“You! What are you doing here?”
Disgust filled her eyes.
She hated the man before her—no, the word hate was far too light to convey the extent of her feelings. Before she stood a figure who represented everything she hated about the world, about men, about humanity itself. A man so toothless, he stood by as the Kingdom he was soon to rule was filled with inequality and discrimination.
Elena’s question was met with silence on his part. Instead, it was Leila, who, with something of a grin, answered. “As you can tell from the knife I’m pointing to his back, he’s not here willingly.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, rogue,” Charles protested, aiming his eyes toward Leila, “I have come to make amends.”
“Make amends? For what, trying to kidnap me?” Elena said. “Because good luck with THAT!”
“Yes, you are quite perceptive. Truly a woman worthy of my love.”
“Dumbass!” She stepped forward, ready to slap him, but Miles’ arm stopped her in her tracks.
“I understand your frustration, lady Elena,” said Galen, “but after some, uhmmm… pressuring, the prince has agreed to collaborate with our search for our Captain’s sister.”
“Indeed. I believe I can provide information that’ll help you figure out Number 9’s location.”
His explanation only further ignited her. “Seriously? Am I supposed to believe that you, of all people, want to help us save Cordelia? After you broke your promise of letting me go after the ball? I wouldn’t buy a hot dog from you, let alone that bullshit!” She took a breath, as if to calm down, then continued spitting bile. “And her name is Cordelia, by the way. Cor-de-li-a. Use it or consider ending yourself.”
“Miss Elena, please collect yourself!” Galen said, gesturing with his hands to make her lower her volume.
“Shut up. I’m not getting shushed by some walking Uke stereotype,” she growled at the short, effeminate man, baring her fangs.
“U—understood…” Galen whispered, his voice and face losing any and all sense of dignity. He was clearly taken aback by the word he did not know the meaning of.
“Elena,” began to say Miles, placing her hand on her shoulder, “I understand your concern. But he’s the best lead we can get for my sister’s whereabouts.”
“I know, but…”
Elena cast her eyes to the side, her mind running simulations. Her distrust of the crown prince was such that she could not help but worry. Odds were high that he would lead them all into a trap, or instead betray them at a crucial time.
Such was the kind of man that Charles was, a kind that she held nothing but contempt toward.
Reading her concern, Bronson, who had remained silent, flexed his arms and reassured her. “Don’t worry missus. You can count on me to set him straight in case anything does go awry.” He cracked his knuckles.
“If I do indeed mislead you, I will accept any punishment you ghoulish criminals deem appropriate,” Charles swore. “I myself have interest in aiding you, anyway.”
Elena tilted her head, burrowing her brows. “What could you get out of helping us? You’re already a prince, you already have everything and nothing to gain. If you expect me to reconsider your marriage proposal in exchange for this, then you can shove—”
“I want to walk my own path,” he interrupted. “One different from that the Kingdom’s built for me. Perhaps this is childish, but I believe even a small act of rebellion would be plenty to set me down the correct road.”
“Oh, give me a break.” Elena was getting fed up of his shtick.
“Besides,” chimed in Leila, throwing her hands up, “having the prince as a hostage could be of great benefit to us if we were to go against the Royal Guard. So long as we’re careful, I believe he’ll be a great asset.”
“Leila, aren’t you supposed to be the serious, mature one of this crew? Why are you going along with this insanity?”
“Listen kid,” Leila said, placing a hand on her own hip, her eyes calm, “so long as we have our mind set on saving this girl, we’re facing an uphill battle no matter what. You got any idea where she is?”
“No,” Elena admitted, scratching the back of her neck.
“Then we gotta take anything we can get. Any measure of caution went out the window the moment we agreed upon doing this, anyway.”
Leila had a point. So long as they yearned to save Cordelia, risk was inevitable. They had to play the cards they’d been lucky to draw, even if it meant feeling uneasy.
“But are you all really willing to risk your lives on sketchy information?” Elena asked.
Saving Cordelia was her responsibility, an oath belonging only to her. If anyone should risk their life, it was her, especially when her ability meant it was not a risk.
“It’s true we could end up squashed like rats if something goes wrong,” Bronson said, “But finding Miles’ little sister has been one of our goals for as long as he’s been Captain… we cannot abandon her now. Not when we finally know she’s alive.”
As Bronson gave his explanation, his arms motioned wildly, generating an aura of pride that filled the air. There was a fire to his eyes that was shared by all the other members of the crew, who too raised their arms without missing a beat. Such was the comradery they all shared, one so intense it led them all to stand together, willing to come face-to-face with danger for the sake of bringing Miles’ wish to life.
“Everyone, thank you…” said Miles, wearing an expression that said it all. It was one that Elena had seen a couple of times, reserved for when his emotions ran deep and true.
