Halel

A week before the Hamet appeared….

It’s been around three weeks since I was taken prisoner by the Zi.

They’ve been sniffing around the town of Murgi for a while now, and it seems that they figured out that I was one of the ones involved in alham’s illegal trade. Specifically, I was the one taking care of their accounting, acting as a steward of sorts.

Once they had their suspicions that I was a part of that organization, two men dressed in alham coated armor started trailing me from my home.

At first, I thought it was just mere coincidence.

But after they followed my every move—trailing me through the same narrow passageways— I realized then that they were on to me.

As soon I became aware of this fact, I understood the urgency of contacting Darat, my closest ally.

In order to lose them, I started to speed up my pace.

Unfortunately for me, this caught their attention. Their brisk pace turned into a steady sprint as they sped up to try to catch me.

As I made sure that I was fast enough to avoid them, I chose a smaller alleyway to the right and ran towards it in order to lose them in the town’s vast alleyways. But just as I entered it, a man dressed the same as my pursuant threw a punch towards my head, rendering me unconscious immediately.

When I awoke, I found myself in a dark, dingy room. There was no proper flooring, with the floor being composed of soil, gravel and various small wooden sticks. In contrast, the walls were porous and rough, composed of multiple stones held together using dried sand with small shafts of light where there were small holes in the wall.

The men had heard me shuffling about as I woke up, so they dragged me out of the room and placed me onto a wooden stool where I was surrounded by six of the armored Zi. They were wearing their armor which covered them from head to toe, with only a single slit allowing them to see. Through it, I saw their eyes — cold and lifeless, without any trace of emotion.

They asked me questions like “Who are you?”, “Do you belong to a smuggling ring?” and “Do you know who the members of the smuggling ring are?”

Despite the pressure to give an answer, I lied and claimed that I knew nothing.

They obviously weren’t pleased with this answer, because one of them brought out what looked like a leather whip coated with alham metal.

When alham comes into contact with other metals, the metal dissolves into the Alham, creating a metallic variant of it. Once heated and coated onto cloth or leather, the material retains its flexibility. However, upon impact, it instantly gains the rigidity and strength of the original metal.

The man obviously used the same method that their armor used to increase the effect of their whip. Despite its intimidating nature, I persisted in maintaining my silence. But when I did, the man started lashing at my back with the alham coated whips. Each strike felt like small, sharp knives digging into my skin as I felt nothing but agonizing pain, but still I would not betray my allies.

After what felt like an eternity, the whipping finally stopped as they probably realized that I wouldn’t tell them a word. Perhaps thinking that they might have a use for me in the future, they decided just to lock me in the room. Giving me just enough food to survive, but not enough to stop feeling the hunger pangs that persisted with no end.

A few moments after they locked me in the room, I discovered that the walls weren’t constructed very well, being held together by gravity and friction alone. This was probably because the locals of Murgi did not trust these foreigners at all, giving them only the most run down of houses to stay in.

From then on, day after day, I silently worked on unraveling the wall without being seen or heard. I did this with the assistance of a small twig that I found on the floor, using it to slowly scrape away the sand holding the stones together.

This process was both tedious and time-consuming, made even longer by the need to ensure that it looked about the same, and that I made no noise while doing so. Each stroke had to be slow and precise as even the slightest mistake could draw unwanted attention but my injuries

Those two hindrances made it so that the whole undertaking took about three weeks to complete with many close calls along the way. Adding to the problem, the fact that my wounds did not seem to heal and instead worsened did not help in any way. Finally, when it was an hour before the break of dawn, I heard no movement outside the door. Which meant that all men were asleep and wouldn’t be checking the room for another few hours.

This is my time to strike.

I placed my hands on the wall and pushed, the stones then came falling down. As I went outside, I paced along the path leading me to the main road. As I recognized my surroundings, I hurried to my house in order to destroy any documents pertaining to the group which may still be there.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

As I found myself in front of my home which sat alone in the outskirts of the town, I saw that the door was left ajar. When I entered, I found the house meticulously searched, with every piece of furniture and chest checked.

So this is what they were doing all that time.

As I rushed towards the spot where I hid the documents that had information on the smuggling ring, it miraculously was left unchecked. To reveal the documents, I pulled out the floorboards and brought out a chest hidden within.

Once I had the chest, I opened it and inside was a large amount of the smuggling ring’s financial history.

We cannot afford for the Zi to find this.

