Marielda 13: The Killing of the King-God Samothes By The Traitor Prince Maelgwyn Pt. 3
Friends at the Table
Friends at the Table
4.9 • 2.2K Ratings
🗓️ 6 October 2016
⏱️ 119 minutes
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Summary
It was strange. Every morning you'd see The Black Slacks walking to work. By this point, the air would crackle around them, thick with rumours of another potential strike, another march. They'd walk in groups, or in pairs, or alone. Hands in pockets. They whistled. But not that morning. At first, it was as if they'd vanished. District management began to panic, sending runners to nearby factories to confirm reports: The Black Slacks had disappeared. No. Not disappeared. In The Southern Bucket, a woman in plain clothes finished her drink and stood up, and, with the brilliant rush of the sound of the chairs on stone, the rest of the pub stood up with her. They poured out into the street and mingled with the other citizens and on the other side of town a storehouse containing sleeping pala-din exploded. Men and women dessed like anybody else stepped out of the crowd and moved quickly to barricade Maddermarket Street. Another pala-din storehouse became flame, and the flow of foot traffic in the city suddenly became a march. The Black Slacks were everywhere, and the high sun pressed down, and today was the day. Today was the day.
This week on Friends at the Table: The Killing of the King-God Samothes By The Traitor Prince Maelgwyn Pt. 3
Don't let me doubt you
Episode description by Jack de Quidt
Music by Jack de Quidt
A transcription is available for this episode here.
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Transcript
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| 0:00.0 | There's a phrase you might hear round academia way. |
| 0:05.0 | Wherever you find two scholars, you'll find a schism. |
| 0:10.0 | Now most folks might think that's incorrect and they're right before the wrong reason. |
| 0:17.0 | See a lot of people think the scribes and intellectuals at the university are all the same type, a bunch of ivory tower elitists who believe the same thing. |
| 0:28.0 | Couldn't be more wrong. |
| 0:30.0 | See, the university tower is made of old concrete, not ivory, and the members of the 12 academies, |
| 0:36.4 | well, they have as many cracks in them as the walls do. |
| 0:40.2 | The truth is, every scholar is a schism. |
| 0:43.0 | It's been that way since the first student, his most honorable contradiction, Sima. |
| 0:48.0 | Hell, he couldn't even make up his mind whether or not to found the school. |
| 0:52.0 | Sure, it was clear he wanted to teach and to learn with mortals, but Sammethies had not only forbidden |
| 0:58.2 | regular folk to learn, he had woven knowledge such that it made learning an incomprehensible thing. |
| 1:05.2 | So Samat's loyalty kept him from pursuing that particular cerebral desire. |
| 1:11.2 | But Samat had garnered the iron God's affection with his reflective and elusive |
| 1:17.6 | charm. |
| 1:18.6 | And Samathies, well, that boy don't miss a beat. |
| 1:21.5 | He saw what Samat wanted, felt it, knew that there is nothing |
| 1:24.8 | that will stifle the love of an inquiring mind more than to stand in the way of its study. |
| 1:30.7 | So he took Samont's hand in his and taught him how to make a brick, and then a wall, and then a school. |
| 1:38.0 | It was sacred ground, for one place where folks could learn under the blessing of the gods and bit by bit it |
| 1:46.6 | creeped out. |
| 1:49.1 | Samathies hadn't realized it. |
... |
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