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He walked up to one of the guards, grabbed him by the collar, took a deep breath - which was just an excuse for him to collect his thoughts - and began shaking him.
"How is it possible that the Black Helms turned into undisciplined, uncoordinated barbarians worth less than mud mixed with horse shit after turbulent rain? After years of seeing blood spilled on the battlefield and almost losing an eye this is still the saddest excuse for an armed force I've ever seen! I'm disgusted beyond belief that an old sack of bones like me, with a back that won't stop aching, can still dance around you like a fly around a pile of dung! Thank the Dragons I quit the service so you useless morons don't tarnish my name with this pathetic display!"
"W-What the fuck do you want?!"
Tossing the man, Jet made the guard sit down in front of him to drive home just how much he's being looked down on.
"What I want to know is why you decided to crack open the skulls of a few plebeians just because of a little dancing. Or better yet, how you dare to do it when it's clear you're not "guards" of the realm but rather petty criminals, as you couldn't defeat a stiff breeze, much less repel any sort of hostile force. And you better answer me quick, before I drag you out of the city myself and beat some sense into you, or the soul out of your chest!"
"The satrap will have your head for this!"
The guard cursed as he struggled with the dust his landing whipped up.
"The satrap?"
Jet spoke out loud. But deep inside he realized this was not just some overzealous peacekeepers abusing the citizenry. This little pissant wouldn't just casually threaten someone with the local governor, unless he was directly involved already. Otherwise he'd have to be notified and heads would roll for troubling him with such a minor incident.
"Who's the satrap here?"
Deep down he begged it to be anyone but a member of House Mnemon.
"Cathak Jirobo, you ingrate!"
Jet sighed with relief. It's only a Cathak. He can deal with those. But this bodes ill. House Cathak having a deep rooted warrior culture and being one of the most militant houses usually reserves "esteemed" positions like that of Satrap for those they deem "failures", i.e. anyone not a soldier. If his suspicions are right, the governor could prove to be quite a nuisance. But he had to be sure. So he drew his firewand and pointed it at the Black Helm.
"And why did the satrap order the violent suppression of the crowd?"
The guard's attitude changed swiftly as he started fearing for his life.
"I-I don't know! I swear! He just doesn't like it when people start gathering!"
The pieces started falling into place. Food shortage in a farming settlement, rampant poverty, the satrap fearing congregations. House Cathak was never concerned with things that don't involve fighting. They are draining this satrapy, and likely many others, dry in preparation for the coming succession war. And the satrap is fearing rebellion from the discontent citizens.
