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“Listen up, ya sorry sods,” the Overseer shouted, hands clasped behind his back in perfect military form. His monkey tail swished rhythmically in coordination with his swagger as he walked the length of a raised wooden podium.
A day had passed since Vir’s Guardian Ranking evaluations, and the prisoners from Vir’s batch had all been gathered at the center of Garrison Atnu, raising the spirits of all present. While the garrison’s walls may not offer any protection from the falling Ash, at least here, the chilling winds didn’t bother them as much. Here, for the time being, they were safe from the Ash Beasts.
“What have you learned?” Balagra whispered to Vir as they listened.
Vir didn’t answer, hesitant to share what he’d learned.
For an entire day, his batch had been left alone to their devices, so long as they didn’t attempt to mingle with the other camps. It was a limited luxury, though Vir was surprised they were granted even that much. It hadn’t sat well with either Vir or Balagra, so Vir had done some digging.
“Do you know what they have in store for us?” Balagra asked again.
Unfortunately, their batch mates were as clueless as everyone else, and it was only over the past hour, when they’d passed another group on their way in, that Vir learned of what was in store for them.
He’d been wracking his head, trying—and failing—to come up with a countermeasure ever since.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” Vir whispered back. “Our suspicions were right.”
“Figures,” Balagra grunted in resignation. There was only one reason why the Chits would segregate the camps. It wasn’t an uprising they were worried about—the collars were more than enough for quelling those—it was information exchange.
“Allow me to explain why you’re all here,” the Overseer said, casting his gaze across his audience as he paced. “While it normally takes us a little longer to determine your results, I have worked extra hard to deliver them to you as swiftly as possible. Today, you will learn your fate. Some of you will be rewarded handsomely!”
The prisoners looked around. Some hopeful, others suspicious.
“The others…”
The Overseer made a slicing motion across his throat. Whatever relief the prisoners had at being within the safe confines of the Garrison walls evaporated, leaving the area deathly silent.
“I must say, you’re the first batch in a while where anyone attained Steel. The ranks to be awarded today are those of Steel, Bronze, and Porcelain. Those failing to make even Porcelain, but who we believe are suited for manual labor and logistical tasks, shall be granted the privilege of living another day.”
The Overseer stopped his pacing and faced his audience.
“The Clan has little need for dregs and dead weight. Still, most of you have little to worry about. Those who put in a good showing have nothing to fear.” The Overseer locked eyes with Vir as he said that, and Vir thought he saw a vile grin flash by the Kothi’s face.
The knot in Vir’s stomach tightened, and he dreaded what was to come. This was not going to end well. Not for him. Not for anyone.
Rationally, there was nothing to fear. Vir had put in a solid showing. A better than solid showing, in fact. He was willing to bet good money that the Steel rank was his. With Cirayus’ intervention, the Overseer wouldn’t dare attempt to kill Vir, no matter how deep his grudge ran. Were he stupid enough to try, Vir could easily return the favor and escape on his own. His cover and his mission would be blown, but at least he’d get out alive.
Yet Vir knew, deep down, that he’d never take that option. Not if it meant sacrificing Balagra, Malik, and the Kothi prisoner he still hadn’t found. Not if it meant sacrificing the Gargan farmers, merchants, blacksmiths, and fathers who had no business being here. Whose only crime was being born to a disgraced clan.
The Overseer accepted a rolled scroll of parchment from an aide and cleared his throat. “In no particular order…” he announced in a voice that clearly showed he was enjoying this. “Barid! Porcelain. A weapon for you! Vimal! No rank. We’ll use you in the kitchens. Hunar! Bronze! Well done. A weapon and armor for you. You can retrieve them when we’re done.”
As the Overseer continued calling names, Vir’s anxiety slowly abated. After fifteen names, not one had received an execution, with most receiving Porcelain, and a handful earning Bronze. As for iron—the rank that sat in between bronze and steel—there were none.
“And finally, we have the shining stars of our little group,” the Overseer announced. Even now, not one among them had been slated for execution. “Balagra! Neel! Why don’t you two come on up here and join me?”
Vir looked around to find several demons just as confused as him. He exchanged glances with Balagra.
‘What’s going on?’
“That wasn’t a request. Up here. Now!” the Overseer barked, forcing Balagra and Vir to amble up onto the stage.
“Take a good look at these two. That’s right. You’re looking at the only Steel rankers in your group. In fact, they’re among only six prisoners who are at Garrison Atnu, and the others earned them through combat against Ash Beasts!”
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The crowd began whispering and murmuring to one another, no doubt just as confused as Vir and Balagra were.
“What does this mean?” the Overseer asked, grinning savagely. “It means that these two now own your sorry asses. From this day forth, they will be your leaders. You will do as they say, or you will be severely punished.”
Why? Vir wondered. Why would the Overseer be doing this?
Was this standard for new batches of prisoners? Or was he doing this owing to Vir and Balagra’s stellar performance?
“Why? You must be wondering,” the Overseer continued. “Why would you need leaders when we’ve yet to even begin your training? Of course, you’re wondering. I can see it in your sorry eyes. That confusion. That pathetic weakness. Well, not for long.”
The Overseer allowed his words to hang in the air, settling like a dark cloud upon the prisoners.
“Not for long! Out here, you either toughen up, or you die. And mark my words. When we’re through with you, you will either be tough… Or you will be dead. Your choice.”
Vir couldn’t bring himself to believe the Kothis would shell out resources training up prisoners, and by their chattering, the others felt similarly.