Thinking this, I rushed as fast as I could to the nearby river despite the pain caused by the lacerations on my back. I was determined to destroy the vital information on the documents no matter the cost. Sad to say, my luck was disastrous because just as I was reaching the bridge that was constructed over the river, I heard familiar voices behind me. These weren’t voices of allies, but one of the Zi who had discovered my location. He was chasing after me, an iron saber unsheathed from his hip.

As I was just about to reach the middle of the bridge ready to throw the documents into the river, I felt a sharp tug on my tunic. In an instant, his blade pierced my chest, driving the breath from my lungs.

It was over for me.

But in one last act of defiance, I flung my weight towards the edge of the bridge, plunging both myself and the documents into the river.

As my death came ever closer, I thought of my life and of the man who gave me purpose.

“Avenge me, Darat” I thought as darkness overtook my fading consciousness.

A week later, in the compound…

“Why’d you call me here, Piyan?” I asked.

“I think he’s someone we know, Darat. I just had to confirm that I was correct.” he replied.

He unwrapped the body, it was soaking wet with a sword wound on its chest but the corpse somehow felt familiar to him.

Then, a stroke of realization hit him.

No.

I couldn’t be.

“Do you know who this is?” he asked “We had our guesses that it could be Halel but—”

Visibly shaken, I interrupted him, “Where did you find this body?” I asked

“We found it washed up on the riverbed, it must have been around a week since he died. So is it Halel?”

“Yes, it is.” I confirmed as my face twisted into a downcast expression.

Piyan tried to comfort me, “I’m very sorry for your loss, I know how much he meant to you.”

I recalled how I recruited him.

His father was a prominent merchant that supplied us with our group with the timber needed to run our operation in exchange for our support in his endeavors.

This relationship was beneficial to both sides, that is until the unthinkable happened. A fire broke out in his home, taking the life of his wife and daughter. The flame also spread to the nearby warehouse wherein he kept his goods, everything inside was reduced to ashes.

The merchant only survived because he and Halel were somewhere else at the time. He came back to find his business destroyed and his family shattered. This ruined his mental state, making him increasingly reckless and self-destructive. One day he set off to make business in a foreign land, promising to return.

Unfortunately, he never did.

When I heard about this, I felt sorry for the boy and sought him out.

I found him on the street, starving and homeless.

Feeling pity, I offered him a job as our steward knowing that he had the skills to be one.

This arrangement lasted a few years, with him doing his work diligently all-throughout.

To be honest, my mind eventually had come to think of him as a son because of the difference in age as well as the extent of our bond. His mind, however, was still focused on finding his father and reconnecting him.

When I found him missing and his house ransacked, I thought he had finally left to find his father. Knowing his deep desire to get back to his father, I respected his wishes and made no fuss.

That was a mistake.

Now, I know that it was Zi who went and made a mess of his house. I should have known that he wouldn’t have left without a word, especially after our years together. The result of my foolishness was the corpse that lay before me now.

and now he lay in front of me as a corpse.

We need to get rid of the Zi.

They need to pay.

In the storeroom…

The three hours that Qaton spent teaching me the alphabet and basic words did not go to waste, I could probably now understand about ten percent of basic conversations.

The lesson only came to an end because of Darat. More specifically, he seemed like he was asking Qaton to come with him. The most surprising part was how Qaton beckoned me to follow him, marking the first time I’ve been anywhere outside the warehouse since I was brought here. So I brought my slate and stylus with me and followed him.

As I followed the men into another large hall which was filled with a few men, they stared at me curiously while talking to each other. I avoided their gaze and followed Qaton into another smaller room, within it was a corpse of a man in his twenties which made my heart skip a beat when I saw it.

The whole room smelled absolutely vile, probably emanating from the body that lay on a table in the center of the room. The damp corpse’s most significant feature was a large hole that was seen piercing his chest.

Using the terms that Qaton had taught me earlier, I asked Qaton how this had happened.

He explained, in very limited terms, that it was the Zi who had done this.

As I asked who the Zi were, he took my slate and drew men with familar-looking armor.

The same men who were trying to capture me the other day.

Oh.

So they were the Zi.

As I pondered upon the gravity of their crime, I made up my mind and finally decided what I had to do.

While I was to blame for the first altercation, it seems that the Zi weren't exactly on the straight and narrow either.

Darat and Qaton can never rest easy as long as they roam this town.

To return the favor, I need help get rid of them.

For my sake, and for Qaton's.