A painting. We found a painting in the middle of the tunnel. Age has blanched it but the figure remained. Five on each side, a battle, a terrible battle waged. One side seems to be illuminated while the other is shrouded in darkness. I wonder who won.
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Why am I even trying?
Leo met the morning sun with a squint. Beams of light found passage in the tiny cracks on the earthen wall, riddling the sand with spots. Some struck his bare and battered flesh.
He longed for sleep, grasping every fleeing fiber of it. In fact he longed to bury himself in a slumber too deep he would be cradled forever. In his dreams, the cell was gone. He was back at the palace with Theo, his father and his mother. The pesky sand on his back was the soft beaver skin mattress. The muddled water was ale served in his favorite tavern. The cold shivering nights bare of comfort were warm naps by the fireplace. The coughs were glee. The sneezes were laughter. In his dream, he was back home.
Waking was the worst part of sleeping. With one flick of his eyelids he was sundered to the reality he despised. Gone was the mirth in the taverns. The mattress had faded into sand. The food was hard tack. And the memory of his murder was fresh.
The thought of sleeping forever did brushed his mind more times than he was comfortable with. Why was he even trying? Why was he breathing? Why should he get up? For what? Another day without atonement? Another day of remembering what he did?
Perhaps he should just stay here, eyes shut and mind drifted. A guard's whip would come for his tender flesh but why would that matter? All the better, he mused. He killed and it wasn't an accidental thing. He decided, he thought hard as the hourglass drizzled its last sands- it was murder.
Back in Holm, the punishment for murder was execution. Not many cases of the crime was judged in the city but when it did happen, the city center would be brimming with watchers. The murderer would have both hands shackled by iron chains, kneeling on the wooden platform with head sheathed in a burlap sack. The executioner's blade was always a longsword, sharp with a glinting edge, a few fingers longer than a usual longsword for reach. Death would come through the sword to the heart. It was a painless death for the most part. The criminal would jerk when the sword protrudes to its chest, but the cold grip of death would soon creep. But for its almost painless nature, the execution was mostly symbolical. A sword to the heart. It was how the Union always worked and it was also how justice was carried out- powerful, efficient, swift.
Now Leo had murdered. The burlap and the chains were missing and the angry clamor of justice of the watchers were but a silent morning breeze. But if a guard would execute him for dallying his sleep, then wouldn't that be justice?
Leo pulled himself into a crooked sit. His back was against the cold iron bars. His head drooped, chin to his chest. He wasn't alone. The other slaves in their own cells presented the same wretched postures. It eluded him what pushed his eyelids up, what stiffed his back in a sit, what made him decide to keep on living. Perhaps the Omniscient deemed it necessary to prolong his punishment. Perhaps he was too vile of a criminal for the swift death of the longsword.
The door opened and man in some fine clothes entered with his slaves. He garments were some thin cloth, fastened only by belt. The sleeves were cut, presenting the man's tattooed arms. All of his fingers had shiny rings on them and both his wrists were cupped with bracelets. His face was narrow on his raised chin. His cheeks were pierced, three painful-looking rings biting on each side.
He paced, sandals seemed to float in the sand and not touching dirt. The two slaves followed with bowed heads. Their clothes were rags lied as being clothes, dirty beyond filthy and they smelled. Huge woven baskets were slung on their shoulders. They began handling breads from the baskets, the slaves behind bars catching one loaf each.
Leo also received his. The brown loaf was far from the tender breads baked in the palace of Holm. The balmy smell reeked of cheap ingredients and old wheat. But it was better, far better than hard tack. The others devoured their parts with huge bites.
"Eat. Yes, eat. Fill your bellies and munch to your satisfaction." The man in fine clothing said. He wore a smile not fitting to his narrow face. "You poor things are deprived of good food. Hard tack eh? Rations for the wretched. Well beginning now you wouldn't have to bite even a single teeth on hard tack no more. You will be fed. You will be clothed. You will live in a place far better than this."
Mumbles floated as the slaves looked at each other. Some bloomed smiles, others were still shocked. Leo was placid. It sounded good. Fed, clothed, good roof above their heads. Unfortunately it was too good to trust.
