just us. Forever. And we need to think a whole lot larger, or we will fail.”
“We can’t get there overnight.”
“I’m scared, Angus. I saw the world fall apart a long time ago. I thought I understood that. Today Bruno told me that somewhere not far away someone tore apart a house. That close to us and Martin hadn’t known. We need more patrols. We need better defenses. We can’t sit in our little safe haven and remain complacent.”
“I did have plans,” Angus admitted. “When we first came here, I had lofty plans. But the people I needed are gone now.” He poked at his papers. “I keep losing them, year after year.”
“Train more,” Tilly said, a little more harshly than intended. “We need to set up guard training and ranger training and...” she threw up one hand in frustration. “I don’t know what else. That’s your job.”
“I’ll talk to Martin.”
She forced herself to her feet before she started babbling or sobbing. Her emotions were so agitated she would have sent Wisp running. She had to trust that Angus would make a plan, or enact a plan he already had. Somehow that thought didn’t cheer her as it should. They were sliding, just a bit, every year towards oblivion, and she didn’t know how to stop it.