Gregor huffed in the swelling heat of mid-autumn. Sweat weighed his garments, soaked to a soft mud as the sun beat down, high overhead.
He toiled and strained, widening the hole, cutting the roots to clear a path for himself. Crawling deeper with each dig and throwing everything out on the unearthed slope. He lost himself till the air parched his throat, and the coughs were too much to ignore.
Gregor took his break, carefully sipping on his canteen, just enough to quench the need and draw out his supply. He surveyed his progress with a critical eye. Taking a rock, he threw it down the hole. Bobbing and tumbling, scraping the dirt in muffled crashes. Nothing caught his ear, until it clipped an echo, silence went for a few more seconds before it hit something hard and sputtered out over itself.
A smile came over his dry lips. He was getting closer.
His morning started in failure, there was nothing marking any outlet for the stream. No source for water, not even a tiny puddle came in his sights. Only he was grateful for the few edible berries and nuts to store away.
The tree was his only path, and the rebound of sound pushed him forward in seeing the cave it sheltered.
Maybe another hour before he could get to the end of this hole. He just hoped he didn’t have to pick any rock at the end.
He took another sip, readied his dirtied pot, and crawled back into the hole.
The tunnel was snug, the light was near nothing, but it was enough to scrape with his spoon and scoop into the pot. Not the most heroing experience, but glamor was not in his future.
He had seen himself survive grimmer days in that dreamscape.
Theodore… Rena… Oscar… Paul…
One or another, they were there in these early years. Fighting, training, starving… against everything that wished to put them down. He— they kept on moving.
He thought about them a lot these days, about what his futures could be. Trying to sift through more detailed information, pushing the bounds of his memory to no avail. No matter how he thought or worked, it just wouldn’t come, the time he had to write his futures was but a window. Closing, fading the more it lingered, left with but a few faces, names, and emotions to hold to himself and remember unpaid debts.
It was a tiring burden, one that thankfully lost its focus as he kept moving. Kept pushing. Kept on digging…
His breath became shallow, his lingering thoughts dwindled with the light. The last he dumped the pot on the hill the sun was near an orange hue. And he was still digging.
Gregor’s body felt the press of the earth, cutting corners to save on time. Perhaps the only thought piercing through was how he underestimated the work that needed to be done.
Clink— He hit something hard, his spoon could go no further. A shot of adrenaline lit up the drear, his hands dropped the tools felt along the tunnel’s edge. The dirt was packed with sediments of sand and clay, abruptly giving way to a rough-hard texture. He pressed on, until there was nothing but air.
No sides, no rock, just air.
Gregor was stunned, snapping out of his flow. Greeted with the sounds of drips and trickles of water.
He couldn’t help but grin, pressing on with abandon, squeezing his body through uncaring of the consequences— only he couldn’t. The weight of earth wouldn’t give before his body. Pain pinched his shoulders enough for him to pull back with a groan. He stared into the dark, trying to catch his breath and attempting to pick at the stone to no avail.
Gregor resigned to reality. Shimming himself he was greeted with dusk upon his success.
He wiped some of the dirt across his face, basking in the final moments of the day. Coming back to the state of things, the impulse burying himself away as he looked upon his body. Dirtied, bruised, even cut packed with stained red earth.
Gregor was in no shape to attempt to explore the cave, let alone attempt the Trial if he found it.
He sat there, draining the last of his water. Relishing in the grace of a minor meal of berries and nuts. His frown was heavy, he wished he looked out for more food on his survey. Shame reared its head after seeing the lifetimes of hardship.
When did it start to slip? How was becoming so blind?
Risking trauma for no great gain, nor great need. Practically asking it to come and bit him in the ass later. Closing the doors to his wondrous possibilities— all because of his impatience, his obsession.
Gregor looked to the setting sun and then the rising moon. Their slow streak across the sky made him feel the weight of the moment.
Time would pass, but there was no need to rush. He was in the middle of practically nowhere, no one would come to his aid. He was alone, and only he could save himself, help himself through this mess.
If it means to hold for a day, then he would need to learn again. The meaning of patience, in waiting for your enemies to falter and release the Nightmares of their deepest fears.