“Very well,” Elena said, straightening her posture. “But if he steps out of line, I’m killing him myself,” she added. Her tone implied she was joking, but the glare she directed at Charles spoke the complete opposite.
“Now, spit out all you know,” Miles ordered, drawing his blade.
“Well…”
----------------------------------------
Her heart wanted to leap out, to escape her body, which had turned cold. Knots had formed on her stomach. She bit hard into her lower lip, as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing.
Well, make sense was perhaps not the most accurate term. As what she’d just learned was perfectly in line with the lofty expectations she had of this Kingdom. But even so, she wanted to erase this information from her mind, as to acknowledge it as a truth would be too crushing.
Reacting to the dismay that visibly flowed through Elena, Leila reassured, “If she was only taken there two days ago, there’s a good chance she’s still alive. She’s young and can work.” Her words proved enough to reignite some hope within Elena, who clenched her fist with determination.
“My parents told me some rumors about this Thales fella,” added Bronson, who was native to the Capital. “That he had a knack for young maidens. Do you think he might protect her?”
Charles, the target of his question, answered. “Yes, Sir Thales always seemed fond of Number 9. In fact, he pleaded with my father to forgive her for casting magic in the middle of town. But after she attempted to heal Elena, even he had no choice but to take her away from the Palace.”
“No choice, you say?” Elena asked.
“Pretty much. This is the standard punishment for those who go against the Goddess’ Decree, and—”
“SHUT UP!” She yelled, hoping her scream would shatter the prince’s bones. “You can shove your Goddess’ orders up your ass. Can you not see the depravity your Kingdom is guilty of?”
As punishment for using magic, Cordelia had been relocated to an underground bunker, built to contain Marked prisoners. There, they were forced to work to the bone—until they could no more, at which point they were sentenced to death.
“Depravity? Before, those guilty of using Magic were simply hanged. Nowadays, we allow them to at least be useful to us before death. If they’re going to be executed anyway, don’t you believe this is more proper? For their lives to provide worth until the end?”
“Don’t speak of death…”
Shutting her eyes so tears wouldn’t leak, she gave that whisper as her only response. Despite being too faint to hear, everyone else went silent.
“Don’t speak of death!” she repeated, now yelling. Her now-open eyes burned, seeking to plunge the target of their hatred into hellfire. “Don’t speak as if you know it. All those poor people, forced to spend their last days in despair and pain… that is scarier than any rope could ever be!”
Elena, who knew death with unnatural intimacy, understood the difference between life and death, and which of those concepts she feared the most. When her mind pictured the horrors these underground camps could contain, death was the least of her concerns. For death was at least calm, pleasant, devoid of pain. As painful as it’d be, Elena’s mind could withstand Cordelia being dead. Yes, she would grieve she could maybe come to grips with that.
But life? It was life that held worse horrors.
Was Cordelia being tortured? Was she forced to starve, going insane in the process? Worst of all, had someone tried to take advantage of her? Such were the fates that societies shaped by cruelty reserved for those lowest in the ladder.
No matter how dreadful, so long as she couldn’t confirm nor deny any of those possibilities, Elena had to acknowledge them as possible, and that made her very soul shiver.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
As Elena began wailing, Leila came up to her and pulled her body into a hug. Meanwhile, Miles, who wore a stern face, continued the interrogation.
“You sicken me,” Miles said. “You really believe such measures come from a place of humanity?”
“Why else would we? Hanging is as simple as efficient as an execution gets. What other reason is there to prolong a murder?”
“You read history books. You should know what happened with dead Marked bodies around fifty years ago,” Miles said, matter-of-fact.
At his words, Charles tensed up, gulping. “You are not saying…”
“Does the crown prince really not know such a basic fact?” said Galen. “Even I, hailing from Eternasia where the practice is long-banned, am aware of the prominence of Ashes Gathering in the Kingdom.”
Elena, who’d been absent from the conversation, paused her sobbing and lit up at the unfamiliar term.“What is that?”
“I’m assuming my lady is aware of Mana, correct?” Galen asked.
“The thing those Crystals use?”
“Correct! Historically, Mana was always harvested from the Earth, and then used to build Magic Crystals, which are then used to power devices. It is said the energy comes from dead humans and animals. However, in recent years, some insane scientist from the Meritocracy discovered a way to farm Mana from living Marked. It was given the name of Ashes Gathering, as it requires cremating the targets. The results are much more efficient than the old-fashioned way, but it kills the victims in the process.
Galen gave his lecture completely straight-faced; in contrast to Elena, whose horror only grew as he said every word.
“Hold on. Are you accusing my father and my country of carrying an illegal practice? That is impossible!”
