Twig knew she was going to die soon. She had known that for a while. How she had held on so long was completely beyond her, but she at least knew that her death had been assured the second she had ended up as a penal laborer. The Empire stated very publicly that it didn’t have a death penalty, but every citizen understood very clearly that being sent to work as a penal laborer was an extended death sentence which simply squeezed all of the usage out of you before you wasted away. The female penal laborers were sent to a variety of locations, but the mining camps were often considered the worst fate. A slow, painful death as your body is forced to be constantly exposed to magore which deteriorates your internal systems. She had been a penal laborer for 3 years and she was at the end. Her nosebleeds and constant stomach pains suggested that her systems were starting to shut down from the overflow of mana that passed through her system sometimes soon. She’d seen it happen with others, and the end was never too pretty. Going out with a big moment, like she was doing now, was enough for her to feel pride. Death was terrifying, but she could at least make it mean something in the time she had left.
Dying with glory would also be one way to get back at him.
The man who stole her name.
***
When the explosion rang out throughout the camp, Twig could feel a mood shift in the female bunks. It was a sense of renewed pride and belief that they could fight back. All of them had been there for a reason, some less justifiable than others, but what had been done to them over the time they had been there was not. The empire was plagued with many things, and hypocrisy was most certainly one of them. Their existence as nonpersons who were eventually destined to die made them easy targets for the lust of the guards at the camp, and they often had little they could do to retaliate lest they wish to die. The rage that had been brewing within the 20 women who worked at this camp was strong enough to rival the miners. They did not care about freedom, although not being at the camp was definitely something they desired. The penal laborers cared about revenge, about bringing justice to those who believed their actions would go unpunished.
They had been given, or rather had given themselves, a different mission from the miners. Some of them would join in on the dash to the armory, but most of them had made the decision to just kill as many guards as possible through any means. Most of that came through utilizing the many knives of the kitchen provided. Now without anything holding them back, the penal laborers jumped onto the guards and went all out, stabbing them and stealing their burners. Some of them even appeared to refuse to use the burners out of some moral principle. The guards were easier to take down due to the effects of magore poisoning, which Twig believed was a fitting fate. The men who abused the women who were slowly dying of magore poisoning getting a harsh dosage of it the night they were all killed was a bit of beautiful karma that she couldn’t help but indulge in. It was a night to die on. She would be sad leaving her girls behind, but that was fine. They could move on without her under the leadership of the two Corith kids. That was enough to give her peace, but she at least wanted to get a few of the bastards while she was still kicking.
Twig ran through the night holding a knife, her eyes singled on a guard who she was very familiar with- Ian. The bastard was a repeat offender on multiple of the girls and seemed to believe that he was completely above them. Watching him wobble from poisoning was already a satisfying sight, but having a knife in his body would make her much happier. As she got up close to him and finally let her blade enter his body, she realized something about Ian.
He looked like a younger version of him.
***
Twig’s husband was an Arlin noble and one of the members of the Emperor’s court. She had seen the face of the Emperor a few times. He was a beautiful young man, adorned with golden hair and powerful blue eyes. He held a strong presence in the room even with his young age. Whenever in his presence, it felt as though the sun were constantly beaming down upon him to set him apart from the crowd. The fourth emperor also had a unique trait- He was a descendant of Emperor Arlin, the first emperor. She respected him as a man and believed that what he was doing was good for the nation. At least, she used to.
Her husband had been in the court before the current emperor was in power, under the third emperor, who was to her an idiot. He was a man who had his morality mangled by those who surrounded him. Those who looked to survive in his court would often give him false news about his efforts or try to please him in unreasonable ways. His simple presence had allowed corruption to subsist across the empire, especially in Uril and Pluma. Her husband was one of those who attempted to appease the Emperor with all of his being in order to get the most out of him. It worked, and his domain would profit greatly under the reign of the third emperor.
But when the fourth came into power 10 years ago, her husband’s methods failed. The fourth emperor was a rather stoic man who refused to repeat the same mistakes of the man who came before him. Her husband’s domain still survived, but the inordinate wealth that he had squeezed out of the third emperor was no longer given to him. A sudden change in the status quo led to frustration which he would eventually take out on Twig. The two of them had married out of their family titles. Her family was still noble, but was below her husband. She had married up, gained his title to profit from it. It was less of a marriage of individuals and more of a transaction of vows. He was still a fine man, but that changed during the fourth emperor.
His frustration led to him searching for other vices which went beyond her. He was slowly descending and Twig was forced to helplessly watch while he refused all of her efforts to help him. Her resentment would build over time as she found the situation futile but was unable to leave lest she ruin her family’s reputation.
