I wake up to the sound of a horn, like I have been for the past two weeks. I get up and immediately start packing up the tent with the other three that are with me. We work efficiently and in silence. It doesn’t take us long before everything is packed and back in a wagon with us marching on the road. It’s been like this everyday now.

We march for about four hours when a break is called. I look at the others as we bring out pans, pots and everything else to make us some grub. We prepare it ourselves. I look around and see about two hundred slaves like me with a black collar on their neck. There are a few imperial officers that oversee everything and make sure we know what to do, but at this point they don’t need to do much.

What is striking is the silence of voices. No one speaks in the camp, we aren’t allowed to speak unless spoken to by our masters. So only the sound of our shuffling feet and iron pots being transported are heard. I’m getting used to it. We are slowly developing our own sign language but it’s still very crude. We can’t really convey complex messages, but it’s only a matter of time now.

I look out across the camp as the designated cook starts working and we can finally rest. It’s one of the rare moments when we get to truly rest and do nothing. I look out and see mountains far away, the barrier to a much colder land beyond. The dirt road we follow isn’t used that much and we do not cross many people. Those we do cross all stay out of our way.

I close my eyes for a moment and try to remember my youth in the tribal mountains, but everyday it feels like it slips away just a bit more. Was it this clouded the last time I remembered it? Or is it becoming worse, again? It’s hard to tell and the few memories I still have are fleeting at best, but something I’ll never forget is the feeling. A feeling of freedom I yearn for despite knowing it will never come again.

I am a slave now and forever I fear. The only difference now is that I’m properly fed and trained in combat, but they remind us of what we are. If not with words, with their actions. It is clear to me and everyone else here what they truly think of us. We are nothing to them, just another tool to use, like a pickaxe made to extract the metal from the mountain. And if the pickaxe breaks? It’s cheaper to replace it than to repair it.

In the beginning, I was the first one to think that maybe things would change. A belly full, no more undeserved beatings simply to make us suffer. I had almost foolishly thought that I might have a purpose now. But in the end, it slowly became clear what we are. Just another tool to use and discard. Only we are a different tool than the one we used to be.

I look at Rannulf cooking and see a lot of similar setups all around me. They have separated us into units of four people. I’ve been grouped with three other half-wolves, and most other squads are also grouped if possible by their heritage as half-beasts. We have the curse and privilege of being squad 1. Not only were we part of the first groups they recruited, we have also shown that we are the strongest.

I am afraid of what they will make us do in the future. And it is why I thank the cruel gods above when I noticed that we aren’t going towards the few beast-kin villages that resist the Empire. No, we are going towards the northern part that is close to the Kingdom of Azael. Why? It seems we are still to recruit more slaves. We were only fifty when we started and now more than two hundred. So it seems reasonable if we aren’t going to the east that the only thing here is another slave camp somewhere.

The food is soon done and Garr hands me a bowl of food. I eat it mechanically. There is no taste for me. I see Rannulf enjoying his food, and I know it is not because the food has no taste. It doesn’t take us long before we are back on the road. I follow orders without thinking about it. Only my mind is free but I fear that I will one day lose that too somehow.

We see a mine in the distance with watchtowers and wooden palisades with gates. It seems we have reached our destination. It is still rather far away but it doesn’t take long for us to all notice that something is strange. I notice an overseer with a telescope that looks rather confused and I know I’m not the only one who saw his reaction. We slowly get closer as we march. The watchtowers are empty.

We come at a stop a small distance from the gates, but no one seems to be there to open them. As we stop I notice something else. There are no sounds coming from inside. No whips cracking the skin of slaves, no tired and desperate hands holding pickaxes, no slavemaster yelling and insulting them.

“Squad one, open the gate.” An overseer orders us and I take the lead. The other three follow behind me and we approach cautiously. Nothing happens in the deafening silence and I dare to try and push open the gates. They creak in a loud resounding cry, desperate to fill the silence. I look inside and am greeted by horror. Horror and joy.

“So? What happened?” The same overseer asks.

“Everyone is dead, sir.” I respond and my disbelief is clear for all to hear.

“That’s impossible.” The man shakes his head.

“Open the gates fully, let us investigate.” He adds and we silently comply. The few humans in our midst gasp as the undeniable reality is shown to them.

Dried blood is everywhere. Bodies of both humans and half-beasts litter the ground. There are more half-beasts by far as they clearly were under equipped and weaker. But the ugly truth is there for all to see. I turn to look at it to hide my smile. If they see it, I know I will be punished. Without turning my head, I spot the other members of my squad doing the same out of the corner of my eyes.

This may not be our victory, but it is one nonetheless. They did it. How they managed is beyond me, but they did it. The overseers do not let us stand around for long. They order us to investigate what happened here, like we have any idea what to look for. We have all been in these sorts of slave camps before we were taken out to become a killing tool for the Empire, and I think we all wonder how this could have even happened. The slaves are maintained weak and malnourished for this very reason, and the only uprising I have ever seen was crushed before it even had a chance to become something more.

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We look around the inside of the mines only to see more of the same. Which now that I think about it seems rather strange. How did they know when to attack with all of the others? It looks like the whole camp took up arms at roughly the same time. Strange. As me and my squad goes deeper in the mine, Garr sniffs the air and stops, signaling us to stop too. We stand stock still and I sniff the air. I only smell the familiar smell of iron in the air from all the blood.

