The carriage ride took several days to reach Vilta. It was a simple enclosed wagon that they locked the door of. The interior of the wagon was flat, with a simple straw bed and a piece of cloth to sleep on. It was probably the worst few nights' sleep I've ever had. When night fell, the carriage would stop, and the guards and driver would leave, and I would stay locked inside. They gave me food and water, of course, not much, and the little I got was something we might have fed to the chickens once.
The only window was a small square hatch that was on the main door; it was only openable from the outside, but as we travelled, they left it open. Whenever we stopped, it was in a town or village or once even just a roadside inn. I didn't even know such places existed; I saw nothing like it on that map; it only showed the major or more well-known towns. From the map alone, I figured it might only take a day or two to reach Vilta, but this felt like forever. I was left completely alone as I only overheard distant conversations of the guards.
They held me in the cell for about ten days before moving me out of the town hall and to the carriage. Assuming five days for a letter to reach Vilta, then five more days for the carriage. Or it could be 3 days for the letter since a lone traveller on horseback would move much faster than a wagon, right? It's impossible to know for certain.
I've been left alone with nothing but thoughts, and in my… unique condition, even thoughts might be dangerous. I've noticed changes in myself since the cave. I've noticed the existence of a scar across my chest. I've noticed my eyesight has improved; in fact, I never even knew my eyesight was bad, to begin with, but now I can see distant things in detail, not that it's ever been a problem. Strangest of all, I've noticed that I can remember my dreams.
This must be your doing, right? You, being in my head, can read my thoughts. It's funny, almost, you never speak to me really, but I am learning things about you. Almost like I can read your mind a little as well. All I know for sure is you're in my head, and you can change things that happen in there and in my body. You've done it before with my voice. What's next? My arms? My eyes? Are you going to take over my whole body and push my mind out?
A twitch of the eye. Thought so, but you can't, can you? You said you're stuck. You're frustrated and confused, that's why no matter what I try, you refuse to actually talk to me properly. I know a few things about you, Wrath. Some things you haven't done or haven't told me, but I feel them, as if an instinct of my own past. I know you're old, very old. I also know you need a host, that was meant to be me, but something went wrong. But what happened in that cave, really?
…
Nothing? If I had to guess, you tried to take my body; something stopped you from doing that. Half possessed, you made me go on a rampage as you freaked out. That sounds about right? You lost control, didn't you?
"It won't happen next time."
There you are. So there will be a next time, huh? Well, I can't fight, you know that. I'm weak, useless, pathetic and being sent to war. I will be used on the front lines to ensure the enemy wastes their ammunition on me rather than the real soldiers; such is the fate of a useless war slave. But you have a plan, don't you? Your mind is dark, and I can't read much, but I sense one word that is stronger than anything else: survive.
Nothing huh? If you told me your plans, I might be able to work with you. We could be partners for a while because I don't want to die either.
No? Fine, suit yourself. I'll do all I can to survive without you, but when the time comes, when I'm thrown to the wolves. Will you slaughter them? Like you did in the cave? To be honest… I would rather you didn't. I would rather you help me escape; I would rather run.
"Hé, salaud, on est là. Préparez-vous." [Oi, asshole, we're here, get ready]
The trot of hoves and the rattle of wheels grew louder. Brick floor, maybe? I assume he meant Vilta. The noise grew louder, the sound of people, thousands of people. Maybe more. The window on the door was closed today, so I couldn't see anything, only hear. It was bustling with voices and the sounds of people walking. I wish I could see the city. I've heard it's amazing, the city of spires they call it. But all I can do is listen to the chaos that is beyond these carriage walls. I've never heard so much at once. How many people lived in this place?
After a moment, the sounds of life faded away, and I heard metal chains dancing a loud clang. They lowered a gate. Then I heard and felt them detach the wagon from the horse. The wagon shifted and rocked unsteadily as it was pushed by humans now. It turned around and then moved backwards for a moment, the unsteady rocking forcing me to sit until it stopped. The door swung open.
"Prisonnier, descendez lentement du wagon." [Prisoner, step out of the carriage slowly.]
A spear was pointed at me from the doorway. I walked towards it slowly as the spear moved back, keeping the same distance. As I stepped down, I saw that I was surrounded by three other spears pointed at me, all held but guards. In front of me was a tall woman in armour, with short hair and a masculine voice.
