The Will of the Many (Hierarchy, #1)

by James Islington

there’s less of the Hierarchy this far south than almost anywhere else in the world. I sometimes tell myself that’s why I stopped running. Of course, if I’m honest, the hunger and loneliness contributed.

Side streets like this would have been dangerous once; crime in Letens does still exist, but now it caters far more to the thrill of the forbidden than the violence of need.

“But I think there may be a way we can work this out, to both our benefits. So let’s start again. Without the lies, this time.” “Alright,” I lie.

The only one who ever seemed interested in whether I was filling my own potential, rather than exceeding that of others.

My eyes are still glued to the increasingly distant illusion of safety. I can all but hear Ulciscor’s grin.

Even through my physical pain the reminder’s a dagger, made keener by accusation.

“Mawraur, bacpidyn,”

The man she chose for the job, Cullen, used to delight in teaching a young prince the most foul phrases his native tongue had to offer. Not that I was ever an unwilling student. “What does it mean?” I cough. “It’s, ah… something about using extravagance as… compensation for other deficiencies.”

“Ah.” Ulciscor eyes the frieze. “Yes. Mawraur, bacpidyn,” he concedes with a smirk.

“What about guiro thanat?”

“Sytrecian. It’s more of an insult. The rough translation is someone who could ‘brighten a room with their absence, or dazzle it with their corpse.’ ” I smile slightly. I’ve always liked that one. “All that in two words?”

“They say that young men know they will die, but only old men believe it. For some reason, I don’t think that’s true of you, Vis.

I turn at motion somewhere to my left, watching with heart in throat as a dozen Praetorians leap the barrier onto Estevan’s stony peninsula. Several men wielding stylii follow, no doubt eager to share in the glory of killing the Anguis’s leader.

The power to protect is the highest of responsibilities, Diago. When a man is given it, his duty is not only to the people he thinks are worthy.

“Silence is a statement, Diago. Inaction picks a side. And when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.”

“There comes a point in every man’s life where he can rail against the unfairness of the world until he loses, or he can do his best in it. Remain a victim, or become a survivor.”

“Nervousness means there’s a fear to be faced ahead, Diago. The man who is never nervous, never does anything hard. The man who is never nervous, never grows.”

“How bad is it?” “Bad enough to hurt. Not bad enough to get me out of stable duty.” “Ah. The worst amount of bad,”

I feel a smile creep onto my face as I watch him stalk away. Today was not such a bad day.

They seem to get along well, chatting and laughing, though it’s never boisterous. Glad of each other’s company but here to share their sadness, I think, not enjoy the time together.

I’m too focused on distinguishing myself to Taedia to make an effort to endear myself, and after my fight with Ianix, my reputation is such that—according to Callidus and Emissa, at least—I’m viewed with some hesitancy by the wider body of students.

Combined with the Catenicus nomenclature, and Iro’s lingering influence, I’m considered a… somewhat less than approachable figure, as Emissa delicately puts it.

I just, on the whole, never cared for it. Having to feign interest in those you don’t like, or at least don’t know well enough to have an opinion on. Pretending to have their interests at heart when in reality, you’re just figuring out how to make the best use of them. It’s all so… disingenuous.

“What do you mean?”

“They ask something small of you. A thing you would prefer not to do, but is not so terrible. You think you are working your way up, but in fact they are changing you. Moulding you into what they think you should be, one compromise at a time.”

“I am not suggesting you should have ignored what Scitus said. I am just saying that in this place… each man has to find his line. Has to find it ahead o...

The decision may have been made by the few, Diago, but it’s the Will of the many that killed your family.”