“Yes. Exciting, is it not? The chance to learn new skills! Perhaps even open your next chakra! Fear not. You’ll have ample opportunity on your first training assignment,” the Overseer said, seemingly savoring the nervous gazes of his audience. “You will journey to a nearby city to bring back as many weapons and armor as you can get your hands on. Your leaders will be none other than these two capable souls standing beside me.”
The kothi gestured to Vir and Balagra.
The prisoners looked relieved, and so was Vir. In fact, wasn’t this precisely what he’d wanted? By putting him in a position of authority, the Overseer had unwittingly vaulted Vir closer to his goal than he could ever have dreamed.
And if they actually let Vir lead… Well, he was confident he could rally them to his cause. Doing so under the Overseer’s thumb would be difficult, but that was a problem he could—
“Which city?” Balagra snarled, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Which city do you intend for us to raid?”
“This will be no raid,” the Overseer replied. “Merely a scavenging operation. And where else does one scavenge but Praya Parul?”
The crowd’s sense of relief vanished immediately.
“You can’t be serious,” Balagra hissed. “You would send untrained soldiers to that place?”
“Then I pray you give it your all, Naga,” the Overseer said softly. “If you don’t want their blood staining your hands.”
Praya Parul…
The name sounded familiar to Vir, though he couldn’t initially place why. Balagra’s words, however, stirred a memory of when Cirayus first told him of the demonic clans and their various capital cities, atop the Mahakurma’s back.
There were several reasons the Chitrans had grown desperate over the centuries, the foremost of which being their never-ending battle with the Ashen Realm. Their plight had struck Vir as similar to that of Matali’s—the slow, unceasing expansion of the Ashen Realm had slowly eroded their territory over centuries.
Yet, unlike Matali, the Chitran capital had the misfortune of existing in the western reaches of their clan.
Praya Parul wasn’t a city, but a graveyard. A city that existed half within the Ash, and half in the demon realm, right at the Boundary.
A city that roamed with Ash Beasts.
Vir closed his eyes and took a breath. This was a setback, yes. But nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d simply have to take extra precautions. With Balagra and Malik at his side, though, Vir was confident they’d pull through.
He looked over at his friend and gave him a nod.
We’ll get through this.
----------------------------------------
“You heard me,” the Overseer said, spreading his fists wide on his wooden table. “Either you allow half of them to die on this excursion. Or I will have the lot of you executed. Every. Last. One.”
Vir and Balagra stood within the Overseer’s room, having been called there immediately after the Overseer’s demonstration had ended.
The two stood stiff, not daring to meet the Overseer’s gaze. The first thing the kothi had done was to buzz their collars for half a minute, leaving them writhing on the ground. Balagra for real, Vir acting the part.
“I know your types. The heroes. The ones who sacrifice themselves for the good of others. An unnecessary attitude out here. Dangerous. But we can beat that out of you. The others?” The Overseer brought his snout to within inches of Balagra’s face, but to his chagrin, the naga did not falter. “We don’t need dead weight around here. We have neither the food nor the armament for anyone who brings down our capabilities.”
“And if we choose to overpower your guards and run off?” Balagra said.
The Overseer brought his face even closer to Balagra. So close that they almost touched.
“I have made you leaders, yes, but do not think for an instant that this gives you power in this place,” the Overseer muttered, pulling away and circling around them. “I will personally monitor every move you make on this outing, and I will be accompanied by enough guards to end your sorry cadre of prisoners on a moment’s notice, even without those collars. And make no mistake, your collars will be armed.”
Balagra chuckled softly.
“Something funny, naga?” the Overseer said.
“For a moment, I actually thought you’d be giving those poor fools a chance,” Balagra said, ensuring he kept his back ramrod straight. “This isn’t training. It’s a culling. Those who survive will earn the privilege of being used as meat shields against Ash Beasts, I imagine. Or, if they’re lucky, as scouts to probe for soft spots in enemy lines. Alone.”
The Overseer cocked a brow, and so did Vir.
“Astute,” the Kothi said. “As I suspected, you are military trained, are you not? I wonder what your background is…”
When Balagra kept his silence, the Overseer continued, seemingly unperturbed.
“No matter. As I said, I’ve seen your type before. You fashion yourselves as heroes and martyrs. Saving the downtrodden or dying gloriously in the process. You think death does not scare you. That you would gallantly sacrifice yourselves to save the rest.”
The Overseer stopped pacing, switching his gaze between the two as he spoke.
“Now, as much as I would love to torture you all day long, I'm afraid I lack the time for such things. Which is why I am giving you an ultimatum. Either you sacrifice half, or everyone, along with yourselves, die upon return. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Balagra seethed through gritted teeth, staring holes into a wall in the distance. Despite his calm facade, Vir knew his friend was raging underneath. He only hoped the naga could control himself, lest he trigger the Overseer’s wrath. That ended only one way—with the collar.
The Overseer turned to Vir, who was far more sullen.
“Was this the Ravager’s wish?” Vir asked, having surmised as much. His question earned a pointed look from Balagra, who regarded him with a tinge of suspicion. Vir was planning on giving him a plausible explanation eventually, so hiding his connection with Cirayus was pointless—or at least, hiding the connection he wanted the world to believe he had was pointless.
“Putting you in charge? Yes.”
“And the deaths?” Vir asked, mostly for Balagra’s sake.
“Mine,” the monkey man grinned. “Now, are we understood? Or do we need another round of collar?”
“We’re understood,” Vir muttered.
“Good. Now get out of my sight. And don’t forget to collect your weapons and armor on your way out. And your tent. One of the few perks of command. Do enjoy it… while it lasts.”