Harmonia Calendar 715, Chelon 1 - Border City, Elandor
Night - Imperial Road
I sat curled in the corner, knees pulled tight to my chest. My back pressed against the wall. Every time the wheels hit a stone, I felt splinters stabbing into my skin.
My wrists still burned. The shackles were gone, but the memory of them stayed. My whole body ached, but what hurt most were my eyes. I'd cried until they dried up, until even blinking stung.
The visions hadn't stopped.
Even now, flashes tormented me. A boy. A girl. A name I couldn't place. And with each vision came pain. The headaches made rest impossible.
I tried to sleep. For hours, maybe days.
But sleep never came.
I opened my eyes again. The inside of the wagon hadn't changed. Still too small to stretch out. Still filled with the stench of rot and horse sweat.
The air was stale and thick, with no windows. Just old wood, and the gaps between the planks let faint light in.
My stomach twisted with every bump on the road. I leaned my head back and tried to breathe, but the foul air just made it worse.
The horse galloped in a steady rhythm.
Clack.
Clack.
It made me relax a bit.
Until—
Screech.
The wagon jolted to a sudden stop. My head slammed back, boards rattling behind my skull.
"Ah—"
I gasped, wood pieces cut into my palms as I caught myself.
The horses fell silent.
Clink.
Step.
Armor clinked, and steps drew closer.
Click.
The lock turned.
The door swung open, and the night air rushed in.
I shivered from the cold, but the fresh air made breathing easier.
Then came the voice.
"Out."
I tried to stand, but a hand seized my arm and yanked me out.
My boots slid across stone. My legs were too weak, and I stumbled. My knees buckled first, then the rest of me as I fell. My hands hit the floor, stopping my head from crashing against stone. I tried to rise, but they hauled me upright before I could.
Cold iron pressed against my skin as they forced my wrists together.
Clink.
The iron shackles snapped around my wrists.
One knight laughed. Not loud, just enough to be heard.
"Look at him now. Noble scum."
Another shoved me forward.
"If it were up to me, I'd slit your throat. Bastards like you don't deserve to breathe."
I staggered forward, but I didn't fall. I wouldn't fall again.
Not in front of them.
I kept walking. Slowly, one step at a time.
My breath came out white in the cold as the knights led me through the empty town.
The street was dark and narrow, the kind of place where people vanished. Shuttered windows, houses that looked like they could crumble at any moment. Rats darted between piles of trash. A dog barked once and disappeared into an alley.
Lightstones flickered on rusted poles, too dim to illuminate the dark. The moonlight shone over the town.
The knights walked beside me, holding my chains and pulling me forward. The chains sang with each step.
Clang.
Clang.
They marched me forward until we reached an old building.
We halted in front of it. A knight stepped toward the door while I looked at the house.
The building looked like it used to matter. It was bigger than the rest of the houses, its door was decorated with faded sigils above the entrance. The roof was made of dark wood, and the walls of stone bricks. Planks barricaded the windows, and a sign hung on the walls.
Written on it in dark red letters:
[Begin of End]
The knights pushed the door open.
Creak.
The hinges creaked.
A warm breeze brushed past me. It carried the smell of smoke and old ink.
The first knight entered, and we followed after.
Lightstones burned low, casting a dull yellow glow over everything.
The room wasn't big. Just a few steps wide, and most of it empty. The wooden ceiling shifted with the wind, bordering on collapse. The walls had empty spots where bricks were missing.
Two guards stood next to the door, and in the center stood a wide table, its surface scattered with papers. A man sat behind it. He wore a long coat, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and one gold tooth caught the glow as he puffed a cigar.
He set his pen down and looked up.
"Well...what brings honorable knights to my hall at this fine hour?"
The knight shoved me forward. He waved the smoke away from his face before he spoke in a flat tone.
"Orders of the Empire. Sell him fast and far."
The other knight placed a heavy purse on the table.
"We demand discretion. No logs. No archives."
The man in the coat picked up the purse and weighed it in his hand before nodding.
He leaned forward, a smile spreading across his face.
"That, we specialize in. Any…extra requests?"
"No."
The knight placed a small key on the table.
"For the shackles."
The man picked up the key, fidgeted with it between his fingers, and spoke in a smooth, even tone.
"Thank you for doing business with us. You're always welcome."
The knights ignored him and turned to leave. No farewell, not even a glance back.
Thud.
The door slammed shut behind them, sealing my fate.
I stood in front of the desk, the shackles cold against my skin.
The slaver set his cigar aside and reached for a pen.
"Name?"
I hesitated before answering, my voice small and weak.
"…Adonis."
His pen scratched across the paper.
"Good. We'll keep it. Age?"
"Twelve."
He smiled, his gold tooth catching the light.
"You'll fetch a fine price."
He finished writing, folded the paper, then pulled a small bell from his pocket and rang it.
Cling.
A moment passed.
Creak.
The back door opened slowly.
A woman in a plain grey robe stepped inside and walked toward Goldtooth.
He handed her the paper and the key.
"Health check. Branding. Single cell."
She unfolded the note, read it, then lifted her emotionless eyes to me.
She gave a single nod, grabbed my chains, and tugged me along.
"Follow me."
I followed her through the back door.
The corridor beyond was narrow, with doors lining both sides. At the far end, a staircase. She led me down.
