Dakost sighed, adjusting her position in the wagon. What a headache this job was turning out to be. A new colony, headed by an enigmatic dwarf from the quaint-speaking Eastern Mountain, started on the other side of the world. It had seemed a little strange, but not extraordinary. She had thought that either they would never be heard from again, or that they would bring exotic riches for crown and country.
But they said that they didn't have to do what the nobles said. They said that serfs could be their own masters. It was absurd. You had to do what they said: it was how it worked. Right?
Actually, Dakost realized that she had never thought about it before. It was just how things worked. You did what the ones wearing silk and jewels told you to. Who knows why? But it was orderly. At least she knew how the world worked for her and how to fit into it.
Those people, though. "The Glorious Union," they called themselves. They irked her when she met them, but when she was away she just thought: poor schmucks. Here anger was just that of her superiors channeled through her. Now that she thought about it, she knew why you had to do what the nobles said: you did it or else. They could order anyone to do anything to you, they had soldiers. But why did the soldiers follow orders?
As she thought about it, Dakost realized life was even less fair than she generally held it to be. What could you do, though? Just please the nobles. It was the only thing to do. She sighed and adjusted her position on the wagon.