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When she first caught him in bed with another woman, Twig cried. It was not out of anger at his unfaithfulness, but realizing that he had fallen so low that he was willing to commit an act that could easily ruin his reputation simply because he didn’t have any connection to her. It was a sign that he had truly fallen to a point where she didn’t believe she could save him. It was a depressing fact, but it wasn’t something that she really believed she could change. So she waited and watched while he descended further into debauchery. It grew more and more as he continued to switch between women, all while taking out his many frustrations on Twig who he believed could not pleasure him anymore. It was a vicious and futile cycle which would eventually start to brew hatred within Twig. She could only take so much, and when she saw one of the girls walk out of his room with bruises and cuts that mirrored some of her own, she snapped.
Twig could vividly remember what her husband’s face looked like after she had attacked him. It was bruised and malformed in many places, cut in several spots with a fireplace poker. His right cheek was completely missing, and his left eye was now barely usable. In truth, it barely looked like a face at all, but a mess of flesh and bone. His body was left in a similar state. She would have gone further if not for the house staff discovering the act and tearing her off. He didn’t die, but the scarring remained permanent. His high status had given him easy access to one of the rare healers the nobility kept as pets. His face would forever resemble a patchwork of skin, but it was at least a face. Twig would be punished for her crimes, even as she professed those of her husband. The court which she found herself in front of believed it was an act of delirium, spurred on by some imbalance of mana or natural insanity which had finally come to light.
The legal system of Arlin wanted to punish her, but it was apparently lenient on her family. Her husband had enough sway to effect their ruling to help protect her family members not on a personal level, but in their reputation. This was done by removing her from existence.
When she was declared a penal laborer, she was no longer a named human being. Her identity had been removed from as many registries as possible and those who knew her were incentivized to minimize discussion about her lest it ruin her family’s reputation. To protect her family, she was to act as a sacrifice. Her husband had not only given her a death sentence, but given her a fate that was considerably worse than normal death.
She had no name.
***
The name Twig was a nickname the soldiers gave her the first time she was sent to a camp. It was a statement about her thin body and generally gaunt demeanor. Her time in the prisons of Arlin had left her malnourished and had caused her to considerably shrink in size. Thus, she was called a Twig. She had tried to use her dead name, but it felt wrong. After all, it was the name that he called her. So she stuck with Twig, because it was a more fitting moniker. Now she was here, without a name, finally getting vengeance on those who kept her and so many others in bondage while using them as their personal toys. She was already used to being used by a man, but these people were nowhere near the same social status as her husband was. They were getting this power trip for the first time, and they would never get the same punishment or social disdain because the women they did it to were no longer “True Arlinians”. They were just penal laborers.
The look on Ian’s face when she had stabbed him was precious. It was a beautiful reminder of her past and the fact that even men like him could bleed and face justice for their sins. Hopefully he would get that in the future, but it wouldn’t be by her hands. No, it would be from the hands of people like Sera who were wronged by the Empire for their simple existence. That was enough for her. She slowly pulled out the knife as she wrenched the burner from Ian’s hands, grabbing it and using it on a nearby guard. The beam of mana that pierced through the man’s chest was a satisfying sight. She could only hold onto the burner without some form of grip for a short period, but it was long enough for her to get a good shot in. Her insides felt that familiar pain that she was already used to at this point. It didn’t matter now. She grabbed onto one of her sleeves and yanked it off with sheer force, using it as a wrap for the handle of the burner. She spotted another guard, who was close to one of her girls, starting to aim, but she pulled back the rod and let out a beam towards him, tearing a hole through his chest. She was surprised by how easy these things were to aim.
Twig wandered through the camp, watching the chaos unfold. She could see some of the slaves making their dash to the armory, which gave her a lot of hope. The best thing she could do was clear out some of the guards that were in their way. She took aim and fired one of them who was on the wooden towers which were interspersed throughout the camp, hitting his shoulder and burning through it. The guard spotted her, a look of desperation on his face. If he was going to say something, it’d probably be “Why”, which made her happy. He should know why.
Twig pulled back on the rod again and fired, hitting him in the chest and putting him down. She smiled, relaxing a bit.
No wonder the guards love these things. This is rather cathartic.
Twig would continue to fire at guard after guard, watching as they scrambled to manage themselves against her and the slaves. She even noticed that a few of her fellow penal laborers had followed in her example and were taking aim with burners stolen off of guards. As she got closer to the armory, she felt that burning sensation again in her chest, but a lot stronger now.
It took a moment to register that distinct blue light that mana beams gave off, but the sensation of it tearing through her body was something she could identify. She looked down to see that her chest had been torn through by a burner. It’d hit through her lung, and out the other side. It was towards her right, so it didn’t go through her heart. She didn’t feel much emotion about it.
Her job was done. She had killed the guards who had abused her girls. She knew that Sera would be safe and that she could watch as they would save others wronged by the empire.
Sera better take good care of that North kid.
It was a sad fact that, while she was loved and remembered by her fellow penal laborers, the only miner who would truly mourn for her would be Sera. That was ok. As long as someone who wasn’t destined to slowly fade away from mana poisoning remembered her, she could die happy. Twig wasn’t the name she wanted to die having, but as long as it stayed around, she was fine.
I just hope that this revolt causes panic in the royal court. I don’t want him to sleep quietly for a long while.