Sighing deeper than I think I ever had, I was instantly reminded of an old tale our founder had brought with him from Diamond.

There had been a particularly wicked bandit who was eventually drawn and quartered. He found himself in the bowels of hell, a demon beside him. Being somewhat obvious, the bandit didn’t bother asking the situation, instead opting for a more direct, “Where to?”

The demon escorted him to a room, where he was flayed, burned, sliced open from head to toe, before the process repeated without end. The bandit never once screamed, only watching in amusement as he was tortured. Every day the demon would return, screaming and hollering insults and curses at the man, brandishing the instruments of torture himself, trying his damnedest to get even a mere a whimper from him. Every time he was disappointed, infuriated beyond reason at the only two words the bandit ever uttered, “Thank you.”

After a few decades, innumerable new tortures, and much gnashing of teeth, the demon broke. Falling in tears at the feet of a mere human, he begged, “Why, why won’t you break?”

The bandit smiled, not in glee or mockery, but in a friendly, comforting manner. “Thank you.”

The demon went mad, and had to be restrained. What the demon did not know, was that the bandit only wanted one thing his whole life, attention. Everyone ignored him, it was only through the vilest of acts that his fellow man paid him even the scantest of thought, and that had been too fleeting for his tastes. The demon’s daily presence and constant consideration for the bandit not only allowed him to withstand the torture, but to enjoy it.

The moral is not finding happiness in a bad situation, as many mistakenly assume, but that hell must be suitably tailored to the man.

For some this may take the form of a glowing red underworld. Narrow, claustrophobic subterranean passages twisting into red tinted darkness. Molten streams of magma that singe hair and flesh even from a distance. Burning hot pokers and brands constantly being stabbed and stamped into one’s skin.

Or perhaps a desolate, icy mountaintop. Ice and snow covering the landscape, only occasionally interrupted by small outcroppings of rock. Wind that not only cuts you to the quick, but freezes that over as an afterthought. Frostbite an instant affliction, offset only by the ear shattering howls of the wind. Wolves and other snow beasts tearing at your flesh serving only as a momentary reprieve to the never-ending frigid anguish.

My hell was no less elaborate, no less exquisitely detailed. Whoever had designed this, surely could only have had myself in mind. Pink, flowery, wallpaper complimented with equally pink, thick, carpet. Pink tablecloths delicately adorning circular tables that were too short for adults. The stools were equally short, a garish red oak whose color was actually, surprise surprise, dark pink… Every spot had white porcelain teacups, a teapot per table with sugar and milk bowls near. Light pink lace doilies for each spot. Doilies, really? Then why even use a tablecloth!

Was this a Spire, or a Godsdamn tea party? Ugh…

Even worse, were the miniature sculptures of malevolence. They were everywhere, fashioned in cute dresses, many pink. Their lifeless, glass eyes threatened untold malice. A miniature fork to the back, perhaps some marbles loosed at the right time underfoot, applying lipstick to some poor sod too tired to keep watch over the little monstrosities. And these were only the small irritations… Though it was still nearly two months unto the Nalia, I shuddered violently.

Divine mages, or clerics as they were simply called, filled each table, happily chattering away, oblivious of the damnation around them. All had their white hoods pulled back, their robes immaculate. There were about twenty tables, each with seating for up to 12 mages. Most tables had only one or two spots vacant, luckily I eyed a table near the door with only two women. Both were average height and proportions, one with dark brown hair and a fair face and the other blonde with slightly better looks. They watched me uncertainly as I approached.

“Mind if I sit with you two?”

“Huh? Aren’t you a water mage?” The brunette asked.

“Double affinity, I have water and divine.”

“Wow! We were told only women could be healers!”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

I took their soft smiles as an invitation and sat two chairs from the brunette.

“I’m Melissa, and this is Courtney.”

“Hi,” the blonde, Courtney, said.

“I’m Tome, a pleasure to meet you two,” I stared at the yellow flowers on the petite teacup in front of me, of all the damned luck…

I grabbed the tea pot and poured myself a cup, wondering if the tea tasted like friendship, unicorns, and Godsdamn happiness. I was really hoping it was bitter…

“What d’ya think of our classroom?” Melissa asked, eyeing me carefully.

I took a small sip, nope, tasted like someone had blended cookies, maple syrup, and cinnamon in beforehand. Pushing the cup away, I debated on just being done with it and trying my poisoned canteen…

“No offense, but I’m praying that all the pink and cuteness isn’t infectious.”

I should have been more cautious, but the porcelain figure seated to my right had me unnerved. Gods, I needed to find a mace.

“Ha, ha, ha!” The two exploded happily in unison.

“My God, finally someone with some sense! What the hell is with all this ridonkulous pink?”

Her use of such a weird word was a tell, but her first words made it all too clear.

“So, the two of you are other worlders?”

“Yeah, wow, how could you tell?”

“I’ve just got an eye for such things,” in actuality an ear, but no one likes it when a person even hints that the way another talks is anything but the standard.

“Yeah, the two of us are from Missouri.”

