Chapter 17 the Temple of Amaret.

The pious are often misguided

The faithless are often mistreated

The pure often suffer

Maybe you should ask yourselves why, my children.

Amaret, the Great Sinner.

“Waky waky!” The voice belonged to the insufferable half-dragon. I jerk up in alarm, my hands are bound to the wall behind me. These are iron chains, not something I can free myself from.

What's going on?! Did she win?!

I open my eyes. In the dim light of the cell I see that like me, the ebony-skinned girl is tied up by her hands to the wall behind her, and the iron chains rattle with her movement.

Wait, how did she get her hands back?!

Noticing it make me realize that the pain in my face, throat, and lungs is gone. I've been fully healed, except, my hands are pulled up and tied to the wall behind me with a pair of iron cuffs that keep me standing.

The strain on my hands and wrists is painful and supporting myself with my legs only mitigates half of it. Worse, I need to take care of my needs, and the cell doesn’t have anything resembling a toilet, not even a chamber pot. If anything, the smell coming from the other woman tells me she did it on herself.

“Marisha was your name? I am curious Marisha, you're fae, how did you resist my charm?” The other woman doesn’t seem to be bothered by the feces covering her legs. Or maybe it was not her first time in such a cell.

The answer stands on the tip of my tongue but I don’t let it out, “I have my secrets…” I reply instead. Keeping an air of mystery around me will be more useful. People fear things they don’t know, and when it comes to this woman, I'd prefer if she feared me.

“So, ‘Lumina kinetic burst’ huh?” She muses. “By the hidden monarchs you’re a fucking idiot. How many of your fingers did you blow up with that stupid cantrip? You do know they won't heal the damage you do to yourself right?” She laughs mockingly, “Of course you didn't. They aren't exactly forthcoming when it comes to information. I hope you blew your cursed hand off! You're as crazy as Mayan, unstable cantrips are labeled as such because of how harmful they are to the caster! Who even learns how to cast such a damned thing?!”

The annoyance in her voice brings me joy. I open and clenched my hands. The only finger missing is my right middle finger, but I've gotten used to that feeling. And she's right, they didn't heal it despite healing both of her hands. What was the point of causing her permanent damage then? This thought is frustrating.

“How long are we going to stay here?” I ask, ignoring her ridicule.

“Till the next punishment hour. It happens every Topday (Sunday) we got lucky because that's today,” she replies cheerfully.

“What does punishment hour mean?” I ask worriedly.

“Every week, there's a punishment hour. Apprentices who do something wrong are being thrown in these cells together. Then, the punishment hour arrives…” She giggles “The followers of Amaret take us out and punish us. Ahhh… I can’t wait!” Her voice is filled with anticipation. That doesn’t bode well…

“And what are they going to do to us?”

“Us? It was just a brawl, they'll whip us and let us go. It’s fun, you just have to give in and… actually, I don’t have to teach you that do I? It’s not like you haven't been whipped as a neophyte.”

“Is it possible to exchange lashes with gems like we did as neophytes?”

“Oh precious! You are one of those uh?”

“One of what?”

“People who don’t like pain!” she declares, victorious.

I shrug as much as the chains allow me to, pretending I don't care. There is no need to give this insane woman any weaknesses she could exploit.

She giggles maniacally. “Only three kinds of people survive in this tower. Those who love pain like me. Those who are numb to pain and can brave through it. Or the ruthless maniacs who manage to avoid it by sheer talent. By the hidden monarchs precious, this place will eat you alive!” She bursts into a maniacal laughter, echoing wildly within the cell.

If anything of what this madwoman says is true… I think I’m the second type… apathy saved me through many hardships… I’ll keep sticking to it…

The sound of a metallic key unlocking the cell cuts her laughter short. The door opens, shedding some light into the small cell. A burly man wearing cyan robes enters, he has dark skin and a bald head.

He releases Oshi from the wall and takes her with him, leaving me alone in the darkness and the stink she left behind.

Time crawls slowly, and fighting to hold my basic needs in doesn’t make it easier. After a time that feels like an eternity the cyan-robed man comes back. He unlocks the iron cuffs that are binding me to the wall. I drop to the ground with a gasp. I had to stand on my toes so my wrists won't hurt, and even that didn't help.

“Come with me,” he orders calmly.

I follow him through a long narrow hallway staring at the red scorpion symbol on his back. He leads me to a dim hall near the cell. Unlike the rest of the tower, the color of the gem wall and floor here is cyan, not blue.

The man leads me toward an altar near a large colored statue depicting an old man with a long white beard.

