A Question on Morality

[heirtothearcane]

"Do you think being rich makes us bad?"

All clinking at the dinner table halted at once. It was so sudden that Viatorus was pulled from his gazing into the distance to look at everyone around the table. The Archon had paused, set his cutlery down and only as Viatorus' eyes passed over him did he lift his head to stare at the young scholar.

"Why would it make us bad?" He asked in a deep voice with an unreadable tone that Isidor could only envy.

Now increasingly aware that all eyes were on him, Viatorus squirmed in his seat. "W-W-Well… Other people are poor. Some of them. We should share our wealth with them, shouldn't we?"

"Don't we?" The question came easily. Viatorus swore the man didn't need to blink.

"Well… I mean… a little bit?" He glanced to a tense Isidor whose eyes flickered between her brother and father. She knew all the financial comings and goings, not him. Maybe he should have talked to her before he said anything. Maybe he should just never have said anything at all. Ever. "We-We could share more. A-a-after all, we have a-all these m-mansions… a-a-and… houses."

Viatorus pressed his lips closed and the Archon continued to stare, as if he were a statue carved solely to express eternal disappointment at the dreamwalker's existence.

After the longest silence, the Archon asked, "Is knowledge important, Viatorus?"

"M-w-hh…" He took a second to clear his now incredibly dry throat. "Mm-Yes. Y-Y-Yes, o-o-of course it is."

"How important?" The Archon continued. If it weren't for the quickness of his response he would have seemed patient.

It wasn't a question he was prepared for. He fidgeted, but that didn't help. "W-Well, uh, w-well very. Very important."

"How important? Put a measurement on it," the Archon pressed. When Viatorus simply floundered under the pressure, the older man pressed further. "Should we enable people to dedicate their lives to it? Is it worth that? Is it worth seeking more knowledge and wisdom?"

That was simple enough. "Yes."

Quick as a whip, he followed up with, "How many?"

"Wh-What?"

"How many people should we fund in the name of learning? How many does knowledge deserve?"

"U-U-Um… I-I-I don't know…"

"Ten? Twenty? One hundred?"

"Maybe...? Yes…?"

"Which ones?"

"Wh-Which ones?"

"Which disciplines? Which areas? Which hundred people deserve funding?"

"U-U-Uh… Um… All of them?"

"So we should enable as many people as we can to learn and research?"

Without thinking, he latched onto the relief of an easy question. "Yes."

The Archon raised an eyebrow. "That requires a lot of money… Should we protect it?"

"Protect it?"

"Yes, protect it. Protect the knowledge and the researchers from people who want to steal it, ransom it, or destroy it."

"W-Well yes, o-of course."

He should have guessed the question before he heard it. "How much?"

"How… much…?"

"How much should we protect it? Should we lock it up? Should we surround it with cameras? Should we hire people to guard it?"

"Well… We should… put it somewhere safe?"

"And that's enough? You would be happy with that?" He shifted his weight to one side and folded his hands on his lap. "If an entire century's worth of journals were destroyed because someone broke through your lock, would you sleep soundly at night?"

A meek, "N-n-no…." escaped the dreamwalker. Terrified of whatever question the Archon had next he hurried to say, "But do we need such big homes? Do we need all this fancy food, or beautiful clothes?"

This didn't deter the Archon in the slightest. "How many expert chefs have studied in our kitchens? How many historical residences have been maintained and restored by us? How many aspiring tailors have been supported by us?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly, his answer all but a regretful wheeze.

"No, you don't. You don't know what we do for others, and you don't understand how it needs to be done. You have no concept of how the world works, or the necessity of a dignified appearance. Yet you sit there and suggest we are innately bad because we uphold a high standard of decorum." The Archon stared Viatorus down, the young mage wilting into nothingness. In the silence of the room and the stillness of those around the large table, he had nowhere to hide. "You should go and learn about the value of this family before you go and disparage it."

Viatorus didn't lift his head, didn't move, didn't breathe, and the Archon was content to let him sit in his discomfort for an agonising few moments. 

"There's no time better than the present," the Archon said suddenly and then returned his attention to his meal. "I give you my blessing to leave early to begin your contemplation."

Viatorus finally lifted his head, blinking at the Archon, who was no longer looking his way. The matter was settled, the discussion ended. Everyone else's eyes were on him. Waiting. Watching. He rose from his seat slowly, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he awkwardly got up and left. Isidor stood more gracefully, tipped her head to the Archon, and then followed him.