Chapter 72: The Trials of Iasa
After washing up, I realized how short-supplied my wardrobe had become as I dressed.
I’ll have to ask him about this later. He must’ve taken some spare clothes from my backpack…
The bathroom that Crow had taken me to had a shower with running hot water, a working toilet, a sink, shampoo, body wash, a razor, towels, a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste, and more. The whole hygiene routine felt refreshing after a few days of living outdoors.
“Sure took your time in there,” says Crow, who was waiting for me in the hallway with a grin as I exited the bathroom.
“Spend some time in the woods, and I’m sure you would too,” I replied, a little creeped out that he was waiting for me.
“I have,” snorts Crow. “Follow me. Breakfast is this way.”
Now, escorting me down a short hallway, I take notice of various closed rooms on either side.
“What are these rooms for?” I ask as I get a whiff of the scent of maple.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Closets, laundry room, office room, you get the idea.”
Taking a right, we quickly enter the first doorway on our left. As we walk inside, I’m instantly hit with a wave of bright smells that can only be associated with breakfast. The large room is visually split in two, with the left half being a kitchen of luxurious appeal. In contrast, the right half is a dining room that continues that theme of magnificence, with multiple hanging chandeliers and framed paintings decorating the walls. Additionally, the ceiling is high, and the floor is made of marble.
Entering the kitchen, Crow instructs, “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll bring the food over.”
Ambling over toward the chair closest to me, I brush its unique gilded frame, mesmerized by its’ golden white hue. Gently pulling the chair out, I set down my backpack and sat at the long, dazzling table, caught off guard by the soft cushion on the seat. Leaning back against the chair and getting comfortable, I take note of the hand-cut, crystalline glasses designated per each chair and the ivory white cloth covering the table.
So this is how Crow has been living? Where… are we?
“I know you’re starving, but try and wait ‘til I bring all the food before diving in,” says Crow as he places a plate of pancakes covered in maple syrup before me. My mouth begins to water as he puts a plate slathered with sparkling bacon beside the pancakes.
As if to torture me, he brings the plates one by one, each having its’ own delicious fragrance and display of food that seemingly tops all the others before it. He then set down a glass bottle of orange juice between us and sat across from me, signaling that it was the last of it. Licking my lips, I immediately go to grab the plate of bacon, and he stops me by reaching across the table and grabbing my wrist, causing the table to shudder.
“Eat first, and we talk after. Understand?” says Crow, his brows raised.
I give a sharp nod, anxious to start eating, “Of course.”
Crow lets go of me, and I hastily begin filling my plate with a mix of flavorful foods. Stuffing my face, my stomach cried tears of joy at the nourishment enriching my deprived body. The entire meal went by in a blur; not a single word was said between Crow and me, and honestly, I completely forgot I was eating with another person. I didn’t even realize how quickly I was scarfing down the plentiful food until I went to get more and noticed no food was left.
Sitting back in my chair, I put a hand on my bloated stomach and burp.
“How’d you like it?” asks Crow, taking a sip of orange juice from his glass.
“It was better than I could’ve ever imagined,” I responded.
“Hmph,” grunts Crow, taking another sip from his glass before muttering something I couldn’t discern.
Setting his drink down, Crow leans forward, “From now on, you can call me by my actual name, Zeris. I was a competitor in the 38th annual trials and was the only survivor of sector six.”
The two of us lock eyes as the mood turns on a dime, the atmosphere becoming much heavier.
“Your real name is Alex, and your father and I are close. Brothers in arms, if you will.”
“My… father?”
“Yes, Alex, I’ve known you and your father for quite a few years now,” says Zeris. “Even without memories of your past, you’re still just as stubborn as ever.”
“Okay…” I utter, trying to follow along. “Zeris, that’s your name. And my name is Alex, and you know my father and me. Why’d you try to kill me then?”
“I had to put on a facade and ensure the royals thought I was unbiased towards you. I wasn’t ever going to kill you. You’re far too valuable of an asset toward our mission.”
“Mission? What mission?”
Zeris puts up a hand, “We’ll get to that later. I want-”
I cut him off, “Am I valuable because of that special ability you said I awakened…? I believe you called it iris. Are my powers why you didn’t kill me?”
“That’s part of it, but it’s not all about what your father and I want. I work for the kingdom, and they only want the strongest to survive the trials. We trial runners are supposed to ensure that philosophy is upheld. Your special abilities give you an edge over those who don’t have any, which means I wouldn't have killed you even if I didn’t know who you were. But make no mistake, you were never supposed to die.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I bring a hand to my chin as I think to myself.
There it is again, that same theme of strong versus weak. I guess I know why he kept referring to it now…
“As I was saying before you interrupted me, I want to indulge you on what exactly is going on,” says Zeris as he scratches his scarred cheek.
I opt to stay silent, and he resumes, “You are currently partaking in an annual event dubbed “The Trials of Iasa”. It’s a cruel affair enforced by the higher-ups in the kingdom, most notably the current queen. Every year, every eighteen-year-old is forced to participate in the trials. The overall intention of the trials is to considerably cut down the population and lessen the effects of famine. This is the 44th year that these trials have been held.”
“Why… why would the kingdom feel the need to do this? You said you were part of the 38th annual trials and the only survivor, right? That means they’ve killed dozens… no, maybe hundreds of young men and women… in that year alone. All this to combat… famine? It doesn’t make any sense. You just served me the best breakfast I’ve probably ever had, and look around us….”
Zeris smirked as he picked up his glass, waving it in the air, “Look at you. Seems you got a brain in there, after all. Yeah… you pretty much nailed it on the head. This kingdom’s people are starving, yet here we are, sitting in a lavish cottage, eating more food in one sitting than most do in a whole week.”