The stone man wears a crown of thorns, and thorny vines cover his naked body, prickling his skin. The blood dripping down is painted deep red, while his inhuman skin takes a cyan color. The man has an expression of slight agony as if the thorns are merely an annoyance to him instead of hurting him. This is Amaret, god of pain and atonement.

Below the statue's feet, there’s an altar, with two iron cuffs on it. “Take off your robes and lay on the altar face down.” The man in cyan order firmly.

“Can't I pay you instead of these lashes?” I ask. My voice sounding more fragile than I feel.

Amaret and his followers hold the weird belief that pain cleanses a person of sin, that no matter how bad your dark deeds are, if you put yourself through enough pain - it's all forgiven.

Two types of people are attracted to this disgusting and twisted religion; the sadistic or masochistic people who enjoy pain. And the do-gooders, the kind of people who are so paranoid about their wrongdoing that they look for an easy way to fix their misdeeds.

“You're not a neophyte, this is no longer allowed. Take off your robes and lay on the altar, I will not repeat myself!” He replies coldly.

“If I have to take off my clothes I request that a woman will do the whipping,” I continue. Aside from my stated obvious reason, a woman's hand should be weaker, maybe it'll be less painful. Unless it's a female orc...

“Request denied, you don't have such privileges. If you continue to delay I'll increase the number of lashes! Now take off your robes and lay on the altar! Facedown!”

With my heart pounding I take off my robes as slowly as I can without it being too obvious. I know I have no way out. I keep my pants on and bend forward on the altar. I expect him to tell me to take my pants off too or to touch me in some perverse manner, but he doesn’t. He ties up my hands before he speaks with a harsh tone.

“Pray to Amaret for he may forgive your sins!”

*Woosh!* it feels like a line of molten metal formed on my back causing me to scream. “What sin?! I didn't do any…” *Woosh!!* “I was defending myself why…” *Whoosh!* his strikes get stronger the more I protest, I decide to keep my mouth shut and just take it. Apathy… it’ll be over soon… none of it is real anyway…

After twenty lashes that feel like a hundred, he stops. “Now, pray to Amaret!”

“I don't worship Amaret” I reply coldly. This is the one thing I promised my mother, I will never pray to the gods. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what! It's the only thing I have left of her.

*Woosh!* another lash, another painful scream. “Pray! That he may forgive you!”

“I won't! You can whip me until I die but I won't pray to your sadistic sick god!“

And he does that, he keeps whipping me and demanding that I pray. I shut reality off, it isn’t real, none of it is real. Just like the times the soldiers and slavers toyed with my body, just like the death room, none of it is real… none of it matters.

“Stop.” The heavy bass voice wakes me up from my daze. “Choke on your fangs you fat snake! How many times do I hafe to tell you, you aren't whipping anyone more than their quota!”

“But-but your honor! She refused to acknowledge the almighty Amaret! She- she even dared called the god sadistic… it's blasphemy!”

“Ha! Hahahahaha! You hafe guts bitch!” a callused hand pats my wounded back causing me to grit my teeth.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Maybe I have guts, but I was utterly stupid now. I should've just prayed to his sadistic god and be done with that crap… probably the pain and the disconnection from reality muddled my judgment… and I'd hate to shame my mother, that's the only principality she did care for.

I can't remember how many times she told me to never pray to any god no matter what... That’s pretty much all I remember from her… I can barely even remember her face… only her red hair… and her eyes… her EYES! The brief image of a pair of eerie glowing lights flashes through my head before it fades. Now I can’t conjure the picture back to memory. What was wrong with her eyes? Why did they look like that? Why can’t I focus on how they looked?!

“How many lashes did she get abofe her quota?” The bass voice asks the other priest.

“Nineteen…”

The shackles open and the callused hand helps me stand. He shoves a robe against my chest to cover it. “You're going to receife thirty-eight tonight, two for each lash she didn't deserfe. You can't force another to atone for their sins you fool! It's their choice whether to atone or not. This tower is corrupting you, most of the people here may deserfe their punishment by local law. But not by monarchy laws, nor the honorable laws of Noxi. If I see something like that happening again I'll send you off to the Axero temple!”

“Yes your honor! I'm sorry! I'll reflect upon my actions! I’ll atone for my sins!” the man who whipped me earlier is now kneeling and crying, slamming his head against the ground over and over.

“Don't apologize to me! Apologize to the bitch here!” the callous man pats my shoulder, gently this time.

“I'm sorry!” there is a mix of zealous hatred and regret in the priest's eyes. It wasn't smart to make such a zealot my enemy.

“Hahaha that's more like it, what do you say bitch?”

