Beyond Redemption by Michael R. Fletcher Read Free Book Online

future god of the Geborene Damonen, engrossed in his game, hadn’t noticed Konig. He marched a squad of forty tiny soldiers up a street toward a crowd of some two hundred peasants gathered in the center of town. Konig watched with interest. The goings-on of a child’s mind were as mysterious as anything in the world. What drives this boy’s imagination to play out these tedious games?
    Morgen moved the troops forward one at a time until they faced the crowd of peasants, stopping often to remove minuscule flecks of lint or dust from the table or to adjust the exact positioningof a toy. Many toys he adjusted half a dozen times before he seemed satisfied with how and where they stood. He moved the Captain of the Guard forward to meet with what Konig assumed was the representative of the peasants. If there was dialogue between the two, it all took place in the boy’s mind as he sat motionless, looking at the toy people he’d gathered together. Konig saw frustration in the set of Morgen’s shoulders and the way he reached for one piece before stopping and then reaching for another. It seemed he could not make up his mind which to move first.
    Konig’s stifled a gasp of surprise when the wood soldiers suddenly straightened from their fixed positions, hefted tiny weapons, and charged the gathered peasants. In seconds the model city was home to bloodless butchery as soldiers hacked wooden limbs from peasants. What the peasants lacked in weaponry they made up for in numbers. Soldiers were pulled from horses, relieved of their weapons, and either pulled apart or battered with small model rakes and farming implements. Morgen sat back watching, touching nothing. At first it seemed the soldiers had the advantage, but before long more peasants poured into the street. Another sixty soldiers arrived to reinforce the original forty, but at this point over a thousand peasants had joined the melee. Within minutes wooden corpses littered the model city and the surviving peasants armed themselves with weapons from fallen soldiers.
    Konig cleared his throat, and Morgen, appearing unsurprised, glanced back at him. The wood toys stopped moving the moment the boy looked away.
    â€œHaving a little trouble with your peasants?” Konig asked.
    Morgen’s slim face lit with a quick smile. “Yes. The peasants are revolting.”
    â€œSo I see.”
    â€œNo, it’s a joke. I heard it from Aufschlag.”
    Konig hid his distaste. “Of course.” Perhaps I should keep Aufschlag from the boy in the future . “Having fun?”
    â€œYes. Numerical superiority will win over superior weapons. Thus peasants are only peasants because they allow themselves to be peasants. Perhaps it’s what they want, though that makes little sense to me. They could as easily be the rulers if they decided.”
    â€œThat is partly true, but you aren’t seeing the whole picture. You’re assuming the peasants know they can defeat those ruling. You’re assuming it will occur to them to try. Finally, you’re assuming many will be willing to die to achieve this goal. And when the peasants take over, who runs things? Who will work the fields? Who will replace the fallen soldiers? Will the peasants then revolt against their new leaders?”
    â€œYou’re saying there will always be peasants and there will always be leaders?”
    â€œI’m saying peasants need good leaders. The heart of any regime or empire is its workers, call them peasants or whatever you like. While their will is strong the regime is strong. Break the workers, break the empire.”
    Morgen’s eyes narrowed in thought and he examined his hands closely. “Is this why there are no large empires anymore?” He dug under a nail to remove something Konig couldn’t see.
    â€œWell, part of the reason. The truth is the gods seek to keep mankind divided, weak.”
    â€œBut what about the empires of old? The