He crushes the glass in his hand, making it shatter and cutting his hand. Pushing myself back to avoid possible stray shards, I stare at Zeris, bewildered.
“Doesn’t it make you sick? They give a whole cottage to a single person, with more food than most could eat in a year. The fact that most of it will just go to waste… makes my insides churn. They wouldn't have to go to such extremes if they would just help and feed the people. Instead, they let the population starve, keeping their money, food, and benefits for themselves. All this... just to retain their image, investments, and power to the rest of the world. It’s revolting. People are dying on the streets from not having any food to eat, and the queen will do anything to keep it that way,” says Zeris, the minor cuts on his hand already beginning to heal.
Staying silent again, I nod, signaling Zeris to resume as I scoot closer to the table.
“They instituted the trials to control the public. They fear the people more than anything, so by killing a chunk of the population every year and only allowing a few to carry on living, they lessen the chances of a rebellion. You can’t rebel without people, and people can’t survive without basic needs. And that’s not all… participants of the trials have their memories locked away deep within them, meaning they still retain their personality but overall lose their identity,” says Zeris, shaking his head.
“They essentially become somebody without guidance, and they aren’t bound to anything or anyone. Therefore, the people deemed to be strong in some manner and survive the trials can become the kingdom's foundation by being molded into whatever role is required. As blank slates, these “worthy” people are conscripted into the military, forced into manual labor, or assigned to… other occupations. By practically brainwashing them, these people are conditioned to believe their given life is where they belong and should serve until death. With this sadistic process, the royals can even subdue the survivors, the people who should hate them the most. But even that wasn’t enough… you still with me, Alex?”
Slightly overwhelmed, I take a deep breath, “Yeah… keep going. I’m fine.”
Zeris says, “Okay… just tell me if I need to stop.”
Itching my nose, I give him a nod to continue.
“After the first few years that the trials were held, outliers like myself began to slip through the system. As far as the royals know, I’m just a loyal member of the kingdom’s military, but these other guys weren’t as smart. At the time, those older than eighteen were never forced to participate in the trials, so they never lost their memories and retained their free will. The survivors began a movement among the hungry and angry adult citizens, almost leading to an all-out war. Even though the threat was prominent, the royals squashed it before an official uprising could begin. A new law was then put in place, known as “The Age of Divination”, which stated that any person at or over the age of 40 can and will be executed. They claimed this law was put in place to protect the kingdom's future and, once again, lessen the effects of famine. The same reasoning they gave for when the trials were first established.”
“Any person over the age of 40 was… killed?” I ask, horrified.
“Yes, almost half of the kingdom’s population was killed the following day. Those who also participated in the rebellion were executed, too. At least… the rebels they could find. From there, the kingdom started anew. Oddly enough, most of the people still alive were content with the new law, as they were no longer starving. The once-considered ‘scarce amount of food’ became a surplus for the living, and many started voicing their support for the kingdom, swearing their undying loyalty. But as the decades passed… our civilization could not maintain such sustenance on our own, and famine returned faster than anybody expected. Ironically enough, the rations your group worked out amongst yourselves are almost identical to how much food the average person eats daily in the kingdom.”
I sighed, “I think I’m starting to put this all together. This mission you mentioned earlier… the one you said I was vital toward. It’s another revolution you’re trying to start. Right?”
“That’s correct.”
I scoff, “So what are you doing here? I don’t get it. Why did you act so villainous towards us?”
Zeris pauses for a moment, “Because that’s how trial runners are conditioned to act. Those that survive the trials are meant to be shaken to their core, traumatized… and willing to lunge themselves straight into the “saving graces” of the government, that’s run entirely by the higher-ups. That’s what they want. I’m simply playing the part. They'll replace me if I don’t perform well at my job. How they do so… I’ll leave that up to your imagination.”
I lower my head, getting the idea.
“But I’m also here to protect you, Alex.”
As if instinctual, I lift my head and make eye contact with the man full of mystery once again.
“And it’s time you learn the truth,” he says as he stands up.
Walking by me toward the kitchen area, I watch Zeris open a drawer crowded with items, a sudden clutter of metal sounding. After taking out a handheld device, he closes the drawer behind him.
“This is the creation that can seal away memories, but it can also return them,” informs Zeris as he walks back over to me.
The device in Zeris’s hands looks like a gun, with a glass capsule on top, where a mystical crystal rests. Facing him as he steps up beside me, he says, “With just a single click of a button, you will remember everything. Alex, I'll tell you now that your life was not easy, and you’ve had your fair share of hardships. Your father has told me that he wants you to remember because your memories have shaped you into who you are. However, losing one's memories may not be such a bad thing to some. You can start anew, start fresh. It’s all about perspective. So, I’m going against your father's wishes and giving you a choice. Alex, do you want to remember your life?”
I gape at the device for a long time, wondering what to do. But when I shifted my gaze to Zeris, every interaction I had had with him so far flashed by in an instant. And I remembered something.
The choice is, once again… mine.
Instead of giving Zeris an answer, I deliver my own counter-question.
“Will remembering make me stronger?” I ask, my eyes flickering in and out of a blaze.
His disarranged face curls into a grin. Not one of malicious intent… it was a grin of approval.
“Yes, choosing to remember will make you stronger,” he replies as he raises the device, resting the tip of it against my temple.
“Then shoot me, I’m read-”
Click!
Before I finish my sentence, I hear the click of a button. As my vision rapidly spirals into nothingness, I feel a violent twinge of pain emerge beneath my forehead as I black out.