The man raised his finger. The ruby ring glinted. "I am Helgos. And you things are now my partners."
Smiles froze. The murmurs faded. Leo knew it. Too good to be true.
"Who are you?" Asked one brave but probably foolish man three cells away.
"Taskmaster Helgos. Didn't I say so? And I mean to help you."
"Horsecrap. Turds. You think I would believe that I am saved just like that? You think I would just let go of mine misgivings just because a savior suddenly showed?"
"Savior? No. No" Helgos shook his his head twice as his dark painted eyelids turned to the man. "Let's get this misconception fixed. I am not your savior. No. Why would you think like that? I give you food and you look up to me as a charitable fool? Treat me like a business partner."
He leaned back on the wall and crossed his arms. "I am a manager. You things are slaves and I am willing to train, feed and clothe you in exchange for rights."
"What rights?"
Helgos waved his hand. "Sponsors. The Hammer Season has passed the trial period. We have arrived in the second phase boys. A lot of people will watch now. The fighting pit will be brimming. And how wasteful it would be for one to disregard this unique source of publicity. The people love you fighters. And in connection, they will love the businesses you endorse."
A dozen set of blinking eyes met Helgos. Leo too was confused.
"Ah I see you things don't get it yet. Let me give an example. There is this brothel in the outskirts of the northern wall, Twinkle Jingle is the name don't ask me about their poor naming skills. Twinkle Jingle just began its operation just a month ago so frequenters are few. They sought my help in promotion. Now if one of you gets famous with the people then I would give him the sponsorship. Every start of a match you'll just have to yell, 'Twinkle Jingle is where I get my pleasure. Quality whore for real men'. Or something like that. Twinkle Jingle will pay me and I will cut you a part of the payment. Simple as that. So you things are my boys now. I will train you not only in surviving out there but also in gaining the heart of the masses. In fact one of you is already a little famous."
He looked at Leo. "The Castonian! Ha. Word is spreading that you eat iron for breakfast. Though the Twinkle Jingle sponsorship doesn't match you. Sometimes we have to match the sponsor with the nature of the fighter. Something hardy perhaps like a blacksmith shop. I don't know. We need to refine your brand, make your appearance more steely. Cold. I can see paintings around the city depicting you with spear. Brilliant!" He look transferred to the dead man in the cell beside Leo. "We got a sleeper here. That could still be turned into a brand. Always sleeping, always drowsy. But he dreams of killing all the time! What do you think? Some people would love that aye?"
The man was obviously dead, face shoved on the sand and feet limp.
"He's dead" Leo said.
"Dead? Like dead, dead? Deceased? Dammit."
He snapped. The two slaves turned the key and entered the cell. One held the corpse's head while the other grabbed the legs as the corpse was hauled with hanging arms.
"Now where was I? Yes. Business. You will work with me and we will flood our purses with gold. Ain't that great?"
"I just want to live sir." Said one docile slave from a few cells away.
"Oh no. With that we don't have a problem. You will all live. Well many of you anyway. The first few days of the Hammer Season are the bloodiest, deathmatches ain't pretty I tell you. But deathmatches will be seldom from now on. The organizers will get creative with their games. Entertaining the masses is the priority after all. Without entertainment what is the purpose of the game? So rest you worries aside partners. Let's be rich."
They were chained despite Helgos' friendly preaching. The guards lined them in a single chain bound to each of their wrists. They walked outside, waddling like ducks.
Leo squinted to the sun. Bustles of a lively city rang his ears. The houses were lined neatly, made of chunks of stones rather than by bricks. The roofs were flat and slanted, all brown to dust and sand.
Merchant stalls stood beside the buildings. A plethora of goods were peddled, sometimes in droves though mostly by piece. Most of the goods were food of course. Some were familiar like flatbreads and fish. Others were exotics Leo had never tasted nor had the intention of tasting. Skewered scorpions, dried snakes, rats- and yet customers flocked.
Nobody regarded them except the children. The brats ran beside and poked them with sticks. Sometimes they would throw stones, not strong enough to cause injuries but more than enough for annoyance. Leo just walked and followed Helgos.
