Open Borders

A horseman shivered from the cold air as his mare galloped toward the manor. The guards immediately allowed his passage when Enne and Alejandro stepped out. The half-elf glanced over, seeing the tired brown eyes of her government counterpart. It was none other than the mayor’s secretary and her close confidant.

“Brandon?” she spoke. “Long time no see! I imagine Sala-tsar has you running clockwork these days.”

“All for Gardenia’s security, Miss Bouvire,” he answered cordially.

He was a first-generation Gardenian, coming from Black descendants. His neatly braided hair was tied in a ponytail. His beard was trimmed and orderly, as ordained by Gardenia’s strict guidelines. His muscular physique was meant for the patrol’s arduous tasks, but he handled the office’s daily affairs. When it came to the most well-rounded guards on the force, he only rivaled Kenneth. Enne found it unfortunate he relegated himself to remedial work.

“I suppose you aren’t here on break,” she continued. “I was actually on my way to see her.”

“We were?” the wanderer asked, meeting her glare.

“Yes, yes. It’s been a while since I spoke to her. Like maybe last week, I think.”

“The matter is urgent,” Brandon said. “It’s not about the fields either—”

“I’m aware of what’s going on in the western sector,” she nodded.

Enne took a deep breath, relieved it had nothing to do with her. The mayor heckled the half-elf often for what she deemed to be the most trivial things. She’d save him the headache of being the messenger

“Thanks for the heads up!” she said.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Bouvire,” he responded with a faint smile.

He glimpsed the wander before bowing before leaving on his steed. She noticed his subtle change when he saw the wanderer. Alejandro overlooked this with complicit silence, although he found comfort in her presence.

“Hey,” she called. “Take a break.”

“There’s a lot to do today.”

“Tied to what’s going on?”

He nodded with a drawn-out gaze before steering his horse to gallop away. It was surprising Rita didn’t storm through in typical fashion. Her eyes gazed upon the tall buildings of the small city, reminded of the growing problem to the west

“Well, that didn’t sound good,” the wanderer commented.

“No, it doesn’t,” she responded. “We’ll have to put our spar on hold.”

“Of course. Where’s her office?”

“At the precinct. It’s along the city’s edge, going north. We’ll have to take Liz.”

“No! No horses!” his voice trembled.

“Do you not like horses?” she smirked, seeing him look away.

“Eh, no! I get all uncomfortable.”

“Of all the things you—Nevermind. I can use a good workout, anyway.”

They arrived at the precinct, finding it had aged terribly through time. Alejandro discerned the discolored paint over graffiti and window frames with reinforced seals. The building stood a few stories high, with a compound along the side. Some guardsmen were training in hand-to-hand combat within the central lot. The wanderer noticed there weren’t any firearms visible in the spectators.

However, Rita trained alongside them, revealing an impressive amount of muscle the wanderer envied. Her fatigues fit her frame, avoiding being grabbed while her sports bra allowed her to move quicker. A trainee swung a baton at her, which she blocked off to deliver a hard strike. Her short ponytail wafted against the rhythm of her parry with impressive prowess. It wasn’t long before she noticed Enne where she stopped training. She threw a dry towel over her shoulder as she approached them.

“Here she comes,” Enne whispered. “Damn, she looks good.”

The wanderer noticed her fawning tone.

“They’re hard at work for the upcoming festival,” Rita spoke tiredly.

“No firearms?” Alejandro questioned.

“And who the hell are you?” she responded with an attitude.

“My advisor,” Enne answered.

She seized up the wanderer before looking at the half-elf. Rita’s frown met her counterpart’s smug grin. They never got along since the mayor was often at odds with Enne’s gung-ho approach.

“You, advisor?” the mayor dismissed. “And he hasn’t even been screened, I imagine?”

“He’s staying on my land,” she responded. “That’s not your jurisdiction.”

“Hmph. Being the smart-ass you usually are.”

“I know you didn’t invite me over to insult me. I’m sure you have much bigger things to worry about than little ol’ me. Aren’t you cold wearing that top?”

“What? Hot and bothered?”

“You’d wish, wouldn’t you?”

Rita scoffed before leading them toward the building’s entrance.

“So—Friendly,” the wanderer spoke.

“Let’s talk about this in my office.”