"Tendez les mains pour qu'on puisse vous menotter." [Hold out your hands so we can handcuff you.]
I held my hands forward in front of me, and I clasped my hands together. The woman approached and tied a rope around my wrists tightly. As she finished the knot, the men with spears relaxed slightly but kept them pointed at me. The woman stepped behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward.
"Marche" [Walk]
We walked deeper into the cold, dark building. There were tight halls and no windows in sight. Was this perhaps below ground? There were only torches lighting the hall, but this seemed more like a place where guards would be, not prisoners. I peered through the doorways we passed briefly, more guards. Weapons, beds. This was an armoury or a barracks. We reached the end of the hall, and a large door stood before us. It took two men to push it open with some effort. Beyond the door were stairs, spiral stairs that went up.
The female guard shoved me forward as the two men started to pull the door closed behind me, shutting me in. Before the door closed fully, she uttered a word.
"Grimper" What did that word mean again? Climb. I suppose this isn't my prison, but why not escort me to my cell? Why only to here? Well, whatever. With that, I started to ascend the stairs.
I had been walking up the spiral staircase for ten minutes straight. My breath was ragged, and my legs were starting to ache. Before this, I was either sitting or standing for two or three weeks and now this? This was torturous. With shaky and weak legs, I pushed on up the stairs.
After another five minutes of walking up the stairs, I was sweating. My legs were shaking to the point where standing was a challenge, let alone walking further. I sat on the stairs to take a break. What the hell was this place? Have I been put in some magical torture chamber that goes on forever? No stairs can stretch this tall.
I sat there for five more minutes, giving my legs a moment of rest before continuing. But I thought, why bother going further? Why not just sit here for an hour, or three? I mean, I can't sleep here, I can't eat anything here, my hands are still bound, but at least I can take a decent rest from this agony.
"Hé, prisonnier? Tu as déjà atteint le sommet?" [Hey, prisoner? Have you reached the top yet?]
A soft voice called out from above. It sounded similar to my mother's voice, a little, for a moment, a small moment, I got excited, so excited I leapt to my feet and started to run up the stairs. But I quickly realised it wasn't her, how could it be?
I walked for only a few more seconds, circling the stairs maybe three more times before reaching the top. Waiting for me was a girl? No, a woman, a very small woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. She smiled at me when I rounded the corner.
"Ah, prisonnier. Vous voilà. Je craignais que vous soyez tombé et que vous vous soyez ouvert le crâne." [Ah, prisoner. There you are. I was afraid you'd fallen and cracked your head open.]
I shook my head as I approached the small woman, looking a bit closer at her face, and she looked older than me, at least, not that it was a high bar to cross. Perhaps a military conscript? I know that women who serve are given a choice if they want to fight or not, unlike the men.
"Tu es le dernier esclave de guerre, n'est-ce pas ? Trident Wood ?" [Tu es le dernier esclave de guerre, n'est-ce pas? Trident Wood?]
"Oui. Êtes-vous le directeur de la prison?" [Yes. Are you the warden?]
She smiled and nodded as she grabbed the rope around my wrist, pulling me across the room.
"Non. Je suis le bourreau." [No. I'm the executioner.]
"Bourreau? N'êtes-vous pas un peu petit?" [Executioner? Aren't you a bit small?]
She stopped walking, turned to me, and smiled warmly. Her hand then gripped my hand tightly, bending and twisting my arm. I yelped out in pain as my torso bent in the same direction my arm was being twisted, feeling like I could collapse to the floor at any moment.
"Vous pensez toujours que je suis trop petit?' [Do you still think I'm too small?]
"Pas de maman!" [No mam]
She stopped her assault and hooked her fingers in the rope that bound my wrist, pulling me along like livestock. This place looked exactly the same as down there. No light, no windows. But the hallway here curved in the same direction like the whole hallway was a circle.
"Voici votre cellule" [This is your cell]
We stopped in front of a door. As she opened it, I was blinded by the light. I held my hands up in front of my face on reflex as she pushed me forward into the room. Before I knew it, I felt the rope around my wrist fall away, and I heard the door behind me shut. Whatever just happened happened quickly. My eyes adjusted to the light and I realised. This cell had no outer wall.
Before me was nothing but the open sky. There was a floor under my feet, a wall to my back and walls to my left and right, but in front of me was nothing. It was outside. I walked closer to the edge. There was nothing out there. Then I remembered, I had walked upstairs for ten minutes.
