“Hello, Fa. Completed your journey once again, I see. Unfortunate but what can we do? We have orders to take you into a nice cold cell. Be thankful we aren’t leaving you for the – wait, are you bleeding?”
Bleeding? I haven’t really thought about it – how strangely caring this guard is. The other guards quickly spin around and look at me with horror as I reveal a cut on my arm. What can I say? No matter how careful one is, dealing with hundreds of dreg weapons will end with a cut.
“Why? It is only a scratch and I have learned something revolutionary on the road! Something that could change the very fabric of our reality-”
The guards sprint in my direction, quickly pushing a cloth against my small cut.
“Fa Fumerunner, you are a walking death sentence like this. Quickly! Lets get him out of here.”
I am picked off my feet by a group of guards and marched with a brutal efficiency through a magnificent field of blood red silver tipped ivy. The plants are just so gorgeous here – there is a guard at the front with a blade, hacking and slashing the ivy to ribbons. It is thick and impossible to pass through normally. With each cut, a thick dark red vicious liquid splatters from the ivy as it recoils. It responds. It is not just alive, but it feels. This place is unbelievable – and that is coming from me! There is no mercy from the guards through. From hacking to carefully carrying, I am brought into a massive steel walled building. Inside there is just metal. No dirt. No plants. Not even stone or wood. Nothing but metal reflecting the harsh sunlight.
“Wow, the sunburns here must be more deadly than I ever was!” not even a light chuckle – a very serious bunch these people are, huh? I am placed on the ground with a slight thud, circled with guards. A guard walks to the group of us and gives a salute. The guards salute back and walk off.
“Welcome, Fa Fumerunner. Welcome to the plane of pastures. Welcome to the Metal Box – our prison.” Two swords rest at this guards sides. They are dressed head to toe in metal – not a single piece of leather or fiber visible. Everything is plain and without a drop of dye.
“The metal box? Not the most creative name, I must say – although not wrong” I give the guard a smile. No smile is returned, “again, so serious. I know I’m a terrible killer and person and all that, but honestly, I no longer have my dreg weapon on me. I am reformed and harmless and besides, I –”
“Harmless, you say? Do you know how close we just came to ruin if it wasn’t for the fast thinking of my colleagues?”
“Ruin? I showed them a small cut and they treated it like the world was about to end”
The guard grabs me by the scruff of my neck and drags me close. This is the closest I have ever been to someone in memory… if I count out my time as Statue… oh how I miss those days… The guards eyes widen and I am let go and pushed away after a few seconds.
“You have lovely eyes, such a beautiful forest green, I must say.”
The guard just stares at me and collects themselves.
“Apologies, Fa Fumerunner-”
“You can call me Fa, I don’t mind.”
“Apologies, Fa Fumerunner. I should not have grabbed you there. Let me be brief – the law of this place is dictated by one saying; ‘Control nature or it will destroy you.’ Blood is a source of nutrients for plants, and here that means exponential plant growth. I don’t believe you can fathom exactly how bad that is. There was an accident and a farmer lost a hand. They bled. Around half a liter of blood hit the ground before anyone could stop it. There is now a forest so thick and powerful there that every farm and building nearby was completely destroyed. The weeds here are native and seek to destroy everything that is not. We are here to feed billions. We fight everyday for our food.”
“So, if I bleed too much, I could destroy this place?”
“Yes. The only reason we don’t have more protection at Langnet’s road is because a criminal found out about the blood before we could drag them here and stabbed themselves in the heart. Blood exploded from his body and the ivy took over.” The guard sighs “I don’t know why I am saying anything more then welcome and get to your cell.”
“Well, I am glad to be someone you can talk to and with if you would so like to do that.”
“I would not like to talk with you, Fa Fumerunner.”
“A shame, you talk so well!”
“Patronize me again and I’ll throw you into the ivy myself.”
“Sheesh, no one here has a sense of humor with all the battling nature all day everyday apparently.”
“We have a fine sense of humor, but not for a killer. Not for a murderer. Not for you.”
“Well that is fine. I actually, while we have a moment, would like to tell you something important.”
