Assent

I made this game to reflect on Butler's experiences over the past year and a half. I hope that you enjoy this! As a note, I'm sharing most of this on an out-of-game level. There's a lot of specific details that you/your character wouldn't know unless you were there. If you want to use this to steer or guide interactions in game, please reach out to me directly! I'll probably be game for it. [[Start]]

Your eyes dilate. In the dark nook, six forms stand. They’re pitch black against the darker night, and their heads are turned to you. You swallow. The gulp echoes in the night. One approaches you. Head crooked, enough movement to let you know they’re looking you over. Measuring you up. Weighing what you’ve brought with you. “Who brought you here?” comes the demand. [[“Birthright”]] “I was told to report for [[work]].” [[Gesture to the laskie.]] [[Do not answer.]]

He looks you over, a second appraisal. No knife, not even a plank to protect yourself. A blank slate. "Huh. Doesn't look like it. What do you know about our guidelines?" You hesitate. They're scrimshawed on your bones. You suckled them off your mother. They're you. He pulls you aside. Hands you over to [[another dark figure]] in the dark night.

He looks you over, a second appraisal. No knife, not even a plank to protect yourself. A blank slate. "You know the rules?" You hesitate. They're scrimshawed on your bones. You suckled them off your mother. They're you. He pulls you aside. Hands you over to [[another dark figure]] in the dark night.

He looks you over, a second appraisal. No knife, not even a plank to protect yourself. A blank slate. "That'll either help or hurt you, you know. Answer me. What do you know?" You hesitate. It's always complicated to answer. Why are you here? The dictates tell you to be. They're scrimshawed on your bones. You suckled them off your mother. They're you. He pulls you aside. Hands you over to [[another dark figure]] in the dark night.

A symphony of breathing overtakes you. A half dozen sets of lungs moving, a half dozen strangers surely staring at you. Footsteps approach you. The air moves around you a someone leans over, moves around, measures you. A sniffing appraisal. “Who brought you here?” comes the demand. [[“Birthright”]] “I was told to report for [[work]].” [[Gesture to the laskie.]] [[Do not answer.]]

The laskie is gone. Not there. Maybe she wasn't part of this. A delivery agent. Looks like you're doing this yourself. "I was sent." It was true enough, though the finer details were smoothed out. He looks you over, a second appraisal. No knife, not even a plank to protect yourself. A blank slate. "You know the rules?" You hesitate. They're scrimshawed on your bones. You suckled them off your mother. They're you. He pulls you aside. Hands you over to [[another dark figure]] in the dark night.

The bay laps against the shore. Reeds stick out of the sand-dirt. Periwinkles grasp to the grass. Rime carpets the world and crunches with each step forward. Your pull your cardigan tighter. The wool stretches thin around your body and scales peek through the weave. April was supposed to be warmer than this. In the treeline, something shakes. Your contact? Hopefully. It hadn't been a long wait here, but you had been waiting... ever since you were [[ordered]] away. ever since you [[chose]] to leave.

You and H.M.S. once joked that your Maw liked to make cruel choices. Last week, a woman in crisp uniform boarded the ship and demanded an audience with Maw. The meeting hadn't been long. Two sharks could only circle for so long, after all. When the woman left the deckhouse, Maw called you in. Despite it being noon, the room was dim. Light struggled to filter through the cobbled sea-glass windows. Still, Maw's teeth sparkled. "It's unfortunate," she stated as her smile widened, showing off her second row of sharp teeth, "that they demanded one of my own flesh-and-blood to pay off our debt." She raises a sealed envelope from her desk. "It's time you did something for this [[Family]]." You gathered your things, announced your departure, and lowered your dinghy. The lapping of waves against the hull untied the knot of nausea and smoothed your breathing.

When Maw had called a meeting to announce one of her own flesh-and-blood were to go to Eden as payment for a debt, you didn't hesitate. Your dinghy was in the water within an hour. Your rudder cut through the bay silently, your sail full beside you. Away from your [[Family]], there was so much promise.

Each gust of wind took you further from them. Each gust of wind took you closer to this shore. The tree rustled again. A moon face flickered in the brush. You take a step closer, trying to get a better view. A blue-cloaked lascarian popped out from the trees, eyes large and teeth sharp. "You gotta be Butler, [[right]]?"

You stammer. That was the family name, not yours. But - it fit. "It's, uh, Mister.. er, Doctor Butler." "Mister Doctor Butler, got it." The lascarian picked at a piece of meat stuck in her teeth. "We gotta get going. Too bright out here." The town you were headed to was father off than you had thought. You hadn't been told much about it. Just that at the [[end of the road]], there would be work.

It was the standard game. Dead drop letter, late-night meeting, come in secret. Your feet are too loud on the gravel, then too loud in the leaves. Every twig you step on shouts your presence. The darkness is thick. Without a hand on the lascarian, you would've been deep in the woods instead of the nook. You heart drums in your ears. Your breath is a roar. The world is reduced to just you, just your body. Nothing else. Nothing. You stop moving. You stop. [[You hear first.]] [[You see first.]]

The talk is blurred in your memory. You know this: don't follow people into the dark don't walk without a knife trust those that can be trusted trust no one else [[don't trust yourself]] Maw had tried to teach those to you. Tried to get you to know them as much as you knew to read to. It hadn't stuck. But here. The pieces fit together.

It's been two years. Your contracts are up. They're dissolved in a muddle of time, forgetfulness, politics, people coming and going. The debts don't exist. At least, no one else [[remembers the debt]] but you. Maw. Your siblings.

It's easier to choose to do this. It's easier to choose the knife. It's easier to choose to keep going on. What other options are there? Let others pick your missions. Let others decide your ethics. Let others determine the methods. It's [[easiest to choose.]]

The letter arrives. You didn't know anyone had this address. No one had wanted it. Thomas, No Name, Corey... all off on other duties. Owl, perpetually out of town. It's formal as bad news comes. [[Your debts are being called in.]]

The orders are clear. The methods are chosen. Your feelings don't matter. Tell yourself, again. You chose this.