Garr turns to a smaller tunnel and we follow him. It becomes too small for us and I let Garr crawl to see what is at the end of that hole. We wait for a bit as I look around at the massacre that took place here. A worker clearly surprised his overseer with a pickaxe here. The trail of blood and body tells a story I would have loved to see. A hit right up into the man’s skull from underneath. From the frozen expression on his face, he clearly didn’t see it coming.

Garr finally comes out and I ask him with a few signs if he found anything. He doesn’t respond but as he stands back up I notice movement behind him. It doesn’t take long for us to see a small half-beast kid crawl out of the hole. He looks at us with fear and hope, but I discreetly show him our collars. I’m tempted to tell him to hide, or make him understand somehow, but the thought is enough for my collar to act up. It’s too late now.

“A-A-Are y-you h-here to s-save m-me?” The kid asks and it breaks my heart as I shake my head sadly. I gently push the kid in front of me and we start walking with him. We soon come outside and one of the overseers spots us and points at the kid. The other humans controlling us soon come over as well, looking at the kid.

“What happened here?” One of them asks the kid and I have to admit I am as curious as they are. We all are. The kid’s face transforms into one of fear and the humans take a second to understand he is not going to speak.

“Do we have to whip you, boy?” One of them asks sternly and it looks like the memory of the whip is enough as it jolts the boy back to the present.

“It’s all his fault.” The kid begins.

“Who’s fault?” Someone asks.

“A terrifying man.” The boy says as he trembles from head to toe at the memory.

“Are you saying one person killed everyone?” Another one scoffs.

“He didn’t need to, sir. He… he simply shared his anger with us. He was so angry. So very angry.” The boy says with an almost vacant expression. One of the overseers claps his hands and the boy jolted again.

“Focus boy. What did this man look like?” He asks.

“Red.” Is all that he says.

“So much red.” The boy clasps at his head, overwhelmed by the mere memory and I shudder at the sight.

“Red what? Eyes?” Someone asks with a bit of trepidation.

“You can’t seriously thin–” Another one tries to say but gets interrupted.

“Silence. Let the boy speak.” The chief officer speaks up for the first time.

“Yes, his eyes, but also his emotions. He looked normal at first. Black long unkept hair and beard. He looked normal.” The boy is clearly shaken and I see that the humans seem to know who this can be. I shoot a look at my squad who all discreetly tell me they have no idea of what or who it could be.

“Didn’t they send a mithril rank to take care of him?” Another oversees chimes in. The others seem to want to join the conversation, but the officer silences them all with a gesture and they all shut up instantly.

“Let us move out and make camp for the night.” He says and I can’t help but think of who this could be. I don’t have access to any news, except what the humans let slip when they talk. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Sadly, nothing comes to mind. Plus, who would even be out here? There is nothing around for miles.

We make our way out with everyone else and soon make camp for the night. The sky is dark blue as the last light of the day can be seen on the horizon. Our tent is soon up and we set out our ‘beds’. It’s barely better than the ground, but I am used to it. As I set out my own very small bedroll I notice I have to pee. I tell the others with a sign and head out of our tent. I make my way to the designated latrines. On my way back, I overhear voices from the command tent and I slow down.

“-for you to know.” A strangely distorted voice says.

“With all due respect, sir, shouldn’t we know what we are dealing with?” A more familiar voice objects.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” The other voice shoots back.

“No sir.”

“Good, now I know you won’t have enough slaves with this camp empty, so I’m looking into where you could go. It is, as you may know, a logistical nightmare. Stay where you are until further notice, understood?” The voice tells them. I can’t help but like that they get talked down to for once.

I walk the rest of the way as I look at the rather large camp. There are enough fires and tents to make sure everyone knows we are here. I usually feel safe in the heart of the camp, as safe as I can feel as a slave, but tonight, a shiver runs down my spine and I hurry back to my tent. I lay down with my friends and close my eyes. Another day awaits tomorrow and I idly wonder if my life will ever get any better.

—

I wake up to the sound of screams and I jolt upright as I look around. I see the other three waking up and rushing out of the tent to see what is going on outside. The night is dark and only the dancing fires illuminate things now. But I notice a fire larger than all the others, smack in the middle of the camp.

The officers tent is on fire, and in front of it stands a lone figure with black hair. I cannot see his face, or his eyes as he is currently facing the other way. But now I understand what that kid meant with red. It’s not something you can see, but more of a feeling he gives off. Of danger. A warning. A threat. Of blood.

I stand still at the sight, frozen for a moment. My collar squeezes my neck as I know I should charge this man for the safety of the humans. It is enough to bring me back to the present and I pick up my sword and make sure the others are with me. We weave through the tents as we make a beeline for the stranger.

The humans run out of their tents one by one, in a panic because of the fire, but as they spot him, they all stop, until they form a semi circle in front of him. I continue to pump my legs forwards unwillingly. Part of me just wants to stop and look at what will inevitably happen, but my collar squeezes at the mere thought, so I continue.

As we get closer, I finally see the man’s face. A grin that I can only qualify as evil is on his face as he looks the other humans in the eyes. His arm moves faster than I can see and a head rolls on the ground. The others panic and one of them runs towards us.

“Kill him!” He yells as he looks behind him. There I see the man looking straight at me, into his strange brown and red eyes. I hear a click and know that nothing will be the same after tonight as I feel at my neck.