Bitch? Really?! Couldn't he find a nicer name?! “My name is Marisha, I'm not your bitch!” What the hell am I even saying? Can't I keep my mouth shut till I'm out of here?! The pain is messing with my head…

The tall man throws his head back and laughs loudly. He has dark green skin and two rows of shark-like teeth. “I really like you bitch!”

I shrug and grimace in pain from the casual movement. Protesting again won't change anything, he can call me whatever he wants. “Why are you calling me that?” I ask instead. Why does it bother me so much?! Why am I acting like a child? Let him call me whatever he likes, I'll be out of here soon, need to get a healing potion for my back… and I need to pee…

“Because you're a bitch!” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Whatever. Not like I can change his opinion of me anyway… I shrug and wince in pain again. I really need to stop moving my shoulders...

The tall orc takes me to the side. He snatches the robes out of my hands and begins bandaging my torso with wet bandages. From the smell I can tell that they’re soaked in some kind of herbal medicine. He pushes my hands aside in annoyance when I attempt to cover my chest. “I'fe seen plenty of tits bitch, let me do my work.”

With a sigh, I attempt to ignore him. Why does it bother me so much? It's not like I've never been naked near men… Maybe gaining some autonomy for the past nine months… it’s been almost a year since I had to serve a man like this… I’m starting to gain my dignity back, this is a good thing…

“Next time you come here bitch, you say that Amaret owes you nineteen strokes, we'll prefent you the next nineteen lashes. You're not allowed to magically heal during the course of the next week, no potions or healing magic. Here's a list of how to take care of your wounds, make sure you rest properly.” The orc priest is bored with the explanation. "If the wounds are infected, you come and see me. Ask for Grand Sinner Augrum."

“Thanks!” I take the list, put my robes back on, and turn to leave.

“Owa! Where do you think you're going bitch? This way.” he points the other way, inward toward the temple.

“The exit isn't there?” I ask in confusion, I am usually good at figuring out where to go.

“Oh the exit is there, but you're not allowed to leafe yet, bitch.”

“I thought my punishment was over…” I mumble.

“It is. This is mandatory. Every punished apprentice is to watch the execution of the week, no exceptions. It's that way!” The orc explained.

Right, I have to watch the execution. Probably meant to scare us from killing each other… I'm no stranger to death, just tired of it… whatever…

“Can I use the toilet first?”

*

The orc is kind enough to show me to the temple's bathroom, and then lead me to the execution hall.

This large hall is crowded with people wearing black apprentice robes. I thought I'd see bullying here like with the large groups of neophytes, but there’s no bullying. It’s easy to figure out why no one does it; all of them without exception had just left their cell and had gone through a series of whipping. No one wants to go back to that cell for another week. I'll have to watch for bullying around the weekends...

The other side of the hall has a stage, with a clear crystalline cube on it. A naked woman is inside. she’s trying to break the cube in tears, but her efforts are in vain.

“Why doesn’t she use her magic?” I mumble to myself.

“It’s glass, glass nullifies magic more than iron does,” the fat man at my side replies calmly. “Hello princess, I see you’ve made it.” He grins.

“Beydor?” I haven’t seen him in months. I didn’t need his gems or lessons after I took control over the neophytes.

“The one and only. Any chance I could take you out for a meal? Despite what you may think, I actually care about you…”

I know… Should I go out with him? I could use him for information and his father is well connected… it’d make my life easier…

But will also bring me unwanted attention, and will make me enter the politics between mages… that’s the last thing I need…

Am I even allowed to say no? He can probably use his connections to get what he wants…

Argh… what a pain… “Do you ask if I want to be with you? Or are you telling me that you’re going to use your connections to force me to be with you?” I ask after a long silence.

He grins. “What do you take me for princess? A common bully? I won’t force you. But I will do my very best to convince you otherwise!”

Great… now I’ll have to turn him down for the next few weeks... At least he doesn’t force it… gives me time to maneuver…

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Ugh…

“Ok! I’ll figure it out by myself.”

The hall slowly gets more and more black-robed apprentices. Chatter erupts all around me. Some of it is in languages I don’t understand, but others speak Toml’a, my native tongue.

When most of the seats are occupied, a mage with a single gigantic eye in his forehead steps onto the stage with a group of slaves behind him. He wears a set of decorated cyan robes, unlike the priests of Amaret back there; this man's robes look a lot more extravagant.

“Jo te kalphi Safir keno anjenu su kalefni jaka ah!” The man exclaims.

Each of the slaves speaks in turn, each of them in a different language until a young man shouts up in Toml’a. “Here in the sapphire tower, we do not waste resources!”

