I awoke in a new cell, still wearing my puke-filled prisoner’s robes. How often did it make it where vomit had left my mouth in the last week? I felt weak in the knees, but I got up and found a freshwater bucket to clean my clothes. After I scrubbed them, I hung them up on hooks that protruded from the stone walls. The hooks were meant as anchoring points to chain prisoners, but they would work nicely as a drying rack. I found an identical set of robes at the end of the bed. So, I took the liberty of changing into a clean set of robes. Like the other set, they were long black robes with a patch with the number 471 across my heart. The androgynous nature of the outfit gave me a bit of euphoria, besides the fact that the bottom of the robe allowed me to twirl around in the outfit.
“I could get used to this,” I said to myself.
A few moments passed as I began to try and sinch my robes in a way that flattered my straight frame more. Well, I fixed the look. What lay in store for me now in this new prison? Suddenly a voice called out, “Bro, where are you from?”
The voice had come from across the hall through the bars of my cell. The prison’s cells were primarily dark, but a small amount of torchlight from the hallways pierced into the darkness. There was just enough light to make out the man who had called out to me. He had a tired expression about him, and he didn’t appear much older than me.
“It's is to you. I came from Hillcrest, you?” I replied, assuming the question was for me since no one else seemed to answer.
“Sorry about that. I am from the capital. I have been here for a few weeks,” the voice called out.
“How has it been so far?”
“Thankfully, the instructors are not as violent as the inquisitors. They are demonic affinity users, like us.”
“Any words of advice for the new kid?”
“It’s tough here, but they don’t want to strap our legs to a wooden pole and burn us alive. By the way, call me 468. Everyone here, including the instructors, goes by their numbers.” 468 gave me a half-hearted shrug as he explained our situation. 468 was a boy around my age with gentle eyes and a face only a mom could love.
“Oh, then I guess I am 471. Those inquisitors seemed to hate us. Any idea why they would be like that?” I asked.
“Yeah, we may have killed a few inquisitors. Including a few of our instructors. So, in return, the inquisitors hate and beat us.”
“How can they be instructors if they have killed their fellow countrymen?” I could hear the stupidity in my words as I said that. The way the inquisitors had treated me had been poor. I could not even imagine what they would have done if Tiger had not been there. She was all business, but her men seemed to get their rocks off on beating me.
“If you are a powerful weapon for the king, he couldn't care less if you kill all the inquisitors as long as you are worth more than the sum of the people you killed. Besides, among soldiers, inquisitors rank only above us. Since, more often than not, they are not combatants. They operate more than a ceremonious role and transport us to the battlefield.”
Something told me that 468’s explanation was only a half-truth. I had heard as much growing up. That inquisitors were, more often than not, failed soldiers. Or even criminals are serving a mandatory military service sentence from what I saw comparing the power of Thomas compared to my three captors. Thomas could have killed both Rhino and Maverick before squaring off with Tiger. Thomas was not the strongest person to come out of Hillcrest. But he was an up-and-coming town guard, and many people thought he would become the captain one day. Tiger seemed to carry herself like she had been wielding her sword since she was a child. Her presence was the primary deterrent on our journey, not to try anything too stupid.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said to 468. “I am gonna take the chance to catch a bit more sleep now that I am cleaned off.” 468 gave me a quick nod, and I made my way to a straw mattress in the corner. A few hours of sleep would give me just the kind of rest that I needed.
A voice halted my sweet dreams of times now lost to me. “4-7-1,” called the voice from outside of the cell. “Boy, you better get up. Otherwise, I will make it so you never stand again.” The voice had a deep growl to it. I thought 468 said the people in this fort were gentler than those of the inquisitors. It made me wonder what kind of inquisitors 468 had met in his short time here.
I did my best to get out of my bed. I was still tired from my journey, but it could not be helped. I stood and faced the man who had woken me. My back was still aching, like someone had stabbed a thousand needles all night. The little sleep I had gotten on the journey had been in chains in that small crate. The man in front of me was wearing a uniform similar to mine. His uniform did not fit quite right, and his enormous belly stuck out of the bottom. The uniform also had the number 82 patched onto it. The man smelt rotten as if he had spent his nights inside a trash pile.
“Good. Now go out to the main courtyard so we can see what you got,” 82 said.
As I began traversing the old fort, I saw 468 waiting for me near the exit of the cell block. “How did you sleep? It can be rough the first couple of nights, but I got used to it quickly,” 468 said.
“It was alright. I wish there were an actual pillow on that bed,” I replied.
468 gave me a laugh, and we headed out into the central courtyard. As the sun greeted us, I saw the gate where the inquisitors dropped me off the other day. The courtyard was primarily gravel, with a few grass patches between walkways. Now getting a better look at the area, there were only two main buildings. One was stable, and the other was the fort itself.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
There were about fifteen other people already hanging around the courtyard as 468 and I entered. Most people were hanging around a different entrance to the fort, chatting and enjoying breakfast. Strangely no one was near the gate or walls of the fort. The fort was unguarded inside the walls, except for a few demonic affinity users who seemed to be acting as guards more than actual guards. Two inquisitors were posted about 10’ outside of the gate I had entered from. Then it dawned on me that the fort had a holy barrier erected to keep out and in Demonic users.
