Chapter 364 — The First Newspaper
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 3
Godwin followed behind Santis out onto the academy's great plaza—or, in the local parlance, the "playground"—where many children were at play. It was drawing toward evening, and some adults who had gotten off work early had arrived as well; before class, these people, still in coarse work clothes with mud on their trouser legs, gathered under the magic-crystal streetlamps beside the playground, turning letter cards over in their hands by the lamplight.
A worker in factory uniform passing by paused briefly beside Godwin. He removed his felt cap, bowed slightly to Santis and Godwin in salute, and then walked on.
"Do you know why he bowed to you?" Santis asked.
"He must have known I am a scholar recruited by the lord..."
"No—only because you have knowledge. He was bowing to your learning, not to you," Santis said mildly, raising a hand toward a tall white wall on the far side of the playground. On that wall, Godwin saw a line of striking large characters:
"Neither knowledge nor men are noble, but knowledge makes men noble."
"Here, anyone has the right to pursue knowledge—it is even an obligation of Cecil citizens," Santis's voice roused Godwin from the shock that sentence had dealt him. "And after accepting this rule, I discovered something: under equal conditions, even a serf's child is no worse at learning things than a knight's child."
In fact, Santis was not being entirely truthful here—there was still a difference between the children of serfs and the children of nobles.
Owing to congenital malnutrition and harsh conditions during infancy, the children of serfs or the desperately poor generally did lag behind in both intellectual and physical development; and according to the lord, closing that gap would take at least a generation or two.
Yet it was precisely because of these avoidable disparities that Santis had come to see more deeply how important the order Gao Yang was establishing on this land truly was—a cause that could only be called great.
He did not wish Godwin Orlando—a scholar who had given up all his prospects to travel a thousand miles from the royal capital to the southern frontier, a true seeker of learning—to miss out on this great cause.
Godwin fell briefly silent, and a moment later posed a question: "Then does the thing I spent most of my life studying have no value at all?"
"Of course not. Knowledge always has value—only its uses differ," Santis shook his head. "In other words, knowledge itself is neither high nor low; the question is only whether it is suited to the present circumstances. I believe the lord asked you to write that newspaper not at all to bury your talents—and you yourself must understand that. Would putting your skill with language to writing popular news really damage the honor of so great a scholar as yourself? No. You simply cannot accept having to think from the same position as commoners, cannot accept having to understand the thinking of those so-called lower orders. But really—?"
Santis smiled. "We are in the same position to begin with. We are all merely seekers of knowledge."
Seeing the thoughtful look on Godwin's face, Santis went on: "And there is one more thing—I wonder if you have considered it, Mr. Orlando. Those commoners who have been through schooling can read what you write, and some can even read the Rune Tongue. Their research in these fields is certainly less deep than yours, but at least they understand something of it. And you... do you understand even the slightest thing about drying rice in the sun or tanning leather?"
Having said this, Santis closed his mouth and left the old gentleman before him to his thoughts. This was probably the most he had ever expressed his own views outside the classroom, and the most directly—since returning from that last trip to the royal capital, the second-rank arcanist had truly changed a great deal.