Gregor took a deep breath, releasing the strain on his mind. He had a camp to set, and rest for the night.
----------------------------------------
Ugh… Stars of light— Is everything against me? Desmond Marsal; Lord of Mudrey, thought.
Tirelessly, he had been working in his study. The great windows leading to the overlooking balcony told, in a soft orange, that the day was near done. He let out a hefty sigh at the stacks of papers finished and not.
He was well ahead of schedule on the reformation of their “Slums.” Loans, buildings, men, tools— all of it was being prepped as it seemed to be readying in the Dukedom’s eyes.
But the heir of the Dudley Dukedom was not happy oversight that was demanded of his status.
The child pretending to be a man marched in his home and demanded his service forthright. Cutting through every basis of nobility his father and mother preached within their domain. Desmond had to keep a hold all his spirit to not summon the dogs upon the child for speaking as if he were a servant. Then, if the Stars weren’t finished, he brought forth the monstrosity that was the Duke’s ‘Revitalization of Basic Living Reform’; the ‘new’ way of life that all his cities shall adhere to.
Never mind few new people could afford such a thing, the charter outlined the expulsion of the poor infecting the cities. No doubt a cause of some noble spur that got lucky in their own reform, or the fling of some petty bet. Probably something to do with the King’s Gala this year.
Desmond hadn’t heard much of what happened, only that with this new command, and whispers of an “incident”… he was loving this way of life less than he did before. He could never understand what compelled his great-grandfather to take up such a title, nor his grandfather after their post got settled here.
He leaned back into his chair of quality leather and metal. Taking a long breath of subtle hints of his budding flowers and leaving in the room. Relaxing the strain upon his heart, and the whirlwind as he thought about the future.
How he wished for peace from it all.
There was a knock at the door, bringing Desmond to the present. He raised himself to act, “Enter.”
The head butler, a young man he recently employed to keep around with the other light staff. He bowed his head, “My Lord, your son wishes an audience with you for the hour.”
Desmond almost snorted at the fanciful speech, but the man knew nothing but some of those inflated commoner stories.
“He may enter.” He replied in show, and out came a man of similar age though more fine if he did say so himself— his son, Wilson, was becoming a spitting image of himself. “Leave us,” He commanded the butler. “And have no one else wander these halls for the hour.”
The young man bowed, and left with the closed door.
Wilson took his seat in one of the pair of ornate chairs. They waited quietly, a common countdown of thirty before the first words.
“Father, this is too much.” His son slumped, speaking with tired eyes, worn through the days of meeting abled men to keep their silence in the reform the Duke presented.
Desmond went along. Feeling the weight of the family. “I know, son. But it's only for another few months, and then we can be with your mother.”
“Can’t this farce go any faster? Half my life has been under the idiots of this domain— a few more months, or another visit for that bastard will be the end of my patience.” Desmond winced, his son had a good handle of the heir. He was younger by a few years, yet he watched as his son became forty, drained, as he tried subtly wrangle the man child, to not have a war crop up within the walls. “I feel like a year of my life is gone, father.”
Wilson wasn’t getting much sleep, coupled with his “preparation duties,” he also had to keep an eye on their… “guests.”
The Duke left part of their guard integrated with their own. In their uniform, to conduct their own plans in aiding the preparation. It weighed on Desmond’s soul that he was limited in escorting them, less since the only one who had any authoritative command over them was his heir, his son.
Even then he couldn’t be there all the time. Their attempts to have them followed were like trying to trail the wind and shadows. Gone the very next moment. Only reappearing at their appropriate check in times.
It was a slurry thought. He had to push some things back.
Desmond sighed, letting it all go. “Son, patiences will be our freedom. Do not forget what we are aiming for.”
“I know, it's just—“ Wilson groaned. “The silence, its deafening keeping this up.”
Again. Desmond felt his son’s outcry… they were alone, only keeping the charade of a parade marching through these halls. Commanding their staff, providing respect and a much finer way of living than most other servants. There wasn’t a whisper of complaint, only praise— it was such a shame the plan was working so well.
