Quotes About Scythedom

The scythedom—or what was left of it after the global revolts—had a new calling. They no longer brought uninvited death. Instead they brought much-needed peace.

They had grown violent, turning riotous. Venerated statues were being pulled down on the scythedom tower grounds, and scythe vehicles that had been foolishly parked on the street were set aflame.

But Citra could. She knew that calling, too. Their minds and bodies had spent a year being trained to be society's perfect killers. Ending life had become a part of who they were. And she couldn't blame him for wanting to turn his blade on the corruption that was rooting its way through the scythedom—but wanting to, and actually doing it, were two different things.

Who's the fat guy?" Citra asked. "He looks important," said Rowan. "Indeed," said Scythe Faraday. "'The fat guy,' as you call him, is the High Blade. The most powerful man in the MidMerican Scythedom. He presides over conclave.

Take with water and within seconds your fingers will secrete a transdermal poison. Anyone you touch for the next hour will be instantly and painlessly gleaned." The Weaponsmaster was so impressed, he came up to the stage to take a dose, then, in the ultimate demonstration, proceeded to glean the saleswoman. She sold fifty vials of the stuff to the Scythedom posthumously.

The day would not end until a new High Blade was chosen - because, if anything, the scythedom had learned from the abuses of political contests in the Age of Mortality. Best to get an election over as quickly as possible, before everyone became even more bitter and disgusted than they already were.

Idiots. The scythedom was cursed with idiots. They might have been blessed with wisdom, but common sense was a trait sorely lacking among them.