“Why else would they hide their activities under the earth?” Miles retorted.
Charles was left with no counter-argument. This was knowledge that books had not provided him with.
“The Kingdom’s always been lacking in Mana compared to other countries. You can tell when my father has been using his carriage a lot because he starts complaining about the price of Wind Crystals,” said Bronson. “Wouldn’t shock me if those bastards looked into alternative means of obtaining Mana.”
With crossed arms, Elena then asked, “So you’re saying that this is all so they can get… fuel, basically?” She lifted an eyebrow as she phrased her question.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Leila said, nonchalantly. “Some years ago, some big businesses got into conflict with Luzterna’s government due to the scarcity of Mana.”
“Of fucking course.”
It was just so typical. Even in this world, human greed led to death and suffering. She rolled her eyes a bit, groaning at how on-the-nose this entire set-up was—it being for the sake of fuel of all things only further reinforcing the point.
After a long, long breath, Miles spoke, authority contained within his voice. “But as Leila said earlier, her being young and able means she’s likely still alive. So before the worst comes to pass, we must make a plan of attack.”
Everyone nodded, in agreement. Except for Charles, that is, who cast his sight downward, wearing the look of a beaten puppy. This caught Elena’s attention. She observed with curious eyes, but then shook off that sudden, fleeting feeling.
Perhaps he was pondering if all he’d been told was a lie, if he was complicit with atrocities he had no way to justify.
Regardless, there was no place within her for any shred of sympathy toward his kind.
For Elena to hold so much as even a glimmer of hope that he might change his ways… that was a fault with her, a fault that needed to be corrected.
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“Are you sure you want to use this? Won’t your parents get in trouble?”
At Miles’s overly-cautious question, Bronson casually replied, “Don’t worry mate, I’ve got the police routes memorized. I’ll make sure to drive where nobody will spot us. ”
“Just made sure to cover your face, Mr. Breaking-into-state-sponsored-events,” Leila advised to Miles in a teasing tone.
The large vehicle belonged to Bronson’s family, and it was often used to deliver food around town. As was typical of this world, its exterior resembled that of a carriage, while the inside was like a modern truck, with similar seating arrangements: two seats at the front, and a large one at the back. It also featured a trunk at the back.
“Wait a moment,” Charles said, “There are six of us. How are we going to fit in?”
“It’s very simple,” Bronson answered. “You see how you can carry baggage on the trunk? You could even fit a prisoner in there.”
“Yes? I don’t follow.”
Miles and Bronson exchanged looks of understanding.
Immediately afterward, they shoved Charles into the trunk, to the sound of his complaining.
----------------------------------------
Following Charles’ instructions, Bronson drove across the Luzternan countryside. According to the prince, the camp Thales supervised was a few dozen kilometers away from the capital city, hidden underneath the earth.
Bronson and Leila, who knew the area deepest, sat at the front. At the back, Miles and Elena sat at the edges by the doors, with Galen right in the middle.
This fricking guy.
Before getting in, Elena hoped to sit next to Miles, perhaps resting her head on his shoulder. Instead, she acted too slow and Galen entered before her. Thus, she instead placed her head on the windowsill; a bad idea, as it hurt every time they hit a bump.
Meanwhile, a conversation took place in the seats before her. “Are you sure we got the location right?” Leila asked.
“Well, no. His instructions were… pretty vague. But a large meadow with zinnias on the outskirts of the city can only refer to Tumba de Beatriz.”
“What’s that?” Elena asked, intrigued by the Spanish name.
“It’s one of the many meadows found along Route 40.”
Leaving the city of Catella in most cardinal directions led to either sea or to forbidden land. But to the southeast, on Route 40, the Kingdom’s most important trade route, it was possible to appreciate the beauty of the country’s many colors.
It is said that, to incentivize trade between the towns bordering the southern coast, the Goddess orchestrated a project to plant a wide variety of flowers all along Route 5. Some historians cast doubt on this theory, but in any case, it results in a journey filled with the diverse colors of sunflowers, marigolds, and, most relevant to them, zinnias.
The group arrived at Tumba de Beatriz, getting off the carriage (except for Charles, who remained trapped in the trunk). A swath of zinnias bathing in the sunlight received them. Most wore vibrant pinks and oranges for their petals. But there were a shocking amount of dead flowers mixed in, tarnishing the overall picture with their uncanny brown roots. It felt both unnerving and appropriate, as if they foretold the ugly secret that hid underneath the picturesque landscape.
“So, what do we do now? Do we just… dig a hole?” Elena asked.
“That is unfeasible,” responded Miles, taking her suggestion far more seriously than she’d meant it to be. “The Kingdom uses an advanced mechanism to prevent intruders from reaching their camps.”
