The speaker's voice was not loud, yet like a quenched steel awl, it carried a cold piercing power, stabbing into the ears of the several dozen listeners seated in a circle.
Most of them wore coarse clothing washed to a faded white, their faces etched with deep furrows from the burdens of life, with eyes mixed with fatigue, numbness, and sparks ignited by the words.
"They send our sons to the battlefield as cannon fodder, our daughters into the textile mills as slaves!
"They tell us this is 'Order,' this is 'Tradition'!
"I say, nonsense!
"This is enslavement! Like leeches sucking our blood, nailed into our bones!"
He slammed the wooden board, shaking loose a layer of dust.
"Now, we have power! The Night Watcher has given us knowledge, taught us unity, made us know that we are not born to be trampled into the dirt!