“Six months, that is the estimate that I’ll give to the Dukedom.” A generous time scale, both to himself and his “betters.” They wouldn’t be at the forefront, but they would pass, yet allowed to be forgotten without a second thought. Left with the guards to deliver the plan. “In two months I shall give the final report and in another three, I promise you we will set out our own plan and meet with the rest of the family.”
For the first time, in a while, there was a spark in his son’s eyes. “Promise.” He asked if he was a boy half his age.
A soft smile grew. “I promise, there'll be no one to miss us.”
At that they ended such heart pounding talks. Returning to the light words they were happily looking forward to.
----------------------------------------
Faus felt the edge of his best malformed dagger, splitting his concentration of Thame through the blade. Enveloping it in a hazy hue of the softest baby blue. He gritted his teeth, pushing further, willing to untangle the energies and open the pathway; less Tae more Anima.
He gasped, releasing the strain. Letting the Thame dispersing into motes of light. Frowning he leered at the dagger.
Looks like there is no short road for practice, he thought sadly. “Rifeng.”
Anima went with the word, following the similar path until there was a fine hue of Azure blue upon the blade. He focused on the connection, memorizing the path till it lapsed in color. Letting it go without a challenge, in blue light.
Progress was little better today, or the last few… the only thing he could say was that his preparations to leave this decrepit place were ready to enact its irony.
A kilo for every coin the shylock underhanded wouldn’t be enough justice. He was never a consequence, but he knew the man more than any he never met.
In the seasons of cold and snow, dying whispers of a man spurred conversations for a quarter of all he heard. Bonding their hatred by the little fires. Speaking of a man who dealt in fine prints and contracts bound by merchants of higher statues. He followed the paved road, and twisted goodwill to thorn gripping death of purses.
Ezekiel Gol.
He was a cruel man. Not even a man— a beast that knew no hunger and yet gorged his pits with gold till there was none left in the world.
He knew these men, they were nothing but parasites. Rot upon the land. Cannibals among civilized men.
No matter how they spin their words. Looked apart. Educated they are. They— are, all— savages!
Faus had to stop, his hand might be clamped permanently if he continued. But it was just so hard… these days, part of him seemed like it was all coming to an end too quickly. That not enough could be done as he was now.
It didn’t feel right, something was missing. A last stand for meaning— something to make right, more than just himself.
He huffed. Now’s not the time— he had to put it aside. Seeing the sky today might bring him some peace of mind for what it’s worth. And see to that meeting with Agatha tonight.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The message was received, and tonight, he will listen to what she found.
Though for it to be in-person... Agatha never does things like this— somethings a foot.
He had a few hours to kill, and a good meal was needed a lot more these troubling days.
----------------------------------------
Night fell as Faus shifted his way through the more open part of the slums. The meeting wasn’t at the main hold, it was to be held at a more “neutral” location. Whatever that meant, because the longer at the collapsed building, the more he was uncertain.
He waded around the outskirts, searching for any signs of foul play, people that shouldn’t belong. But there was nothing… strange. Faus returned before the doorway, looking around one last time, before pressing on.
The building was naturally as rubbled as it looked. But, over the paths of debris, there was a door hidden away. He opened it without a creak, coming to the sight of stairs and in the barest edge of the stairway; a soft light illuminated through another passage.
Faus gently closed the door, but the stairs weren’t so quiet. An eeriness tingled his gut, his hands naturally found themselves at the ready for the daggers hidden under his shirt. He came to the end, turning slowly into the light.
“Fritz?” Agatha’s voice came before anything. A smile on her weathered face relaxed her guards and guests. “Finally we can get started.”
There were but a few candles in the center of a crooked table. Agatha had herself seated at the unbroken end, along with two of the older children behind her. One’s was partially burned, an eye glued by skin shut, drifted giving barely any sight. The other, had scars upon their face, boils from a near forgotten infection. Leaving their mark to the sight of savage horror. But nothing else seemed out of place, their hands were normal and their grip steady, ready to act. Even if everything else told the look of inexperience.
Another woman huffed, catching Faus’s attention. She was younger, but perhaps a few years older than he was. Though her appearance was rough, her hair was short and disheaved, with the slightest hint of scars below her ears.
