The air had turned cold and dry, and the heavy atmosphere was slowly lifting. Thoughts of drought and hunger no longer filled the minds of the people. On the mend, the city had been rebuilt, some would argue even better than before, and the signs of the battle that took place not long ago were nowhere to be seen.
The council that had ruled over the city for hundreds of years was dissolved, and a new form of military rule was enforced for the immediate future. Travel from the city had been banned, and the general mood of the city was not very optimistic.
But delivery of food and supplies filled their stomachs and changed their minds. Few could say they were worse off than they were before. Save the criminal scourge who were removed by the military, and those who lost loved ones most could say their lives had even improved.
Directing the people’s anger towards the incompetence of the council and the cruelty of the Northsmen, support for the Elkian army had continued to rise. Paid implants into the populace helped to spread positive propaganda, and many of the single or orphaned young men now joined the military willingly after they were promised a chance at revenge.
The invaders were welcomed as saviors, and the atrocities of the recent past were slowly being forgotten as the facts were being rewritten. Everything had gone as planned, and positive reports of the cities capture were sent to leaders who expected nothing other than good news.
Positive reports, less one detail. After reading the response from his less than excited father, Osbourne had to now prepare for his father’s arrival. Knowing eventually the information would spread, he decided it best to not hide the news of his brother’s passing at the hands of an unknown mage.
And as he thought, his father had blamed him. This loss was unforgivable. He had been charged with the safety of his younger brother, but a mage powerful enough to take on his brother and win was completely unforeseen. And the fact that he had not captured his brother’s killer enraged his father even more.
General Mason had to have come across evidence of his whereabouts, he was certain of it. But he continued to say there was no word of him. The only information he could get on his own was from the shadowwalker who believed the mage would have fled to the Alliance.
The Alliance, it was a place right now he was told not to go to. He was not to settle his vendetta at the expense of their plans, so all he could do was take out his frustration on the people around him. On the people, he held under his control.
The person within the dimly lit room was hardly recognizable as the young woman from just months before. The young woman he had taken under him. She had become his little project. A pet project he could let loose his frustrations on. He had not touched her intimately and made sure no one else had either, but he did not spare her the rod.
***
“Concentrate, can you be any more worthless? Must I explain it to you every time?”
For nearly two months she lived in darkness. She had not seen the light of day; she did not know the state of Freeport, and she had not even stepped outside of her isolation chamber once in the past two months. Her living conditions were filthy, like those of a farm animal, even Osbourne found the smell difficult to bear as he watched her move her body in practiced motions.
Whap!
The rod slammed down on the scarred skin of her back, leaving a thin trail of blood. She did not even flinch. Punishment of this level no longer affected her.
“I will have you perform this properly before you die. Do it again.”
The mana flowed from her core, through her arms, and condensed within her hands. The pressure built until the flesh began to tear at her fingertips, she struggled to hold it in. Her body trembled from the pain and she clenched her jaw so tightly her gums began to bleed.
Whap!
It had become too much for her to bear. Her arms fell to her sides, the mana dispersed back throughout her body and tears pooled in her eyes, but she made not a single sound.
“Do it again.”
Without any objections, she raised her arms once more and began focusing the mana within her body. Her once strawberry-blonde hair had been chopped short like a young boys and was so filthy it had turned a dark brown. Her sparkling green eyes had faded dull, sunken deep within their sockets, and her soft pink lips were now painfully cracked from the cold, dry, winter’s air.
The stunningly beautiful Lady Grace had lost all the charm of the young woman she once was. Dressed in rags and covered in filth, she looked more like a beggar in an alley than a lady of one of the most prosperous houses in Freeport. She was worn down and broken, like a doll that had been discarded by its owner.
Stolen story; please report.
Whap!
The rod came down once again as she failed to complete his instructions. Many of her days were spent like this, but she knew it would end soon. His haggard breathing had shown the abuse he dished out had more a physical toll on him than he could handle.
His poor physical shape and his overweight body prevented him from spending much time physically assaulting her. Perhaps most mages lacked a certain physical fitness or endurance required for most things. Instead, relying on their magic to perform the needed tasks of daily life. Of this she was unsure.
“You’re doing it wrong! Disgusting, just lay in your corner and think of your mistakes. We’re finished here today. Guards, there will be no food for her tonight.”
She walked to the pile of straw she now called a bed and laid down. She would not protest, she knew it would do no good. Instead, she just stared blankly at the cold wall in her cell. She would show no emotion; she knew he wanted her to suffer, not just physically, but emotionally. She had decided she would not allow him the pleasure of knowing of her suffering.
