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7/15/2025, 4:06:18 PM
While you do have your obligation to your lord, you do have some discretion. Truthfully, you don't care much for the war at all, or the warriors who pillage your lands as bad as an invading enemy would. Why waste your own resources? You can't deny the request; but you can do the absolute bare minimum. A good master would inspire you to greater artistic heights, not endlessly play with their instruments. In the race to create the finest masterpieces, sometimes a little corruption and coercion is to be expected. While you haven't made an art form of evading taxes like the Consortium does; you have your own way of keeping what is yours.
“...The Hedges, my little leaf-eating little ones, the pond, and the whistling weeds are all off limits for sure. Plus the grounds must be kept tidy; no digging any womb-holes or anything of the sort here. Oh, and I'll need some drones to help with the final preperations, so you can't kill all of them. And I need some fruit from the Wisdom tree still; you'll need to leave me at least a few of the good colors. But surely if you scrap the lichen from the stones and filter the swarms of insects; that will be enough to fuel you into space, eh?”
The warrior twitches errantly; some inherent knowledge letting it know that you aren't giving it the most you could to help you with its task. Hundreds of complex protien chains and many, many calories of energy are needed to feed the machines they must build; space-capable acidic spewing insectoid ships, unfurling to catch solar winds and accelerate to as fast as light; and you tell it to scrap lichen from the rocks... But what can it do? You stay silent, and after a few moments, the warrior motions to the others to go about their tasks. You stand there very smugly and feel very clever for tricking the lesser estate of your society. Who cares what they want? What does any of that ugly, ugly fighting have to do with the beautiful things you care about?
...Of course, the drones that live on your fief have no such authority over the warriors. After all, their bodies are not their own. It is not their purpose to be free or to live a long life. If their flesh will feed the larval-state of your society's warships before they blossom and ready for battle; then so be it.
“...The Hedges, my little leaf-eating little ones, the pond, and the whistling weeds are all off limits for sure. Plus the grounds must be kept tidy; no digging any womb-holes or anything of the sort here. Oh, and I'll need some drones to help with the final preperations, so you can't kill all of them. And I need some fruit from the Wisdom tree still; you'll need to leave me at least a few of the good colors. But surely if you scrap the lichen from the stones and filter the swarms of insects; that will be enough to fuel you into space, eh?”
The warrior twitches errantly; some inherent knowledge letting it know that you aren't giving it the most you could to help you with its task. Hundreds of complex protien chains and many, many calories of energy are needed to feed the machines they must build; space-capable acidic spewing insectoid ships, unfurling to catch solar winds and accelerate to as fast as light; and you tell it to scrap lichen from the rocks... But what can it do? You stay silent, and after a few moments, the warrior motions to the others to go about their tasks. You stand there very smugly and feel very clever for tricking the lesser estate of your society. Who cares what they want? What does any of that ugly, ugly fighting have to do with the beautiful things you care about?
...Of course, the drones that live on your fief have no such authority over the warriors. After all, their bodies are not their own. It is not their purpose to be free or to live a long life. If their flesh will feed the larval-state of your society's warships before they blossom and ready for battle; then so be it.
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