Then there was the man. Older, gruff— as if they all weren’t, but he appeared to be more aligned, more flourished in the heap of a dreadful life. He only gave Faus a once over with far eyes, returning his attention to the candles slowly whittling away, lost in whatever thoughts were going around.
“Please sit,” Agatha asked. As Faus complied, finding his part at the more broken end across from her. “A bit late running here? Did you catch any trouble.” She asked quizzically.
Faus shrugged, “I had a bit more coin and decided I would get a warm meal. I lost track of time, sorry.”
Agatha hummed. “Well, at least you’re alright.”
She looked around the room, seemingly for one last time.
“I’m sure you’re all aware of the increased guards patrolling the slums?” She asked, noting the strange sight. As far as Faus could tell they were on the lookout, but for what? He could not say. “I’ve had my own suspicions, but it has come to us that there is an order to purge the slums from Dudley House, their soldiers are preparing to arrive as soon as the schematics of rebuilding the slums are finalized.”
“Impossible,” the other woman protested. “Do they intend to spur a war with their influx?”
The older man absently nodded along.
Agatha softly waved her hand, “I know Raina. Stone. I thought that as well, until our little ones took some risks to get some information on the matter.”
Raina was quiet, but suppressing a scowl.
“Do you know why?” Stone asked.
“Though nothing is certain, we believe that they are looking to bolster the economic power play— all the cities within the Dukedom are required to show some force to this change.”
“Influx of immigrants from the north?”
Agatha shrugged. “The war far north has displaced many capable traders and skilled hands, they are seeking refuge and such, but I am unsure if it's related. There was no mention of relocation.”
Stone said nothing, a quiet thought took him before he returned to the candle light.
“Fuckin pig shit.” Raina growled, suppressing an eruption. A vein ticking on her head. “Lazy fucks didn’t want to put an effort into helping us so they are just getting rid of the “poor sight”.”
Agatha sighed, “I know Raina... But there isn’t a whole lot we can do amongst us to stop the sweep.”
“Then why are we here! Why not just just skip and go to the nearest town around?”
“Because part of that order is locking down the city, at least partially.” Agatha motion as one of her guards revealed some parchment, passing copies around. “They mean to round up the poor and cast them out to the wilderness with but a few pennies, while increasing the toll at the gates to prevent them from returning too quickly.”
Faus looked over the paper; the detailed outline, beginning with a slow death.
Three months of crippling the people here… before they cast out the remaining body. With the afforded military power, the guards are going to block off certain zones of the slums— isolating them entirely from one another. Offering the residents, or land owners a paltry sum for their holdings, if they fail to comply, then come time at the end of the month they will be persecuted, and their land confiscated.
A swell of rage boiled deep with Faus, as the familiar rhyme of time played out.
Another three months were allocated to clear out the decay and reform the streets to basic ground work where they would get people interested in the plots of land. With a helping hand from the Lord and the Dukedom, many contracts will be signed, and even more debt will be amassed from it.
Playing to their “birthright”— honor for gold.
It was corrupted as it looked.
Faus had seen most of every flavor of trades powerful people did, their own revolution was not without its own follies… but, he could say they were more grounded. They couldn’t prevent it all from happening, but Stars be damned if retribution wasn’t swift and hard.
Beheadings weren’t enough for the people who gave up lives for obscene pleasures.
“This is all very fine, but if the gates are being held and the plans are already into motion. Do we even have a course of action?” Stone asked.
“The Rein have already known some of this information and are preparing to slow down their operations for the year,” Agatha said. “With some of their more… drastic measures, it's looking to be a quiet year. Perhaps two, until the soldiers leave this city.”
“So we have nothing?” Raina said. “How could we let this go— after all our lives?!”
“We are but four Raina. I will not risk any more of my children than what has already been done.” She replied, her tone defensive. Her leer almost turned to furry before it vanished into the dark. “I am simply here to support you, whatever you wish. I will do the best I can and supply you with information, but know this— our time here, within this city shall only be for another three months. And by then, we’ll have left for another.”
Stone’s eyes went wide. Raina’s jaw went slack. Though Faus nodded along, a natural course for time being. One couldn’t win every battle, but surviving gives them a chance at something more.
