Dare I say "Lock Her Up"?

"I, _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."

That's the oath I took 34 years ago, the same oath taken by millions who choose to serve our nation over the years. Today, thousands of kids will raise their right hands and take that same oath. They become my brothers and sisters with the act, just as I am a brother to those who fought for this nation from the very first days.

To me, that oath still stands. I was never told, "OK, you're free of the obligation to both shave twice a day and follow the oath." I still defend the United States and the Constitution with my vote and my voice, not my M16A1 and entrenching tool.

There is a bond between those who served. Even if you were in peacetime and the guy at the end of the bar did four tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. We're the ones who held up our hands and took an oath. As Shakespeare so aptly put it: "we few, we happy few, we band of brothers."

Ignore interservice rivalries. Ignore the sniping and the jokes. An Air Force finance clerk is as much my brother as a fellow 11-Bravo. It takes a lot to break that bond. Which brings us to former US Army Private Chelsea Manning.

PFC Manning entered a guilty plea or was convicted on 31 felony counts by a court-martial. She released tens of thousands of classified documents to Wikileaks concerning the war in Iraq. She violated her oath a soldier and the oath she took when she received a security clearance. She was sentenced to 35 years at the Discipline Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, loss of all rank and pay, and a dishonorable discharge. She's walking the streets today because President Obama commuted her sentence.

Those aren't smears, those are facts. Now Manning has filed to run for the US Senate from Maryland. Give me a fucking break. Oh, and pointing out that Manning is still a convicted felon? That's attacking an LGBT person. Bullshit. I wouldn't trust her to hold a library card, let alone have the chance to violate yet another oath as a Senator.

Because we are always told that character matters. Fine. Call me old-fashioned, but when you swear to something before God (if you are religious) or give your solemn word to keep promises, it should mean something. It shows character. If you can't keep your oath, back out. But don't break your oaths and ever expect anyone to ever trust you again.

We need to be able to trust our elected leaders. I know, that's a hard thing to accept. The image of the crooked politico is as old as human power structures. But when you vote for someone, you are saying "I trust you to do the job." If you can't say that, then leave the space blank. If you can't trust the character of the candidate, if their past is questionable, then why expect them to change? Donald Trump shows the insanity of expecting officeholders to suddenly become better people when they enter the marble halls of power.

Chelsea Manning cannot be trusted. She's proven that. If she suddenly decides that her oath is restricting her, she'll toss it out like last week's newspapers. "But," I hear some of you say, "she was a whistleblower! She broke the law for the right reasons!" Again, bollocks. Her infodump was just more proof that war is hell. All it did was hurt US security and compromised operations against the same bad guys who think that beheading infidels is fun. I'm not one of those crazy types who think that all the world's 1.6 billion Muslims are coming to kill us, but there are threats, real ones.

And the US military exists to kill those threats. And the military is filled with my brothers and sisters who took an oath and uphold it every day. Chelsea Manning broke her oaths. As far as I'm concerned, she should have been executed by firing squad.

I would have eagerly volunteered for that duty. As would most of my brothers and sisters.

Dungeons & Dragons & Macroeconomic Theory

The ruling counselors of Ritherhithe had chosen to meet the adventurers on a terrace set on the walls of Rouguemont Citadel with a sweeping view of the river and sea-harbor, the fertile plains and the Drakonmet mountains in the distance. Arrayed on two tiers of benches with a throne for the ruling Doge in the center, the rulers of the city-state sat in splendid silks and jewels, their heavy chains of office showing their guild attachments. They looked at the raven-haired warrior who was obviously the leader of the band they had summoned.

"Lords of Ritherhithe, I am Sotiris Panou, known in many lands as the Burning Knight, bearer of the holy Gladius solis, the Sunsword." Sotiris paused as if expecting a reaction. When the assembled counselors failed to provide one, he moved on.

"Allow me to introduce my company." Sotiris gestured to a figured clad in black robes. From the shadows of her hood, two faintly glowing eyes observed the scene with ill-disguised contempt. "Azfaeh Shadowdancer, mistress of the art of arcane magic. Beside her is Hagas of Clan Iaryra, a peerless tracker and deadly with his bow." The elf made a half bow. "Behind Hagas is . . . oh, she was there a second ago. I'm sure she'll turn up. Missing at the moment is Marcovefa Lightfoot, of the Far Western Halflings. Quieter than a moonbeam at midnight and no lock can stop her for long. You might, um, want to send a few guards to look for her. She's probably headed for your kitchens." Sotiris tried to not look embarrassed as one of the guild masters said a few quiet words to an ornately-armored guard captain. As the captain began issuing orders, Sotiris learned over and whispered to Azfaeh.

