A man in dirty robes walks down a dingy hallway, forehead covered in sweat. His pace is quick, and a nervous expression could be seen on his face. He approached the two guards to either side of the large door at the end of the hall who were staring forward with a blank expression on their faces. The guards' eyes shift to the man as he approaches, and the guard on the left switches his spear to the hand holding the shield and silently opens the door for him. Once past the door, the guard closes the door, shifted his spear back to his main hand and resumes his position, staring down the hallway.
On the far side of the room and bright light fades and the man behind the altar lowers his hand and head at the same time in exhaustion. The two men didn't speak, because just inside the door was another man who was staring at them with barely veiled disgust. The other man by the door's face paled and he crossed the gigantic magical ritual construction that took up most of the space in the room to the other man who had just completed the summoning spell.
He helped the man to sit on the small stool that sat behind the altar and gave him some water to drink. The man was exhausted. Since the accident, the two had been worked hard day and night to appease the commander. As a result, they now needed to have the adjutant, Nigel, with them when they did a summoning so he could confirm the number summoned. They would split off to the quartermasters and then reunite with Nigel to get their numbers tattooed.
The numbers were off, so they classified the missing number, 548,590 as a deserter with orders to kill on sight. It had been almost two years since the incident, but their punishment still remained. The only reason their heads were still attached to their bodies was because Bryan and Tim were the only two capable of performing the ritual. There punishment was cleaning the castle. One would think this punishment is light, but there is no maid staff to assist with the task, and it had been several years since it had last been cleaned. The only real cleaning was done by the puppets in the areas that the royalty and nobility would actually go.
Their cleaning began in the dungeon of the castle, cleaning the cells they kept prisoners in. Then the many torture rooms. The grounds hadn't been maintained either, and it was now a daily task to cut the grasses and trim the hedges with scissors. When they finished each section to clean, it would be inspected by the commander, and if he wasn't satisfied, or it took too long for them to clean, he would add time to the already long sentence of 15 years. Currently their task had been changed to cleaning the unused stables.
The conquest of the other continents had slowed down considerably. The Holy State Grandia had originally conquered its own continent of Seeclind before moving on to the Aernide continent. The campaign had finished there and now they were just wiping up the resistance found on the small island continent of Dhuexlia. Sacrifices were now no longer as available as before. Casualties from the invasion had reduced, and there were no more prisoners left to use.
Therefore, the summoning had been reduced to once every six months again. A small amount of a delay due to punishment had thrown the cycle off and was no longer in line with the date of the incident.
As time passed, the ten platforms became illuminated with a bright light. The three men in the room covered their eyes with their hands. When the lights dimmed down, ten people stood on the platforms, each holding a crystal in their hands. There were seven men and three women.
Nigel spoke up after a moment, "I see ten. I'll expect ten to 'rive after they been issued gear from tha quar'ermasters." Nigel then turned and exited the door without saying anything further.
Tim said to Bryan, "Blimey Bryan, 'e creeps me out more than the Baron."
The Baron had a conversation with the commander as well. Included in his note to the commander, Nigel mentioned he overheard the two summoners saying that the Baron had his way with another puppet. The commander threatened to make the Baron a eunuch if he heard such a thing again. The Baron couldn't lash out at the commander, but he could against the summoners. Which he had done and had been extremely cruel to them. At first the commander allowed it, but once Tim lost two fingers in the winter to frostbite, he stepped in.
The Baron had been relieved of his duties and given some used puppets for entertainment, and another quartermaster had been assigned. That didn't stop the Baron from his cruelties, it only made him be cleverer in carrying them out. Everyone knew it was the Baron, but it was difficult to prove as he had never been caught.
Bryan said, "I'll take the women." With Tim only replying with a three fingered wave. "Men slaves, follow me." He said with a half-hearted voice. The door opened and Tim wearily passed through. Now that the summoning was over and the count was verified, he would only need to watch the seven men until the adjutant tattooed them. A lieutenant would then come by to pick the puppets up and Tim could go back to cleaning.
Bryan followed weakly behind Tim, wishing that he had some jerky to chew on, "Women, follow me." He said as he walked through the door. The doors closed as the last slave exited. The guards maintaining their posts as if nothing had happened.
The door to the adjutant's office opened and three armored women entered in a line. Nigel stood and walked to the first one, sitting her down on the chair. He took a stool near the chair and sat down on it. The needles he used were about as clean as they were going to be, but he didn't switch them between puppets. "Oi, yer name's now 548,601." The female slave nodded, and Nigel began tattooing on the back of the woman's left hand.
A few minutes after the first two slaves were finished, Tim entered the room with seven men. Nigel looked up and silently counted before saying, "I see ten. Go fetch the leftenant now." Tim nodded and turned around exiting the way he came.
After the eighth puppet received his tattoo, the door opened, and two men walked in. One was Tim, the other a man in shiny plate armor whose complexion and features were right out of a fairy tale. He was speaking to Tim as he arrived and didn't bother to acknowledge Nigel after arriving.
"I expect my armor to be cleaned by the morning. Meet me at the garrison at evening bell." The lieutenant said in a pretentious way.
Tim nodded and said, "Yes sir."
The lieutenant looked around at the puppets standing there and asked Nigel, "How many you got?"
Nigel looked up from the tattoo he was doing and said, "I see ten."
Nigel clicked his tongue in disappointment. He looked at the two summoners with unveiled disgust and said to Nigel, as he was finishing his nineth tattoo. "Calm yer bones leftenant. I'm on me last one now."
The lieutenant was miffed and said sharply, "Don't tell me what to do!"
Nigel turned to the lieutenant and stared him directly in the eyes until the lieutenant turned away. He clicked his tongue again and slapped the back of Tim's head, "Do something stupid!"
Tim flinched at the slap and said, "Yes sir." He turned and left the room with Bryan following.
As the two walked down the hallway, Tim looked back at the door to the room they just left. Bryan said, "He'll get what's coming to him one day."
Tim turned to Bryan as they continued down the hallway to their next chore, "I jus' wanna git out o' 'ere." He said, "I'm tired o' summonin' 'em. I'm tired o' the dead fish eyes."
Bryan shushed Tim quickly, "Shut it! If the commander or lieutenant hear you, they'll have your head!"
Tim looked back to the front and said, "Let 'em have it, I ain't usin' it no more."
In a hushed voice, Bryan said, "I don't want to be here either, but what choice do we have?"
Also in a hushed voice, Tim returned with, "Run. Most o' them are down in Dhuexlia. If we head to Aernide, ain't nobody there."
Bryan stopped in the hallway and looked around before pulling Tim in close, "Are you daft? How are we supposed to get there?"
"'itch a ride on a supply ship." Tim shrugged and added, "We leave 'ere an head to the coast. Git on a ship headin' fer Dhalmer an 'ide out in Wrand.
Bryan stared at Tim for a while, "We could leave St. Gloria behind?"
Tim nodded, "I've got a plan."