The bustles of the city soon descended into the squalor of the slums. This seemed to be a poorer part of the city, an older portion with cracked stone walls and ragged streets. The hardened sand beneath Leo's feet was slimy. Dark liquids flowed to canals though most of the time it just flooded the way. The brats earlier were gone and replaced with urchins. Teenage gang members eyed them behind hoods. There were beggars now, some dying while others probably already dead.
They soon reached a building. It had a tall wall around with guards perched on top. They entered the iron gate secured with spikes. Leo expected a house but seeing the insides made him wonder if house could be the word. It looked more like a school to him. The center was a wide open space with a roof. Strange weapons and armors were lined in wooden racks and several fighters in ridiculous attires sparred against wooden dummies. The most outrageous one was a man in a cloak lined with bird feathers. He wore a helm shaped like a beak.
"This is where I train you to make money boys." Helgos smiled a satisfied one and put his hands on his hips. He looked back to them. "Let's be rich."
The whole day was spent with Helgos' servants giving them a bath. Leo's last bath was too long ago, a distant memory of water dribbling on his skin. Oil was provided, cheap one with a balmy smell unlike the one they use at the palace. But it was oil and it served well to strip his skin of clinging dirt. The only uncomfortable thing was the slaves, all female, brushing his naked body. Helgos was there too, thin arms crossed on his chest and standing with a smile on the tub's side.
Leo's grand form was washed by the bath. His soiled face cleared, bringing his features to view. His hair which looked brown earlier, reverted to its golden hue.
The water had a shade of brown when Leo stepped out and Helgos had a smirk on his narrow face. "Ah so pretty! If not for that thing sticking between your legs I would have thought you are a woman. I can see some angle with you being flocked by ladies. That could be good for our business, Castonian. I'm sure at least a couple of young girls would send gift to you, money, flowers, exquisite things..." he paused, smirk widening. "You can keep all for yourself except the money of course. We'll have to split that."
The remark was unneeded but Leo thought there was a compliment in there somewhere. And he was too tired to find wherever it was. He just nodded as he was led to a room full of hungry slaves. They were already chomping on greasy red meat laden with spiced juices. The table was a desecrated mess with chunks of food sowed in the grimy wood. A dozen, twelve people, Leo counted. All bathed but now filthy with food.
Leo took one of the empty seats and Helgos took another. Five guards with swords sheathed but arms ready guarded around, their eyes prying to every small movement which could indicate danger to their master.
"Not eating?" Helgos asked him.
Leo shook his head, staring at the juicy lamb leg. Hunger choked his stomach and his stomach choked his throat in return. His throat clenched his tongue into a watering and the thing was dripping in his mouth. But appetite fled him like a debt-buried merchant running from loan sharks, it settled into something halfway between hunger and disgust. He tried a pinch of the lamb and chomped the piece the size of a finger joint. His mouth watered for some more but he seemed to not have the energy for eating. Every chew was a burden, every swallow was torment. His back soon dropped on the seat's backrest.
"Ah that does happen." Helgos said. "But you should eat. The masses don't look kindly on skinny fighters." He grabbed a chalice and clinked it with a spoon. It took at least a dozen loud clinks before he gathered all the ears.
"Now that you have filled your bellies and washed your stinks, let us discuss business boys." Silence.
"Ah now I have your attention. Yes, business. I've been saying that I'll make you rich and I will. Let us be rich together. There have been many fighters I manage who rose in wealth and this year's batch looks promising."
A skinny thing on the other side of the table shyly raised his hand. Helgos pointed at him. "Yes?"
"Are we to gain our freedom?"
"Oh more than that. Freedom and wealth and status. You can even become a guard for the chief himself. Getting the brand on your necks wouldn't be problem if you have gold. There is a saying around here, 'Fighters are the crowd's whores'. A man doesn't pay for a whore's love and affection. Coitus with a whore is all a mask. Both parties know it and the same can be said about you and the crowd. All these titles you have, the exaggerated backstories." He snorted. "They know that all of you are pitiful slaves. It's all a mask, entertainment. They know it, you know it, the chief knows it, it is a damn secret exposed bare. But you have to pleasure them with your moves. Because at the end of the day, the best whores have the fullest pockets."