Hmm, “Is that anywhere near Colorado?”

“Yeah! We’re pretty close, there’s only Kansas between our two states, but you can’t consider them a real state. Pretty much just flat fields and farms throughout, ha, ha!”

I nodded in understanding, so there was a weak buffer state between the actual powerhouses of Colorado and Missouri. Most likely the two raided their weaker neighbor, taking what they needed to keep Kansas under their thumb while at the time maintaining a healthy barrier to each other’s expansion. Doubtless, Kansas had none of the technology the actual states possessed, forcing them to have to grow their own food instead of hunting in those illustrious supermarkets.

It was odd that this would happen in such a resource rich society, but also encouraging. When man or beast stops coveting, they weaken and die. In the Republic, we don’t mind warring every so often, but we’d prefer if we could declare peace for half a decade every now and again. Like anything in life, too much of a good thing can quickly turn bad. Besides, it’s far easier to sharpen your blades when you’re not under attack, that and sneak attacks would work so much better.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“The two of us were studying to be chemists back in our world.”

“Ah,” alchemy/chemistry, heretic burnings/picknicks, “To run an apothecary?”

“Ha, ha, no, I was planning on going to 3M, even had a job lined up after I was to graduate, this month, before we got taken here.”

“Yeah, I was going to work at the water plant, of all the rotten luck.”

Both went up in my estimation. Most other worlders reveled in their allegorical mantles and crowns. Call someone your savior, your only hope, your hero, and you’d be amazed at what little they wouldn’t do to earn those meaningless accolades. They all thought us barbaric, funny how easy it is to slaughter and torture those who aren’t as civilized as you. The Republic was certainly no benevolent state, but we were honest in our actions, well, most of them anyways...

Conquer a new city? If they didn’t surrender fast enough you can bet quite a few would be slaves, a few executed for good measure, and the rest peasants. We don’t apologize, but neither do we stand tall in our saddle, claiming that God or justice itself dictated such an outcome. No, might and right go hand in hand, much like gorgeous women and rich men.

“I’m sorry to hear that, have you had trouble adjusting?” I didn’t really care, but it was better to get this unfortunate part of the conversation over with.

“Ugh, we miss the internet, but other than that most people here have been nice.”

“Well, there are the toilets.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s no toilet paper!”

“Just those damned sponges on sticks! Ack!”

I nodded slowly, keeping my mouth shut. The tersos worked fine, but everyone in their world used soft parchment paper to wipe their asses. There was much debate amongst scholars as to how much knowledge was wasted cleaning their backsides.

The tersos, or sponges, were hygienic when rinsed properly in the vinegar and herb wash buckets, “Yeah, quite unhygienic.”

I didn’t care for their attitude on this subject, but seeing as how they appeared to be the only others in the room with an equal aversion to pink, I could stand to be forgiving.

“But, beyond that, the most annoying thing is probably slavery.”

Well, that really depended on whether you were the master or mastered.

I nodded again, a safe, innocuous action that could keep one’s true feelings contained while appearing sympathetic. This topic was quickly becoming vexing, I pulled out my flask to take an annoyance sip.

“Hey! What’re you drinking?”

I held the flask up for them better to see it, as though it would somehow magically let them see the liquid sloshing within, “Sapphire Brandy.”

“Mind if we get a shot’s worth!?” The brunette bubbly asked.

Hmm, I was liking these girls more and more. They each dumped their half-filled teacups into the teapot before pushing their cups towards me. I generously filled each before emptying my own tea back into the pot. I poured myself a cup and the three of us clinked glasses. They also had class, that was refreshing compared to so many other other worlders.

“Uh, that’s hard stuff!” Courtney mumbled, quickly taking a second longer sip to finish the whole cup.

“Just what mama needs!” Melissa sang, downing her lot even quicker.

I stared at my full cup in apprehension. The teacup was far larger than even four shot glasses. Sighing, I quickly finished my portion as well. They had been more than welcoming, best not to appear unsociable.

“Mind if we get some more?”

Laughing heartily, I poured the rest into our cups, giving each of them a larger portion than myself. Getting drunk was always fun, waking up the next morning, not so much. Courtney quickly poured half of her lot into Melissa’s cup.

“This is already more than enough for me.”

“Ha, ha! I’m on fire today!”

“Ha, ha, ha,” I chuckled with her.

She had fair looks, a great attitude, and would probably have a fair amount of power with her arcane. She would be an asset to her husband, and had better than average odds of surviving. The only real stumbling block to a secure future, other than happenstance, was her morality. Or lack thereof. Other worlders always let their views on morality taint every other word they spoke, every action they undertook. Morality was decided upon by society, and to be adhered by the individual, not the other way around. What was moral in their world was often amoral in ours, yet it was we locals who needed to change, not our guests.

