(All work is my own)
-Stop the thief! Stop the thief!
Rangon reacted fast. With lifted spear he jumped over the wagon between him and the stairs. In mid air he stabbed the thief in the throat. She fell to the ground, spitting blood. Moments after she died.
Rangon was a soldier. He protected law and order in the city. He patrolled the streets, and if he saw a crime, he often killed the criminal. People who murdered or raped. People who stole. People who kissed in public. Sometimes he did a mistake, but that was just the way things were, the way things had always been. No one questioned it. No one objected.
Marakara came running.
-Thank you soldier, he said. -Thank you!
He got the apples out of the dead thief’s hands. He could have bought new apples, and it was uncomfortable to see the dead body on the ground, but the law was the law. Things were as they always had been. There was no other way. He never questioned it. He never objected.
One day a stranger came to town. He came walking down from the rocky mountains in the east. His name was Tornag.
He roamed the streets, among the people. Spoke to them, asked questions.
He spoke with words put together in ways they had ever heard. Arguments no one could deny.
Marakara met him one day. The stranger asked him questions, questions about why thing were the way they were. He had no good answers. The meeting stayed in his mind, lingered in his memory.
Everywhere the stranger went, people listened. Slowly they started asking questions on their own. Marakara asked himself why the apple thief had to die. Rangor wondered why he even followed orders. Everyone had questions of their own. Soon they objected.
Then things started to change.
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