Several nods followed. Helgos continued.
"Tomorrow three of you have scheduled fights, Giant, Hunter," He looked at Leo. "And Castonian. Single matches, not deathmatches. Not if you anger the crowd anyway. All you boys have good forms and have a flair for the crowd. Especially the Castonian. I expect a good show. Rest for now but in the afternoon you three will have your practice."
They dumped into rooms after the meal. Two, people in each of the tiny yet clean room. A single double bed was on one side, rickety, old, small, rusty- but better than sand and stones. The table was large though, hardwood with a vase of rose at the middle. There were books on the small shelf mixed with clean clothes. The bed, table and shelf was lost to Leo, his eyes darted only to the window curtained with blue.
He stepped to it, wind ruffling his golden hair. He peeked. His vision was stunted by the large but thin walls of the building.
"Close that thing." His roommate said, voice grinding on his throat. Leo turned to the man. He was as tall as Leo but uglier. Hunter was the man's name, he heard. Crooked yellow teeth and a permanent sneer on his features, he didn't look friendly. Hunter trudged and pushed the panes close.
"I'll be taking the bottom bed. Don't move too much or I'll slit your throat." Hunter lay on the bed, tanned arms as pillow. Leo just leaned on the table.
"You're not resting?" Hunter clicked his tongue sharp.
Leo shook his head. "What's the point anyway? To kill? To be made an entertainment?"
"Both. You heard what that flimsy man said, we got to entertain the crowd. Dance for them."
Leo scoffed and went to the window. He pulled it open and leaned his arms on it.
"I don't like the wind. Close it."
"What's the point of what you like or do not like? If you are willing to become entertainment then you can survive the wind."
"That's different. We submit because it's the only way to survive. Close the window Castonian."
Leo was just silent. It was peaceful below, the training ground was empty save for the weapon racks. Nobody in their right mind would practice in midday anyway.
"Are you dumb?" Hunter bellowed. "I'll slit your throat if you don't close that."
"Do it." Leo sighed, melting even lower on his lean. "Slit my throat. Stab my belly. Bash my head. Or throw me down. What's the point anyway? I'm going to die either way."
Strong arms pushed him to the wall. Hunter's grip was tight on his neck. "Or I could choke you until your pale to death."
"Or that. You are welcome to do it. As what I said, I am a dead man no matter what. I was bitten by a bamboo viper so there's that. Chief Regrat wants me dead, so yes I am doomed. He is merely enjoying my suffering and he'll have me killed after he's bored."
"Why would Regrat want you dead?"
"Because I am Leo, Prince Leo the heir of the Union. It petty revenge for the threats my father and my mother sent him. I am..."
Hunter chuckled, grip losing on Leo's neck. "You think you are Prince Leo? You are broken in the head Castonian. Broken."
Leo smiled. "Maybe. But I'm not giving that up. I am indeed Prince Leo until my last breath."
"You're not giving it up?" Hunter reclined forward. His sharp breath stank. "Well to be honest with you Castonian, I've never been a fan of the Union. And I'll not be sharing a room with someone who claims to be the heir of that dammed place. So either you give it up or I'll punch it out of your head."
Hunter raised his fist. Leo nonchalantly looked at it. "Do it then. Like what I said, what's the point?"
The fist shook and Hunter's face grew dim. Those eyes struck Leo with a hateful glare. "I can't have you killed here, can I? They'll punish me." He let go of Leo's neck. "I'll beat you in the grounds. I'll beat that foolish notion out of you."
Hunter dragged Leo by the shirt to the training ground below. The sun brisked cruel, clouds absent. The wind disturbed the sand into a haze, filling his nose, choking his breath. Hunter arranged a bout with bamboo staves.
Prying slaves curiously went to see the bout, hiding under the roofs while two men stood in the middle of the training ground. The guards also watched and even the servants gave glances as they work.
Leo held his staff weakly. His head drooped as well as his shoulder. His stance was weak, flimsy. A guard waved his hand in a vague signal to begin.
Hunter charged at him, sidestepping like beast prowling for a meal, scattering sand with his sandals. The staff swept Leo's calf and the world came tumbling. Leo was on the ground, scorching sand on his back. The back of his head throbbed with the fall. His vision blurred and turned.