Once the translation round is over, the man with single eye speaks up again. “Fel sa nok. Shel nu parak kota shul, fel sagaini al montara saira, torfel jesha kota kalefni montara jakafir, nu bello siga nu! Sak appil sa siga kalefni keno montara jakafir!” The one-eyed mage gestures at the naked woman trapped in the glass cube.

Again, a blur of translations in a bunch of different languages are called out from each slave in turn. Until the young man in gray shouts in Toml’a.

“And as such. If you have killed another apprentice, and wasted their valuable life, or caused another waste of valuable resources, you are deemed as trash yourself! This is what happens to trash who have wasted the tower's valuable resources!”

Once the blur of translations is over. The one-eyed mage touches a gem in the wall.

Water flows into the clear cubic cage. The woman inside panics, and her attempts to break the cube turn desperate. In her last moment of defiance she gives up and spits toward the one-eyed mage.

After a minute, the cube is filled up to the brim, and I have to see the process of drowning for the first time in my life. When it finally ends, the lifeless bloated body is left in the crystalline clear cube.

“Gasta oski nuaj su kafil jaka sema, shulaj!” The one-eyed mage declares loudly.

Again, the slaves translate, each in turn. Until the young man in gray shouts. “Make sure you do not end up like her, apprentices!”

And with that they let us go. I join the flow of apprentices heading back to the dorms.

I find my dorm rather fast and lock myself in my room. My back is covered in stripes of sheer pain, I can’t even lay down, and each movement is a torment. Meditating is near impossible, I’d do anything for a healing potion right now!

“Marisha?! Are you alright? I heard you were back!” Janara knocks on my door.

A distraction… good… “I'm fine, thanks” I open the door for her. “They just whipped me…”

“Whipped?! Are you alright?! Here have a potion of healing.” She digs the pewter vial from her belt pouch.

I sit on my bed with a sigh. It’s tempting, but I know everything in the tower is recorded. Drinking it will just get me whipped again, and probably a week in that dark cell. “I'm not allowed to drink it, but thanks! I'm ok! Just tired…”

She observes me with a pair of worried green eyes. Once she determines I am truly alright, she speaks up again. “I'm glad you're ok! Come with me! I want to show you where the others live!”

She drags me outside into the hallways and shows me the way to the squire's dorms. It’s a fifteen minutes’ walk between the apprentices’ dorms and the squire dorms. And their dorms are similar to ours, same long hallway with doors, each leading to five rooms with shared facilities.

Only now by peering into half-open doors, I notice that these are separated by gender. Men on the left, and women on the right.

“Purson?” Janara knocks on a half-open door.

He and Kolag show up. “Marisha!” Kolag calls out, clearly happy to see me. “I heard you were taken by the temple of Amaret, are you alright?”

“I’m fine thanks, they whipped me. I’ll be able to drink a potion in a week.”

“Whipped?” Kolag’s voice is livid.

I give him a sarcastic smile. “Pretty normal here if you haven’t noticed.”

“Come in!” Purson says, “you don’t want to stand and talk in the hallway do you?”

“Did you find Lezere yet?” Janara asks.

“Yeah, the orcs get their own sections. She’s inside eating our meat supply…” Purson gesture to the kitchen behind him. We follow him inside to find Lezere wolfing down a plate with grilled meat.

“Hey chief!” She jumps from her meal and gives me a tight hug that makes me grimace.

What did I do to get such a treatment from her? I hug her back weakly. “Good to see you too Lezere…” It doesn’t matter… they’re friends… and they clearly care about me… and I care about them… that’s all that matters…

*~*~*

Power level: 1st stage apprentice.

Mana pools status:

Crown-knot: Affinity 10:

Neck-Bridge: Affinity 6: formed: max amount of gems drained per day: 66

Abdomen-storage: Affinity 5:

Air: Affinity 4:

Fire: Affinity 2: open: 4 gems

Light: Affinity 3:

Water: Affinity 6:

Earth: Affinity 1:

Wood: Affinity 2:

Gravity: Affinity 9: formed: 41 gems

Cantrip known:

Fire: Nuriss’ Flame.

Gravity: Lumina’s Kinetic Burst. Tukado’s Repulse. Tukado’s Lesser Shield. Imari’s Minor Telekinesis. Leo’s Pull. Leo’s Grounding. Alino’s Light body. Alino’s Heavy body.

Focus capability: 8 patterns

Social status: An apprentice.

Wealth: 200 gems.

Items: 2 healing potions.

Companions:

Kolag of house Befar

Lezere of the black fang tribe

Janara of Winemaker village.

Purson of Winemaker village.

Injuries and scars: Missing two thirds of the right middle finger. Injured back.