“So you’re really leaving us Agatha?” Raina asked meekly. “For good this time?”
Agatha paused. She was stricken, a jolt that filled her eyes with remorse came. “I’m sorry my dear. You’re all much older now, though I wish your lives turned out better than what it turned out to be. There are other children that I must take care of, for their sake and future.”
Raina didn’t say anything but looked down at the table.
“I guess that’s it then?” Stone said. “This meeting then; was a final goodbye?”
“I’m afraid so, unless any of you have any last requests?”
Stone shook his head. Raina tried to keep a neutral expression, but her jaw was tight, and her eyes were shaken.
It was a dreaded atmosphere, one he was glad to not deal with in his command. But there was still something, more so not a mention of it.
He was curious, more than the simple feeling.
“Have you confirmed what happened to Sarah?” Faus asked, cutting through, getting everyone’s attention. Especially the guards, the hold on their weapons tighten.
“Yes…” Agatha blinked but gathered herself. “What happened that day, she’s with the Stars now.”
Faus closed his eyes. Thinking, maybe this is something to make peace with rotten odds. “I want the names, appearances if you can of who took part. And anyone else doing similar schemes.”
Raina and Stone gave him a hard look.
Though Agatha appeared worried; as if a mother were to overhear her child doing something horrific. Her instincts in this area were quite tuned, Faus noted— misaligned, but still.
“What are you asking for Fritz?” Agatha asked.
“I’m asking for information killers.”
“And, what do you plan to do with that information?” Agatha spoke with a hollow, unable to bear another sin or lost one.
“Retribution.”
Raina slammed her hands on the table, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”
“Me? I'm Fritz?” Faus replied with a smile.
Raina only showed her teeth, her face like meat over a fire; red, with smoke rising from it.
“Raina, please.” Agatha prompted a gentle hand to the mad woman. Raina stopped. Huffing before settling down, crossed her arms in defiance. Her emotions were smoldering, even now. “Fritz, if I assume right in saying. We are hopelessly outmatched— any attention drawn would only bring about a more early and aggressive sweep. I don’t want the children to get caught up in an unknown massacre.”
Everyone silently agreed. Trying to pierce his heart with simple stares, but they were lacking the most critical element… Conviction.
“When will it end?” Faus asked.
“What?” Agatha replied.
“I’m asking, “When is this all going to end?”” Faus repeated.
“It with be the course for three—“
“That is not what I asking.” Faus interrupted, causing Stone to have a moment within his eyes. Not enough, but maybe he’ll get there someday. Raina was trying to keep her fire in check, but only Agatha frowned. “Well, let's say the obvious.”
Faus continued, “Those who survive getting evicted from the city barely have enough for a single person to live off of for three months. If they move, or you if you’d like, would it be any different. Would the villages and towns left to you accept yourself if you don’t somehow weasel your way through their blockades?”
Stone’s eyes went cold, “Say what you mean.”
“You will leave, and you will die with nothing come winter getting thrown to the cold.” Because the bit of winter came quickly after summer, this far south; the winds of the ice continent blew fiercer than anywhere else. “And half of you will die.”
“The lord wouldn’t do that!” Raina protested. “It would kill any hope the people have in their rule.”
Faus looked at her like the idiot she was, “Have you not listened to anything? Do you not understand what has been shared here tonight?”
Raina scoffed, “The world doesn’t run with this all— slips of paper— They would be inviting rebellion if they kept their plans.”
Faus looked around, a false hope in her words— But, he couldn’t help himself but laugh.
Her face comically twisted. Like she didn’t know what to do, as she looked to Stone and Agatha. Both have their own frowns.
Faus had to take care of himself, he paused briefly and asked. “With what people?”
“The people— Stars, Agatha, where did you find an idiot like this? He doesn’t even know how much shit they would take.”
However, Agatha said nothing. She looked at him, if deeply, that bringing him here was a mistake.
Faus raised a finger and pointed to her. “To start any war you need a reason, and perhaps the best one sitting at this table is going to run away.”
Agatha looked angered. “Watch your tone Fritz I’ve lost—“
“Lost? So has everyone else, so could everyone else.” He leered, “You don’t know everything people put value in.”