"Fight me." Hunter grunted, poking Leo with the staff as he circled. The hits were not strong but they still hurt. One hit landed on his mouth, drawing blood and tearing his lips.
"Do as you please." Leo said through cracked lips.
Hunter thrust the staff on Leo's chest. It winded him. Air fled his lungs. The pain was wincing. Leo gasped for dear air, breath raspy on his throat. He tilted, face on the ground and curled.
"You know why I hate the Union boy?" Hunter slammed the staff on his back, bringing Leo's body limp. "They left us. The Union, master of the land up north. But what about the south? King Timothy and Queen Lucia eh? Selfish bastards."
That rang on Leo's ear. For a moment, he forgot his agony.
"Selfish?"
"Yes." Another thwack on his back. "You are feasting up north, indulging in a golden age while we starve here in the south. You have comfortable lives and yet we here in the south were ruled by the likes of Regrat. I hear it is customary for citizens of your capital to throw coins at the feet of the royal family" He snorted. "See? You left Dandaria to rot, its people divided and broken while you northerners throw money? Your monarchs only care for the select few."
"Lies!" For the first time in a while Leo heard his shout. He forced it loud through his bloody lips. "My father sent envoys to the south and my mother is doing her best for this land."
"And when was the last time you tried to help? Where are your ships and where are your legions?"
Leo had no answer to that. Though he find it distasteful to admit, his mother had somehow given up in forging further relations with the small nations in Dandaria. And his father didn't like risking the legions in an expedition.
"We were busy defending the realm."
"Reasons" Hunter slammed the bamboo again but it didn't hurt this time. He frowned deep. "Ah you are angry. But my words are true. I piss on the Union. And I hate that you claim to be Prince Leo. Because if you are him, then the Union is all the more pathetic. The Prince acting like some cowardly wimp just waiting to die? You are giving up just like how King Timothy and the Queen gave up on us. Pathetic. Prince Leo and he can't even beat the likes of Regrat? Prince Leo and he cowers under the force of a fat man? Pathetic. Just like the King. Just like the Queen. Pathetic."
"Take that back." Leo pronounced every word with weight.
"I will not take back what is true. Your mother is whore and your father is a coward."
Something snapped on Leo's mind, something deep and warm.
"Kill him" A voice said, like his own but inside his head. It echoed and spoke with such gentleness though the words were sinister. "Kill the bastard. He insulted them. Break his skull. Destroy him."
Warmness engulfed Leo's being, like heated milk dripping on his chest. It was strong, brisking like the sun above. His aches were gone, replaced with a force too powerful to bear.
He rose.
"Kill him" The voice whispered.
He grabbed his staff.
"Break him"
He sprinted to Hunter, legs stretched in a full sprint.
"Ah yes. Blood. Destruction. Death." The voice was faint yet he understood.
Hunter tried parrying his strike but Leo swatted his staff. Leo ducked, avoiding Hunter's blow. He sidestepped, butt of Hunter's staff wheezing past his face. Leo swooped from above. His staff pommeled Hunter's scalp, bringing the man to a kneel. He swung his knee. The bone smashed Hunter's face bloody.
Leo stood above Hunter, staff in hand prepared for a strike.
"Kill him. He insulted you. He must pay." The voice urged.
He stabbed his staff, the blunt end going for Hunter's neck. It would puncture, it would kill. Another murder, another life erased. He must kill for it was his purpose.
The staff stopped, end touching Hunter's neck. Leo's hand trembled. His breaths were warm. His sweats were cold.
What was that? He asked himself. The voice was vivid. What was that?
It was powerful, loud. It was more real than the gasps of the audience.
Leo eased his stance, pulling the staff. His hands still trembled but he concealed it well enough. Hunter's eyes were wide.
Droplets tapped on his skin. Leo looked up, the sky was a gloom, dark beyond dark. Thunders rang and the wind battered. It was a mystery how a storm could fog a brisking sun in just the short duration of the bout.
"I won." He said to Hunter and dropped his staff. He walked away, rain dripping on his hair.