She was not always locked in this cell. After Lord Weston’s estate was occupied by Osbourne she was still allowed to walk anywhere within the walls of the estate. But when the training began, the areas in which she was allowed became smaller and smaller, and the light training became harsh until it no longer resembled training, but punishment and abuse instead. In her desperation, she attempted to take her life.
She tried hanging herself using rope she obtained from the gardener. But she was unable to tie a proper noose, the loop she tied did not tighten and instead tore the skin below her jaw when she slipped out. The attempt ended with her gaining a scar at the top of her neck and being confined to a cell under the orders of Osbourne, where she was put under constant surveillance.
Osbourne would not allow her to die. He would beat her if she protested, he would beat her if she failed, and he would beat her even when she followed his orders. Slowly, a shell formed over her exterior, the only way she could escape the mental and physical abuse she was forced to weather.
Osbourne had her perform many tests and had determined she held a minor affinity in air. But she had poor control of her mana and was barely able to manipulate it like a typical elementalist. It was difficult for her to sense it at all. However, he found she had talent in something even rarer, and more interesting.
She had the rare ability to bend light, it was an ability that if trained properly, would allow the caster to create illusions. It was an ability Osbourne was very interested in exploiting. Not an all-powerful magic, but if used properly it had many uses. Unfortunately, her control was severely lacking and complex illusions were something she could not manage.
This harsh training was intended to teach her control. To be able to move mana within her body freely without causing damage. She was unable to fight back, so for now, she would endure. She would endure until the time came that she could bend the light well enough to trick the guards.
She continued to stare blankly at the wall, Osbourne had left, and she waited until the door had been locked behind him before she released a small grin. It was a small grin of satisfaction that she was careful to hide. She had no choice; she would have to endure. She would endure until the time was right, and she was more certain than ever, that time was coming very soon.
***
Standing atop the western wall, General Mason looked down at the fleet of ships under his command. Everything had progressed according to plan with Freeport falling completely under Elkian rule despite small pockets of resistance in the beginning.
Progress had exceeded his expectations, and the general was in an excellent mood. Soon they would be moving out once again. He still had a few issues to handle, particularly with the mage Osbourne. He had received word that his father, a high-ranking general of their ally in the south, would be arriving shortly. But even that was not enough to bring down his good spirits.
“Colonel Dyer, what’s our status?”
“30,000 men sir and 500 ogres ready to move and meet with our armored riders and warbeasts stationed in the Bertsch Forest.”
The last major city located on the Crystal River, Penrith, would soon face the massive invasionary force of the Elkian military. Once the city fell, Elkia would control nearly the entirety of the river and much of the Anderan Plains with only small, relatively isolated cities remaining.
It was decided that soldiers of Freeport would not take place in the invasion due to the close ties between the two cities. Concerned the soldiers would be unwilling to fight an ally, they would stay and continue in the rebuilding of the city. When they had been trained properly, and up to Elkian standards, they would use their animosity from the attacks and direct it towards the Northern Expanse.
Penrith had already seen major losses, their strength had diminished greatly. Elkia would strike while Penrith was still reeling from their injuries and licking their wounds. It was a plan he had proposed and one the king had approved of.
“Good, let the men know; we leave tomorrow at first light. You’re dismissed.”
Ahead of schedule. They would not have been able to accomplish the full subjugation of Freeport without the help of the Northsmen. But they would be unable to use them and create a villain out of them this time. The people of Penrith were prosperous, they were loyal to their city, and without the aid of the ruling class, a prolonged fight was expected.
There would be many losses in this upcoming battle. And taking full control of the city would take much longer. The king’s response to the general was a deadline, a deadline of one year. In one year’s time, the general was to obtain complete control of the Anderan Plains.
The Northern Expanse would be dealt with after that. Additional ground troops would be sent after Penrith. In one year their army would spread through the plains, and their ships would control the Crystal River delta on the Misty Sea.
Their southern ally found a route, beginning in the spring construction would begin, and by next harvest, they would appear with the full might of their military and advanced weaponry. General Mason would march to the border wall of the Corinth Alliance, and the newly formed navy would sail to the coasts. The attack on the Alliance would begin.
Within two years of this day, it was expected that the entirety of the continent of Alcana would be united. The General could then retire a hero to his people. Perhaps he could finally settle down and start a family. Nothing could possibly bring down his mood, or so he thought.