They followed the mayor, seeing the guards throughout the narrow hallway. It was a strange sight since most guards patrolled the expansive borders. The wanderer felt the hawkish trailing him as they reached the other end. The trio took the elevator to the top floor to the command center. They have met a cluttered scene of maps, radios, and documents scattered along with several desks and walls before reaching the mayor’s office at the other end. The scent of weathered wood and aged stone lingered.

Her office was pristine and organized, contrasting the chaotic command center. The freshly painted was sloppily done. Rita flung her towel onto her chair before leaning against the window. She took a moment to observe the gentle stream below. Her confident demeanor shifted, letting out a tired sigh, gesturing them to sit.

“So, you gonna say the obvious?” Enne asked, meeting her counterpart’s annoyance.

“The merchants,” she responded. “They’ve noticed a disturbance from the north. A lot of refugees, a lot of bandits. As you know, we’ve had a small spike in refugees as of late.”

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about as well. We have plenty of space to house them until we can situate—”

“Were you not listening? There’s a chance bandits could be mixed in the lot. We can’t afford to bring them in.”

“You’re acting like they’d be an organized bunch,” the wanderer winced, his arms crossed when he met her scowl. “Bandits aren’t usually organized. Doing a bit of a trojan horse, well, that would be hard to pull off.”

“This isn’t your business, wanderer,” Rita said.

“I’m her advisor now, so it kinda is.”

“You really trusting him?” the mayor redirected her attention toward Enne. “After all the trouble we’ve had with wanderers in the past?”

“I saw everything,” he chimed with a passion that stumped his partner. “You shot at defenseless people… You left them in the cold—"

“I can corroborate the story too,” Enne said. “That’s against our values as a community. We provide housing and provide jobs that suit them. There’s plenty of projects that can be done! Hell, we can begin farming as you promised on your campaign.”

“That won’t do. We’re stopping the vetting process altogether until we sort this out.”

“What? Why?”

“We don’t have the manpower to handle an influx and a festival.”

“Then cancel the festival, it’s just a year.”

“Not happening.”

“We can’t just leave people out in the cold, Rita. Either way, the festival requires manpower, anyway. Screening, heavy security—”

“It helps our economy, genius. This is the time of year when we get the most trade before the winter comes. I’m not sure if you noticed, but these winters have grown harsher these past few years.”

“We have a surplus, don’t we?”

“Yes, but it’s just enough to feed those who already live here.”

“For how long?”

“If we take in any more refugees, that’s just more mouths to feed—”

“You’re not answering my question! One winter, Rita. One winter is all it would take to sort this out. The problem won’t go away on its own, but we have the resources to handle this.”

Rita withheld her laughter. The wanderer noted their radically different approach throughout their discussion; One based on a humanitarian need and the other on pragmaticism. Gardenia seemed to be in a unique position to do more than many other settlements he visited.

“Well, it’s my call,” Rita reminded.

“Your call?” she responded. “So, it’s your call to have them freeze to death?”

“We’re not in a position to be everyone’s hero. How many more of the sick and hungry should we take in before the city suffers? It’s not an easy choice, but if we cut the humanitarian bull—”

“It’s the responsibility of the power to help those in need. This town was built by the hands of the sick and poor for a prosperous future!”

The mayor massaged her head, looking away in defeat. Rita never shied away from her disdain of immigrants. As the city grew, the community was at odds with newcomers who had different values. Although it was a small portion, they were vocal in their backing of the mayor’s xenophobic-lite policies.

“The council has to agree to it too,” Enne continued.

“It’s within my executive powers to enforce this. I don’t need the council.”

“So, why invite me here if you won’t listen? Have you forgotten your roots?”

“Roots?” she narrowed her eyes. “My family came from a shithole over a hundred years. I’ll be damned if I let Gardenia slip into what the outliers became. We start letting more people in, we lose what makes us Gardenian.”

“But it wouldn’t come to that,” Enne rebutted passionately. “What makes us Gardenian are the communities we create. Most people who grew up in Gardenia for the past hundred years aren’t native. The lands are what we make them, and this land is for those who seek prosperity.”

“Well, you tell that to everyone that meets the new folks that come in. Disease, mental disorders, crime. We had to get two fellas for trying to assault a woman. They don’t feel safe with them around—”

“All the doing of poor sanitation and poor economic conditions. You do understand those concepts, yes? It seems that anything past a hundred years isn’t that important to you.”

“You don’t know shit about me.”

“No, but I knew your grandfather. He came with nothing, just like the refugees out there. They come hoping for better opportunities because where they came, they had none.”