“A child! You know nothing of losing one! My children! My loves!” Agatha roared, stunning everyone but Faus.
“And do you think anyone else outside this room cares?” She was taken slightly aback. A knowing truth, as her own guards felt struck by it most. By their deformities— they all only had, and knew one love in this life, their mother. “I won’t disparage you, you’re the most selfless mother to ever walk this earth, but,” He turned to Raina. “Who gives even a rat’s ass for the people living here? Mmmmm?” Raina was stricken next, “No one.”
He went on, his voice gaining his old cutthroat tone. “If you think even for a moment that other people would go out of their way, to raise their arms and put to sacrifice what they hold dear against overwhelming wealth, weapons, and status, for some poor, disgusting, criminal’s mercy then you would quite literally be dead wrong.”
“We aren’t criminals.” Raina protested.
“Oh? Prove it.”
“Because we are.” She stated the truth.
Faus scoffed, “Not a whole lot of proof when the guillotine is coming down your neck… Are you really that naive? Do you not know how the slums are perceived— as a criminal hideout— though we know the truth, they don’t know.”
“And just who are they, to you?”
“The people? Why would they rebel if it's just cause.” His tone went dramatic, ““I am purging the dark corners of our city so that our children, streets, and businesses can live under the night sky unmolested. To protect all is what we hold dear, and with this new land, we will live in freedom from the tyranny that hides from the light.”” Faus partially a rage that never truly died, every Stars damn speaker for the crown his crew happily shut up, it brought him a sense of irony that those words did the same to Raina, to all of them. “No one is coming for this fight, it will end here and no one will remember it as they tell their children the good news that this place is being fixed up and repaired for new friends to come.”
Silence loomed upon the room. The guards were having a harder time than even Raina, she was sulking, struck at the heart of insignificant resolve. In some form, they all were, though they did try to hide it. Their hands and lips shaking, their eyes unfocused, looking far.
Agatha tried to bore through him, a knowing look spoke all he needed. There was no protest, Raina and Stone were left to contemplate, but only she had the instinct; the knowledge of seeing through his words.
“I will not be the one to start it.” Agatha spoke, her voice calm and unwavering. “Nor will I be here to see it through. I have my children, and I will care for them till the end of my days.”
There wasn’t an ounce in the thoughts before, but this— Agatha, was the only one who appeared to have any conviction. But only for a single thought, in the care of what a mother should do.
Faus didn’t smile. The look he would have given would’ve made his thoughts appear far too old to what he was.
But he closed his eyes and nodded. Small bounces, in peace, and in mind.
“I wish you well, Agatha. To all your children,” He said. Gaining a questioning look… perhaps he overplayed his age. “I would still like those names, and any word of the on goings.”
“Why?” She asked, “What was she to you?”
“A child.” Faus simply stated. “I will not breathe the same air as those who would kill a child so mercilessly. Give me their names, so I can breathe again.”
Raina shivered.
This all, far flung to what he assumed Agatha meant by the meeting. Her hands brought up to massage her head. Shaking in disapproval but, “Alright. You’ll have them in time.” Faus smiled, “But! You’ll have to promise that you will do nothing of consequence before we are set out on our own.”
He nodded. “I can agree to that.”
“It won’t be easy Fritz, the signs point to the guards doing it.” Raina whipped her head with wide eyes. “How are you going to manage it?” Agatha asked, almost hopeful.
Faus smiled, he slowly revealed one of his nicer hidden daggers. The guards and Stone tensed up slightly.
Raina just scoffed, “And what are you going to do with that shit of a blade against their armor?”
His smile grew wider. It might not be as smooth as a Spell, but it would be better than rousing more suspicions.
Faus aligned point of the blade directly upon the table. Concentrating until a soft blue hue enveloped the dagger. He pushed with a grunt, piercing through— pulling back the edge snagged in parts leaving a cut nearly to the edge of the table before he had to wiggle it out.
“Just need a little more practice.” Faus finished off, to the room gapping at him.
Though the times may have changed for the worse in part, he reveled in their shining eyes; the reflection of proof amidst hope within his promise. That he would be damned should he fail to uphold.