“Alright, boy, now show us what you got,” called 82 from behind me. “That way, your time here can be of use. After all, you are here to be smithed into a weapon for his highness.” 82 gave a hardy snort after saying the last part.
I reached into my pockets and found the golem. I then willed it to move around the courtyard. It jumped out of my hand and onto the ground below. I had the golem first march about ten feet toward 82. Then I commanded the golem to pick up a larger piece of gravel and throw it toward the man. It fell harmlessly only three feet away from the golem.
“Necromancy,” 82 beamed.
“No,” I retorted, “I created the golem without using the life of another. It was formed using a plant-based ritual component.”
“I already know what you are going to do for us here. Do you think you could make that golem of yours bigger?” 82 said with a smile growing on his cheeks.
“Yeah, I only need some time and components to do it.”
“And you will get them. Your little golem will make for good cannon fodder for our trainees.”
82 had sent the components to be lined up for what I would need. A few of the older demonic affinity users directed me to an open space in the courtyard to set up a workstation. They had chosen an unclaimed grassy patch near one of the outer walls. The sensation of being near the wall did make me a bit queasy, but the sensation passed. With my components organized in front of me, I could increase my golem's size and strength. They had brought all the components I could need. It was a mixture of large stones, roses, blue clay, and assorted quartz crystals with different affinities.
468 acted as a helper for me since he had said he had nothing better to do. He also explained that he possessed the hell affinity, a combination of fire and demonic affinities. If I wanted to build another kiln, his powers would come in handy. Although I found out he did not have the same type of control of fire as a pure fire affinity user. 468 could still be able to get the heat I would need.
“So where are we going to start with that mess of components?” 468 asked.
“Well, the first thing to do is to make my little golem over there large enough to be dangerous,” I said. I immediately gravitated to the large stones that lay about in a pile. I turned to 468 and asked, “you wouldn’t have something sharp, would you?”
“I could grab a training knife. Going to do some kind of blood ritual?” he asked. I gave 468 a quick nod in agreement. Then 468 was back with a bone-handled knife in a few moments, and he handed it over. I grabbed the knife from him, cut open one of my fingers and began tracing a ritual circle over each stone. When I felt satisfied with the number of stones I chose, I repeated that action on the golem. Then I imagined the stones reshaping into the body and armor of the golem. With the image completed, I performed the ritual on the golem. The golem rose from the spot I had placed him on the ground. He became a human-sized creature, dawned in stone armor. I took a step back and fell from a sudden dizzy spell.
“That was reckless of you,” 468 said. “You should not have used that much power at once. Especially when you are not used to exercising it.”
I had almost forgotten that there was an upper limit of what people could and couldn’t do with their powers. It had only been a dizzy spell this time, but it could be worse next time. It could mean death if I had used up all of my powers like that amid a battle.
“Sorry, you are right. Next time, I will be more careful. But just in case, next time, be a gentleman and place a chair behind me,” I said to 468. He gave me a quick jab with an elbow. We both took a few steps back to admire the golem.
“So, who will you have it spar against first?” 468 questioned.
An enormous figure stepped out from the shadows as if to answer his question. It was as if he materialized from the very depths of an unknown shadow plane. I thought to myself that he must have the darkness’ affinity. He would need to have an attribute like mine to shape the shadows. “I would like to be the golem’s first opponent,” the man said. “No one else here seems to want to spar with me.” He gestured back to where two men lay on the ground holding different parts of their bodies. He may have done more to them than just usual sparring. One man’s forearm looked to be pointed in the wrong direction.
“Alright big man,” I replied, “Try not to crush the golem's core. It will be harder for me to rebuild it without the initial ritual component intact.” The large man nodded and fought in front of the golem and me. “Attack!” I screamed, commanding the golem to move. “Oh, I forgot to mention that I am uncertain how to hold back the golem’s full power,” I said, giving the man a grin.
The large man smiled as the golem lunged forward with all the grace of a turtle on its back. It went to slam into the man and hit nothing. The man had made his body into celestial darkness. “I don’t think your golem’s attacks will reach me,” he remarked as he pulled out a mallet and began bashing the golem.
Even though each attack had enough force to kill, it did little more than chip away at the golem’s exterior. As the large man continued to chip away, I used my abilities. I called upon the shards of rock and other debris as the base to restore the golem.
After a while of this, the man gave out a sigh. “Ah, I have had enough for now. It was as I thought. The Golem has no finishing blow. I would give this golem a stronger attack. Or a better option would be to leave it alone and start over with a more attack-orientated golem. After all, our only purpose from now to the day we die is to be weapons in another man’s war.”
“What about you?” I asked, “You said so much yourself that you lack the force to deliver a decisive blow.” Then the man disappeared from my view. It looked like he had disappeared into a gray cloud. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I may not have a powerful attack. Yet, as you now know, my use derives from much more than petty violence,” said the impersonal voice of the large man. “My number is 18, by the way, as in the 18th most useful weapon. I doubt 82 explained any of the rankings to you. I still don’t understand why they put that man in charge of training new weapons. Right now, you are the highest number of all weapons. Make sure that it does not stay that way. You only have until the end of the month to prove your worth, or you will be let out to do so.” 18 gave me a nod and disappeared into nothingness.