Her voice trembled, remembering the details from long ago. Her eyes revealed a pain she couldn’t express in words. Memories of their arrival on a miserable day harkened a sorrowful tone, the sick and those seeking hope from the darkness. It wasn’t an easy thing to forget.

“To your average person getting by,” the mayor spoke, resolute in her tone. “They could give two hoots. We have neither of those problems here, and I don’t need my streets covered with garbage from another broken town. It’s not our responsibility. My grandfather was nothing like them.”

“You never knew him. You never got to hear his story, but I don’t think you’d listen because you are so far from your roots. Their problems are Gardenia’s problems. You want to stop migrants from coming here in droves, we address the source.”

“Well, I’m addressing it… Our way.

“If you spoke to any refugees, they’d all want the same thing: peace of mind.”

“We have a responsibility—No, I have a responsibility to our citizens. You can’t come here and tell me how to run my operation. You may be the lord of the land, but you can’t infringe upon our freedoms.”

“The moment I feel that you’re infringing upon the will of the people, you’re out.”

“Remember, Princess. I was voted into office with the help of your brother. I think I’m doing a good job.”

“Or for Mathias? Your policies seem to line up.”

“You don’t say? My political beliefs line up with his?”

Bitch, Enne clenched her fist.

“I’ll schedule a meeting in the coming days,” the mayor continued.

“Coming days?” she uttered. “The festival is in less than 3 weeks. In a few days, you would already have to begin setting up.”

“And that’s part of the reason I brought you here was to inform you of what I was thinking.”

“The borders stay open. Understood?”

Rita responded with a reluctant nod, meeting her glare once more before she turned away. The uneasy tension lingered as she walked out the door. Alejandro remained silent, following close. He recalled many atrocities in his travels, observing conditions in which people lived. The support they had was nonexistent, a far cry from the sanctuary of Gardenia. Parsing between the two’s positions made for an uneasy narrative.

Enne stormed out of the room with the wanderer steps behind. Her anger rattled the creaking floorboards with each step. They didn’t say anything until they left the precinct while walking for another block before Alejandro could walk next to her.

“I can’t believe that bitch,” she uttered, hoping the wanderer couldn’t hear.

“En, you’ve gotta cool off,” he said.

She stopped at a corner, observing the passerby around the city square. Her hands trembled, taking a deep breath to ease her nerves. The smile she tried to show faltered against her prevalent scowl. Her eyes watered as her lips tried to form a statement. Alejandro waited for the impassioned woman to find her words as she stared at the wall.

“It’s hard for me to comprehend,” she said.

“She’s a real handful,” he responded. “That tinge of tribalism, it’s familiar.”

“You’ve seen it elsewhere? Well, of course.”

“The old us against them. They’re trying to destroy our culture! I don’t think she means it in a vile way. It seems like it’s from experience.”

“It doesn’t really matter now, though. This is such a brash decision on her part.”

“She’s young. She doesn’t know any better.”

“Rita shouldn’t have run for office.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“It’s not my place to decide their future,” she answered.

“But,” he spoke. “It sounded like you wanted more of a hand in the city’s affairs.”

“Of course.”

She sealed her lips, but the conviction rested within the pair of silver eyes.

“The difference between Gardenia and the others is the agency to choose our future. She’s doing what she thinks is best, but we can sway her—I know we can. Unfortunately, we aren’t in a position to lend aid to other towns. That was perhaps the greatest vice in our development. Our policies have become more isolationist.”

Everything she said, everything she felt showed. She never ceased to amaze him with her compassionate approach, especially with all the power she possessed. A smile crept along his face as he walked ahead of her. He caught her when she stumbled toward him to keep up.

“You’re an interesting one,” he remarked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned.

A moment of silence resulted in a returned smile as she regained her composure.

There was a bit of contention with this chapter, for better or worse.
Here I introduce one of the themes to the story: the concept of open borders.
Without getting into the nitty-gritty, both made decent arguments on their positions.
Both feel like it's the right thing to do.
As a writer, I express. As a political junkie, I seek to spark a conversation.
Root out the bias of a left-right dynamic and you'll see the point in politics:
To address the needs of a people.
I write this with an open mind, despite my particular leaning.
I hope as a reader, you'll absorb this with an understanding.
After all, reading fiction supposedly makes one more open-minded.
But, I ramble! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Thanks for reading! :3