Like many, I strongly disliked other worlders, but only hated them when they inopportuned myself, or lectured about things that weren’t changing. There were a fair number who hated them with a passion thanks to their forbearers. In my view, that was something they were not culpable for, for the moment. Give an other worlder enough time with others of their ilk, and they’d always start some trouble. The Republic was littered with their corpses as proof…Although…No…It wasn’t…

Their bodies were always collected upon death and sent to the nearest city. Sure, some escaped detection, but these were typically eaten by beasts or shredded into too miniscule of pieces to be reclaimed. It was odd, the dead were cremated by everyone in Nostrum. It seemed wasteful to be carting their bodies off to various cities when they could just be burned anywhere. Perhaps they needed to throw the corpses back into whatever portal they’d entered in from? Who knows, maybe their corpses could infect others with foolishness and thus needed to be properly disposed of.

I took a sip of my brandy as a dainty metal ringing was heard. Delilah Silvanus stood from the center table at the head of the room. Her white robe littered with runes and badges, silver hair flowing behind her back.

“Welcome, fellow supplicants of the Divine! Let me thoroughly welcome you all to the great calling!”

There was an eager soft clapping and an outbreak of smiles amongst the women. I clapped and forced a smile to hopefully not look too unimpressed.

“This is our meeting room, you are always welcome to come here for tea and cookies, no matter the hour or day. The door to the right leads to our practice room and the door to my left leads to several cloisters for intensive instruction and meditation. Several of you have asked about taking another affinity for protection, don’t. Taking another affinity will be at best a distraction to mastering the divine. At worst, you may actually lose your empathy, which will be the same as severing yourself from the grace of healing. Healing is the art of using empathy to heal the wounds of our brothers and sisters. For this reason, any healers who accompany the army on campaigns must stay in the back, well away from the carnage at the front.”

“Screw that noise,” Melissa said eyeing Courtney.

Courtney winked back at her.

Wow, yeah, these two were better than the average other worlder. Was it because they were from the stalwart state of Missouri? I was making a fairly large assumption, but that was the only difference between them and the others that I knew of. I’d have to query them later, but either way, at least I wasn’t alone in this pink hell hole.

“You are all now a part of the glorious…”

Instructor Silvanus went on for some time about paying homage to the Gods, making sure to love your common man like yourself, wiping your ass with rainbows, and yada, yada, orc shit yada… I tried, and failed miserably, to follow her long prosy entreaties and ways to enhance your compassion. Luckily, me and the girls managed an inaudible conversation of smirks, eye rolls, and grimaces. By the grace of the Gods, she finally wrapped it up and led us to the practice hall.

The walls and floor were pink, but minus the carpet. Infirmary tables were scattered near the northern wall, row upon row of stacked cages filled with rabbits, chickens, and ducks along the southern. Looking closely, there was a gap between the cages, the animals on the left fairly lively while those on the right seemed to all have an injury or defect.

“This is where we shall begin your training, groups of 12 will be formed, led by one senior mage. Listen closely to her and follow her instructions.”

Silvanus smiled and gave a curt bow before leaving the room. Oddly enough, all the girls seemed to already know who their group leader was and quickly flocked to their side. Me, Melissa, and Courtney stood perplexed as we watched the final group form and head to a table. The only other divine mage left was a short, scarecrow of a mouse.

“Ah, hello there!” She squeaked, “I’m Tess, I’ll be your group leader from now on!”

“Hi! I’m Melissa!”

“Hello! I’m Courtney!”

“A pleasure. Tome.”

We all greeted her; my friends more excited than myself. Tess looked upon us all with wide eyed trepidation. Looking closely, her eyes were moist and she was shaking. Looks like Tess got the short end of the stick today in regards to pupils.

“F, f, follow me please!”

We followed her to an infirmary table far from any of the other groups. Safety wise this was preferable, but the implication still annoyed me. Sure enough, out of my periphery I saw the other girls stealing glances at us, frowning, and whispering conspiratorially. I debated on sighing, but realized I hadn’t been expecting any other sort of treatment.

“So how long have you been a healer?”

“Oh, uh, three years now, I’m finishing my advanced classes now.”

“OH WOW! Courtney and I were just finishing our Master degrees at Missouri State University!”

“Okay, that’s, uh? That’s really, oh? Great?”

Tess’s voice almost broke under the strain of her words. If we were lucky, perhaps she’d break down sobbing after teaching us a bit about our arcane.

--------------------------------------------------

The other worlders have a good tale of damnation, that of Sissy Foot (an oddly pathetic name, but such is the norm to a weak society). For his crimes against the Gods, which could be anything from blasphemy to having a pet rock collection, he was condemned to an eternal punishment. He was tasked with pushing a giant boulder up the face of a cliff, whereupon it would always escape his grasp at the last moment, crashing back to the bottom. Day in and out he performed this endless task, always failing, but never ceasing.

The story was meant to show the cruelty of the Gods, but it also displays their ingenuity. There were no whips, flails, or guards to enforce the punishment, no, just one pathetic, fleeting promise. Push the rock to the top, and you will be released. The Gods knew Sissy Foot, they knew him so well that he became his own warden, torturer, enforcer, and victim.

There are many horrific tortures in this life and the next, the worst typically being the ones we inflict on ourselves.

-Silvanus Bruti, Earth Mage