We descended one floor. This corridor was longer, the pale-white lightstones casting a dim glow across the stone walls. Wooden doors stood here and there along the passage.
She opened the first door on the right and stepped inside. I followed.
The room was cold. A metal basin waited at the center. Faucets lined the stone wall, and opposite them stood a row of cabinets. A guard in the corner rose to his feet as we entered.
Click.
The door closed behind us.
The woman walked me to the basin, then turned. She took out the key and unlocked the shackles.
Clink.
She pulled the shackles free and tossed them aside.
Thud.
Her voice was flat.
"Clothes off."
I hesitated.
The guard shifted, a twitch of his hand toward his weapon enough to make me move.
I stripped.
The cold air bit at my skin, but it wasn't enough to dull the shame. I lowered my hands to cover myself, but the woman's and the guard's stares made me flinch. I looked down.
My clothes lay on the floor. The tunic, once blue, was smeared with dirt and torn to rags. My black pants and boots were worn.
They reminded me of the banquet. The trial. The betrayal.
My breath grew ragged, fingers trembling. Faces surfaced again.
Favian's pleased smile.
Anton's cold eyes.
Sele—
Splash.
Cold water slammed into me before I could brace myself. My body jerked, breath caught in my throat, and my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
The woman stepped closer, sponge and soap in hand.
"Don't move."
She scrubbed me with a rough sponge, scraping dirt and blood from my skin. The shame of being naked vanished with the pain. Her hands didn't care if it hurt.
She stepped back when she was done.
Splash.
Another bucket of ice-cold water hit me.
My vision went black for a moment before I steadied myself.
She returned, her hands checking every inch of me. Bones. Teeth. Joints. Like I was livestock.
Her voice was flat.
"Healthy enough."
She walked to the cabinets, pulled out clothes, and tossed me a pair of socks and pants. In her other hand, she carried a black shirt.
"Put them on and follow me."
I slipped the socks on, pulled the pants up, and tightened the ribbon so they wouldn't fall. At last, I shoved my feet back into my boots.
The guard shoved me forward.
"Hurry up, boy."
He followed me out. The woman was already waiting ahead by an open door.
She entered, and I soon after.
The heat hit first. It stung my skin.
Then came the bright orange light. A forge glowed at the center of the room, metal tools hanging from black-stained racks. Tables piled with gear surrounded us. In the corner stood a steel chair beside an anvil.
The air smelled of iron and burned meat.
The woman stood next to a smith by the fire. His face was hidden by a mask, a leather apron covering his chest. His thick arms were blackened with soot. He stopped his work and glanced at her.
She handed him the note.
"Sigil and name."
The smith skimmed the note, then tossed it into the fire. He gestured toward the chair before turning back to the forge.
"Hold him down."
The guard seized my arms and dragged me to the chair. He forced me down and bound my wrists and ankles with leather straps.
I tried to fight, to resist, but he was too strong.
The woman gave one last order before leaving.
"Bring him down when it's done."
He nodded.
My breath came fast. Too fast.
My hands trembled as I looked around desperately for an escape.
It didn't take long before the smith returned, iron rod glowing in his grip. The letters at the tip burned orange, heat shimmering in the air.
"No—"
I shook my head, panic rising.
"No, wait—!"
It didn't matter.
The metal pressed into my chest.
Hiss.
"Aghhhh!"
I screamed.
Pain tore through me. My back arched, legs kicked, but the leather straps held me down. My voice broke. I couldn't breathe. My eyes squeezed shut. It was too much.
At last, the iron lifted. A wet cloth pressed against the wound, but the pain stayed.
I opened my eyes slowly, chest still burning.
The smith was already back with another rod. This one carried a circular sigil, its glow even hotter. Heat brushed my face from meters away.
His voice came flat, uninterested.
"Left arm."
The guard loosened the strap and yanked my arm straight, twisting it until my forearm faced upward.
I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they might crack.
The brand came down.
Hiss.
"Aaagghh!"
The scream ripped out of me. Louder. Worse than before.
Tears blurred my sight. My body spasmed in agony.
The metal finally lifted. Another wet cloth pressed down.
The smith turned back to his forge, waving a hand.
"Done. Leave me alone now."
The guard unfastened the straps and hauled me up. My legs barely worked as he dragged me away.
Thud.
The door closed behind us.
He pulled me through the corridor, down the stairs.
My boots scraped across the cold stone. The deeper we went, the thicker the air became. The foul air of mold and rot choked my lungs. The lightstones grew sparse, illuminating only parts of the corridor.
Floor after floor. Stairs after stairs.
The world grew hazy. Pain fogged my sight, as I was on the verge of unconsciousness.
Muffled voices leaked from the cells we passed.
Minutes blurred until the guard stopped in front of one. He released me, and I fell.
My knees hit the stone, my hands catching me.
Keys rattled as he unlocked the door.
Click.
Creak.
He gripped me again and shoved me inside.
I landed hard on cold stone, straw scratching my cheek.
The door shut.
Thud.
The lock turned.
Click.
Step.
His footsteps faded into the distance.
Step.
And then…
Silence.
Just me.
And the pain.
And the smell of my own burned flesh.
And the cold.
And the dark.
I couldn't hold on any longer. My eyes closed, and I collapsed.