Looking down, I saw it, the city below. It was vast, sprawling with towering buildings. This view, I thought, was something only a bird may witness; never in my wildest dreams did I think humans could build such things. Of course, I knew the buildings here were tall, but being atop it all, that was different. I could see many things: the walls of the city, the mountains in the distance hiding the ocean, the city streets, and the gladiatorial area I had heard about in legends.
I wanted a closer look, but as I got closer, my legs shook. The moment of awe gave way to reality. I had just climbed maybe hundreds of flights of stairs, my legs were weak, and I was standing on a ledge.
I stumbled, my arms shot out to my sides to regain balance, I panicked and tried to stand up straight. If I could do that, I could fall backwards. But I had leaned forward for the view. If I collapsed down there was nowhere for my hands to land, and I would fall. As I tried to regain balance, I felt a tug on the back of my shirt, a harsh and sudden pull. I fell back on my ass with a hard thud.
"Thanks."
I panted softly as I tried to calm myself from almost falling to my death. Just then, my right eye twitched.
"Oh, vous n'allez donc pas vous suicider ? Merde, j'ai perdu mon pari." [Oh, so you're not going to kill yourself? Shit, I lost my bet.]
Wait, her voice, it's distant. I turned my head to see that the door to the cell had a window on it like the carriage, and the girl, no, the small woman, was peering at me from the window.
"Eh bien, libre à vous de vous suicider. Sinon, la nourriture vient au lever et au coucher du soleil." [Well, you're free to kill yourself. Otherwise, food comes at sunrise and sunset.]
The window closed. I then realised my shirt wasn't tugged at all, it just felt like it was. I don't understand how you did that, but thank you, Wrath.
I lay on my stomach as I crawled to the edge, sticking my head over as I looked down at the city. Directly below, I could see a moat, but there was no water. It looked like I was at the southern edge of the city, and my cell faced north. The sun to my left was starting to set below the mountains. That means far out, as far as I can see and even further still is most, if not all, of the known world. If I could see far enough north, I could maybe even see the imperial city where my mother grew up …Mother… I wonder if she's in this city now? I wonder if she knows I'm here too.
"Oi, esclave de guerre." [Oi, war slave.]
I heard a soft female voice call out from behind me. Crawling away from the ledge and turning around, I saw the executioner looking at me through the door window.
"N'es-tu pas un peu jeune pour être un esclave de guerre?" [Aren't you a bit young to be a war slave?]
She stuck out her tongue and closed the window. I noticed that at the foot of the door was a tray of food. Had she actually been thinking of that comeback this whole time, to what I said earlier? Maybe she isn't just short, maybe she actually is a child.
I was awoken twice that night by screaming. The first was brief; however, when I woke, it was loud and very quickly got quiet. To be honest, it didn't even feel real; maybe Wrath was playing tricks on me. The second time was just as dawn was breaking. I heard screaming loud and clear from the next cell over. With no outer walls, there was nothing to muffle the sounds. It sounded like a fully grown man being tortured from the deep voice I heard that cried and begged for the torturer to stop. After that one, I couldn't sleep again. I just sat in the corner of my cell, as far from the edge as possible, while the man screamed in agony. After a while, I heard what I can only assume was him falling as his scream plummeted down below… Is that what I heard the first time? Does that mean there are cells above and below me as well?
I heard the door open as the torturer left the cell next to mine. I heard the footsteps get closer, and then the window to my cell door opened. It was the girl from yesterday.
"Bonjour esclave de guerre. Désolé pour le bruit de votre première nuit. Je devais m'occuper de votre voisin." [Hello, war slave. Sorry about the noise on your first night. I had to take care of your neighbour.]
Her face had blood on it, but she retained her warm smile as she looked at me.
"Avez-vous fait cela tout seul?" [Did you do that by yourself?]
She nodded and smiled like a small child showing their parent something they are proud of. This girl was scary, no matter what, I had to make sure not to get on her bad side.
"Je me suis un peu laissé emporter par la torture, désolé encore pour le bruit. Vous devez avoir peur." [I got a bit carried away with the torture, sorry again about the noise. You must be scared.]
Carried away? You mean she did that for fun? This was no girl; this was a demon. A monster, probably even worse than Wrath. She tilted her head at me as if waiting for an answer. Was I scared? I was terrified. I nodded.