“Did something get damaged? This is the first time a horse has returned alive from a trip. Poor animal, needing to go travel with a monster like that. Honestly, I don’t know why you weren’t just killed.” The guard looks at me… mournfully. Strange. There is something familiar about them, but I can’t place it.
“I think I know! So when I was on the road, I came across the most incredible sight! You can see all the dreg weapons in my cart as proof – where is my cart?”
“Pushed into a cave and taken for review.”
“And Bliss is alive? Excellent.”
“Bliss?”
“The wonderful horse – anyway! I was on the road and –” the guard raises a hand, cutting me off. The group of guards have returned.
“I will be honest, Fa Fumerunner. I do not give a flying fuck what you say or think. I know this is all a ploy for something. All I don’t know is for what.”
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“No, I swear! Please, let me explain! You see, when I was on the road, I came across thousands of bodies. They were all of people who died in Langnet’s road and each had a dreg weapon. There must be fifty in my cart! Every person was in perfect shape. There was a massive tree there with holes in its roots. I could put someone in the hole and close it like a casket. Then the tree ate them, I think. A sun came out and melted the bodies. The dreg weapons and bodies dripped off the roads side and disappeared – I firmly believe that dreg is made by the bodies of dead criminals that are sent to the road. Furthermore, I believe that each piece of dreg is sentient. It has no eyes, mouth, or senses. All it has is a force of will. Perhaps that is why so many dreg weapons end up killing, even if that was not their original intention! Imagine; the money that dictates the world – it is actually dreg. It is actually sentient people. Evil people. People that want nothing good to happen in the world. That could be why dregs – why money is the reason so much evil occurs. Why people would trade millions of lives for a few hundred coins – why politicians would give up their morals for it! Society runs on the souls of serial killers!”
There is a silence. A moment passes. Then another.
“Are you done?” another guard breaks the silence
“I… what do you mean? Is that not revolutionary?”
“Fa… dude, you make a great story but why would anyone believe you? You are on death rows march. You are destined to die. Obviously that story is a ploy to stop us sending you back or what, you become a weapon or money and make more people die? So fucking stupid.” The other guards nod along and a few clap.
“You… no, this is real! How else would I have gotten dreg weapons? That is my proof – that is how I can tell you as a fact that this happened.”
A guard behind me clears their throat “Fa Fumerunner, we have inspected the cart. There is nothing but a black sludge that is covering the boxes. It is sticky and hard to remove. This will count as damages.”
“That is dreg!”
“Dreg does not melt. It only changes form. This is science. This is fact. Stop it, you are making yourself look stupid.”
“Just wait! It will harden and then it will just be dreg – the dreg you all know and use. Please, you have to believe me!” I can feel myself tearing up. I knew this would happen. I knew no one would believe me but what can I do?
“The only thing you have told us that is true is the fact that you are not holding your damned knife. We were told you never part from it and to be careful. We know it is hidden somewhere, waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Now get going. We do not have all day. To your cell.” A deep, commanding voice rolls through the group of guards. My arms are grabbed so I can’t draw Savra, who is not even on me anymore. I limply walk along, my body moving like a machine. Fuck. Metal cell doors are opened. I am thrown inside. The ground is hard. Once again, not a soul in the cell with me. Guards are positioned inside and out. A few guards watch my every move.
“Please, you have to give me a chance!” I can do nothing but plead. Some fucking chance this is. Slim, I thought. This is beyond that. In books its fine. In stories, the anti-hero has a chance for redemption. I deserve it but nothing. Not a single drop of aid. Only silence. My only hope is that people think about my words and realise there is truth to them. I speak the truth!