"Remind me to tie that damn thief up and stuff her in a chest next time."

"You already tried that. She was out in less than an hour."

"Master Sotiris?" the counselor with the gaudiest chain spoke up. "We shall attend to you missing member, these last two are?"

"Of course, my apologies, Lord. To my left is Dengral Thundermaker, of the house of Thefric of Kaer Thunderrock. My boon companion for many years." Dengral clasped his mailed fists together and boomed out an ancient dwarven pledge "Take my beard should I fail you!"

Sotiris smiled at his old friend before turning to the last member of the party, a huge man with waist-length hair twisted into thick braids and a beard that would shame a dwarf. "I give you Helm Belasco Segarra, a soldier in the Temples of Terak. A guide to us all in these troubled times. Now, my Lords, how may we serve you?"

One of the younger masters rose from his place on the bench. "Master Sotiris, we have need of your services for a task that will be rewarding but carries some threat of death. We require a party to travel to Mount Wrekiln in the Drakonmets, where lairs the dragon Zersoir, Lord Of Fire. We need you to . . ."

"Slay the foul beast!" Sotiris interjected. "A solid plan, my lords, and one we shall be happy to execute, if you'll forgive my pun, for you. Why a dragon flying free over the Wine Sea could destroy your trade ships. And your farms look unguarded! Why Hagas was telling me that he spied a large herd of cattle hard up on the mountain foothills! Now, we usually take 50% of the treasure, but that's open to negotiation . . ."

"Master Sotiris! We don't want you to kill the beast! We don't want you to get close to it! What we need is for you to do is . . ." the official drew in a deep breath ". . . provide us with a reasonable estimation of the total value of the hoard of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire, based on observed depth, width, and composition of all treasure piles to be found in the cave system designated to be the Lair of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire."

Dengral sputtered with rage. "Are the lot of you mad? There's going to be enough gold in yon caves to make everyone rich, and you want us to count it an' not be taking it?"

"We don't want you to touch one thing in those caves. Zersoir is very particular about that. And of the last audit, there was an estimated 12 million Ritherhithe Guilders worth of gold in that cave. The dragon has been active a few times, we need to see if anything has been added. Oh, that herd of cattle? It's there for the dragon, he wakes up hungry."

Sotiris was able to speak again. "But why do you want us to count the gold? Don't you want it in your hands?"

At this, the council laughed. "Sir, you may be a master of war, but economics is beyond you." said the one wearing an onion-shaped turban, "that may well be the safest gold in the Twelve Republics, if not in all of Ebrerth. It's guarded by a great dragon, after all!"

Behind Soritis, Azfaeh had begun chuckling. Her laughter was never the most comforting sound in the best of times. "I begin to see what's happening here, Soritis. These merchant princes have been using the promise of the dragon's hoard to back speculation. The money is there, but it can't be stolen, so it's seen as a safe way to trade." she turned and fixed the counselor who had been speaking with her unearthly gaze. "You. The guilds own the shares, and sell them for cash? Invest them in trading missions? Was this how you were going to pay us?"

The man was ash gray after seeing Azfaeh's eyes, but he managed a nod. "500 sh-shares of City Stock each. We were hoping that you would cash them out by investing in our endeavors here, perhaps occupying one of our border forts as a headquarters."

"So we would be on hand to fight your wars for you as well. I have to admit, it's a nice scheme." Sotiris was back on his mental feet. "It's a good deal or will be after a little negotiation. We will discuss it this evening, once we find out where Marcovefa has gone. But one thing . . . why us? We've battled Titans and explored the Astral plane. We've battled in the very fires of Hell itself! If you just needed someone to measure the treasure, why not send a few apprentices?"

For the first time, the Doge of Ritherhithe, blind and bent with age, spoke from his throne at the center of the rows of benches.

"Because, young sir, as we told you, sometimes the dragon wakes up. And he wakes up hungry."