"Voulez-vous que je vienne vous tapoter la tête pendant que vous êtes allongé sur mes genoux?" [Would you like me to come and pat your head while you lie on my lap?]
"HUH !? Non, non, c'est bon. Je vais bien. Ce n'est pas nécessaire, vraiment." [HUH!? No, no, I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's not necessary, really.]
"Vous êtes sûr ? Mais tu es si petite et si mignonne." [Are you sure? But you're so small and so cute.]
"Je vais bien, madame bourreau. Ce n'est pas nécessaire." [I'm fine, Madam Executioner. There's no need for that.]
"Madame Bourreau? J'aime la sonorité de ce nom. Appelle-moi comme ça à partir de maintenant et je te donnerai des points spéciaux de bon garçon." [Madam Executioner? I like the sound of that name. Call me that from now on, and I'll give you special good-boy points.]
I froze up, completely at a loss for what to say. I mean, how do you even respond to something like that in this type of situation?
"Vous avez l'air gentil. Je peux prendre le petit déjeuner avec vous ?" [You seem nice. Can I have breakfast with you?]
"Oui?"
We set and ate breakfast together with the door window between us. We ate in silence. As I ate every now and then, I would look up, and she was just staring at me, right at my face as she ate. Every time I glanced up and made eye contact with her, I looked away. I thought about moving away from the door, but the last thing I wanted to do was anger her. Once we finished eating, I held my food tray through the window for her to collect.
She grabbed the tray from the other side of the window and dropped it on the floor. She suddenly reached her arms through the window and grabbed me, pulling me into the door. My head hit the door hard and caused me to collapse. She shifted her grip and now had a hand on either side of my head. She looked at me as I regained awareness quickly from he impact. Her gaze was intense as she looked at me.
"Do you understand me?"
My eyes shot open wide as I looked at her. She just spoke Imperial. How the hell does she know Imperial? She smirked at my reaction.
"That means yes. Not every day you see a half breed Metonym in Vilta that understands Imperial. In fact, you're probably the only one alive. You're a cute boy, want me to buy you?"
Buy me? What the hell is wrong with this girl? She just tortured a man to death, then sat down to eat breakfast like it's any other day, and now she wants to buy me? Is she insane?
"I thought I was owned by the state and couldn't be bought like a private slave."
She groaned and released my head, retracting her arms to her side of the door.
"Don't go reminding me of reality. Let me fantasise a little bit."
From the small window where I was, I could see that she had stepped back and was pacing back and forward, both of her hands on her head, and she ruffled her head.
"Listen up, war slave boy. You're being sent to the front lines in two days. Now, do you want to die there or be my personal slave?"
"Why do you want me to be your slave?"
"Because you're cute, young, and frankly, I wanna fuck you."
I actually considered it. If I were normal, it would be an easy choice. But I'm not normal anymore, I have that one word that pulses in my mind like a primal urge, "survive". If he wanted, we could have broken out from the wagon and run, we could have run to the village, or we could have taken this offer right here and right now. But there's something else, isn't there, something deeper than that one word, a desire. You want to fight. Of course, you've been trapped in that cave for so long, you were so bored, you want to fight in the war, don't you? So even if I tried to say yes here and now, you would stop me, isn't that right, Wrath?
"Sure." Wait, I said it?
"No fucking way? Really? Alright, fuck yeah. I'll buy you, and then you'll be my cute little slave. Got it."
Fuck, Wrath. Why did you let me say that?
Two days came and went without another word from Miss Executioner. She would give me food twice a day like normal, but wouldn't speak to me. On the third day, she came to my cell, opening the door.
"Ok esclave de guerre, allons-y" [Ok war slave, let's go]
"Go, where?"
"Oh yeah! You're the one kid who spoke Imperial, that's right. Anyway, off to war with you."
"I thought you were going to buy me?"
"Huh? What? Oh, that, no, I was just turned on from torturing that guy before talking to you. Nothing personal. But you are cute. Try to make a beautiful corpse, okay?"
Without binding my hand, she grabbed my hand and pulled me along the hallway. I was too stunned to speak or even react. She shoved me into the stairwell and shut the door behind me.
I walked down the stairs, entered another carriage, and it left the city of Vilta.
Well Wrath. I guess you're going to get what you want after all.