“You wont talk back? Fine. Let me tell you all something – I never lie. I have never lied. I told people where the bodies where. I told people my motivations. I told everything in the detail requested. I was honest. I have never lied. Please, give me a chance. Please. Please…” silence. Stares. Emotionless cold regards are the only response achieved. Again, nothing. Again, less then nothing. The last time I did this, I almost started a riot. I… fuck, if only I had a way out. If only I had Savra, I could cut through these bars with ease. I could get out of here. I could walk into the town square and scream the truth. Then, if I tell a million people the reality of our world, only a tiny percent would believe me – but that tiny percent would be more then enough. Again, the answer to my problem is not with me anymore. Savra is no longer with me. I need her. I need to connect with her. I need to use her. I need to show the world I am strong and my beliefs are true. Fuck it, war heroes are just serial killers with a badge. Heroes are just murderers for the right side. People talk about ‘oh fight me. If you beat me, Ill believe you’ like fighting is the response to every issue in life. So what, if I can fight – if I am strong, people will believe my true words? If only I was alive during a war, I would be held in high regards as a cunning strategist and warrior or something. Then this would be fine. Then people would look at me and think that what I say is a unmistakable truth. I am strong, but… what does this matter? I do not have Savra. Poor Savra, there is a chance she is alive but unable to communicate – trapped in a pitch black void of a prison. As far from humanity as one can go. A monster – the very definition of a monster. I must live so that does not happen – although perhaps that can only happen in Langnet’s road? Who even is Langnet? What is a road named after them? How was it made? It is not like you could just dig a hole out, and even if you could, wouldn’t it be called ‘Langnet’s Tunnel’ then? Why does my brain go a million miles an hour without even a moment to think. A moment to reflect. A moment to cross one task off the list before I write another thousand.
I pouch is thrown into my cell. I open it. A single dreg coin. The guards sneer at me. A single fucking dreg coin. I will never escape the collar. There is a piece of paper inside. Damage to the boxes. Major damage to the cart. A new horse – wait what? Bliss is alive, they said so! Attempt to escape!? I did no such thing! Cost of attempted murder? From the cut? A single dreg is left? That is not enough to buy food. That is not enough to get anything.
“Hey guard, this report is bullshit. The horse is alive. There is not major damage to the cart. I did not try to escape. I did not attempt to take anyones life.”
“I shall lodge your complaint, Fa Fumerunner.” A guard writes for a few seconds and then walks out the room, hands it to another guard without a word and walks back in. “It will take a few weeks to return as we are quite busy here, apologies.”
“You… I know that no such thing will happen. I will be gone after a week. You… Attempt to escape?!”
“Did you not try that with your drivel you called revolutionary?”
“I risk my life everyday to walk on that damned road, and by Wol’zarath that is your concusion? What do I have to risk? Why would I lie? You forgot, if I wanted to escape, I could do it. I have already done it.”
“You got out of a cage and were hunted down. You were put back into your cell after a few hours. The guards messed up for sure, but now look at you. Such a mistake won’t happen again.”
This guard. This fucking guard.
“So what are you doing to do, Fa Fumerunner? Run escape and be trapped in a metal box? Get into the forest and die from the plants? Keep preaching far fetched tales? If you didn’t become a killer, you should have been a writer. Your imagination is astounding – you really thought anyone would believe you.”
“IT IS THE TRUTH.” I can’t hold myself back anymore. The guard walks up to the cage.
“Raising your voice to a guard, huh? That will be a one dreg deduction.”
I pick up the dreg and throw it at him. Hard. It clangs against his armor.
“Attempted assault with dreg now? That will be an additional charge on your next trip. Keep it up, Fa, and together we can make sure you never see the light of day again.”
This guard. This guard. This guard – I want to… I sit down. I stare at him.
“Scary.”
I take a deep breath.
“What a coward you are. A guard that has to get their kicks from aggravating someone behind bars. You are too weak to do anything about it in person so this is all you are. A fool and a weakling. A bully who lacks the confidence to bully. A shit talker who barks with no teeth.”
The guard smirks.
“I know your type. I have killed your type. They always scream the best upon realizing they are truly weak. Upon realizing that their masculinity is but the façade of a powerless child.”
The guard walks up to the cage. I walk to him. He takes his helmet off. His face. I know him.
“You…”
“Yes Fa, I am the one who got away. The one who escaped your trap. I am one of the main reasons you are here.”
Pain. Agony. Cold. So cold. Something is in my stomach. A blade. A black blade.
Savra.