Galen, sitting next to him, added, “We don’t fully comprehend how they function, but we believe they use machines powered by Earth Crystals to allow entrance to the depths below.”
“Hmm, I see…” As Elena began to ponder their situation, her eyes became fixated on something to her right. “Over there! Look!”
Fortune was on their side—and not on that of the people who were approaching them.
Like a caravan, a line of people strolled the grassy plains. Among their ranks were men young and old, as well as women and children. Most wore nothing but plain, brown robes that barely fit them; others, most often female, walked in the nude. The only exception were a group of young men, whose attire consisted of military uniforms.
The Dead Sea Pirates, moving as one, all hid behind a nearby tree. Elena took a moment to realize, standing alone foolishly, but followed along upon realizing.
“It can’t be… this is where they bring the Marked sentenced to death!” Elena exclaimed.
“So Charles was right,” remarked Galen.
But the question still remained. Where was the entrance to the supposed bunker?
The answer came immediately.
A brittle yet noticeable earthquake broke the tranquil aura of the environment. The Zinnias refused to remain stationary, and began to hop along to the earth’s vibration. A large area then was left without flowers, occupied only by the green of grass—and there, a large hole appeared.
Like a lid being removed from a jar, a piece of soft earth began to float in the air, revealing a staircase that led downward. The soldiers instructed their prisoners to descend down the flight of stairs, to the sound of much protest.
“This is our chance. Let’s go!” said Elena.
Before she could run off, Leila reprimanded her. “Hold on. We can’t just go there guns-blazing. We’ll alert everyone that way.”
“But we have no choice! Who knows when else will that entrance show up again!” Elena complained.
“Leila’s right. We must make use of the element of surprise,” said Miles.
“But…” She sighed, having Miles of all people be the one to shoot her down.
“Bronson and I will try to look into ways to make it inside,” spoke Miles further. “You three interrogate Charles some more. He might be hiding some hints.”
“Psst, you don’t have to ask,” said Leila, smugly.
The group continued talking, but their voices bounced off Elena’s ears. Her eyes became fixated on the poor prisoners, who were pushed by way of blade to march to their deaths. She felt as if she could read all of their minds, as if she could taste the dread over what their future would entail.
Each of them were a person. Each of them, had a change of being tortured, of being killed.
The longer they stood around, the better the odds that every single person she could see would lose their lives.
But in the name of maximizing success, that was a necessary risk. It was the proper course of action, as to strike recklessly could result in not only the deaths of the prisoners, but also in the death of Miles, of Bronson, Leila, Galen, and yes, even in the death of Prince Charles himself.
Thus, she had to make do with staring from afar, powerless to do more.
That was the proper, cautious thing to do.
And then, her sight would prevent her from doing the proper, cautious thing to do.
It was too far to make out properly, but her eyes would need to be shameless liars to make up such a thrilling vista from nothing.
A young girl of silver hair, whose steps lacked assuredness.
She couldn’t confirm her identity from that distance. But it still proved enough. For any and all caution to be thrown out the window.
“I’ll go!”
To her bold declaration, the entire team reacted with shock.
Galen gasped. “What?”
“Are you suicidal?” Leila exclaimed.
Elena smirked. “Well, yes, but that’s beside the point.” She thumped her chest, swelling with boldness. “I’ll sneak among the other Marked. Once there, I’ll try to find a way to open the entrance for you guys.”
Although her plan had some solid reasoning, it still proved unnerving to her companions. To Miles especially.
“Elena… if you do this, I won’t be able to protect you. You realize you could die, right?”
“You don’t have to worry,” Elena said. She paused, searching for words worthy of following. The search proved unfruitful, as Elena could not justify her seemingly random burst of confidence.
In truth, her bravado was no more than an act. She deemed herself unworthy of wielding courage, as she knew that was a quality she lacked. But what she did possess, was a special ability unique to her, one that allowed her to circumvent death itself.
For normal humans, fear of death is what prevents them from performing dangerous deeds. If she was a normal human, the possibility of dying would cause her to hesitate, and make her reconsider her quest to save Cordelia.
For better or for worse, she was not a normal human. Her ability to be so had been stripped off her the moment she arrived on this world.
Nothing then, could ever stop her.
“You can count on me! If these bastards want me dead, then I’ll make sure to live. I’ll remain a thorn in their side until you can come and rescue me!”
With those words, Elena expressed her conviction. She could not explain her powers, but she hoped the light shining from her eyes would prove enough to convince him.
“You will rescue me, won’t you?” she said, teasingly.
She would save Cordelia, and Miles would save her. That was the way her relationship with both siblings worked. And she liked it that way.
With a tired sigh, Miles could not help but raise his fist, bow his head, and respond, “Yes. I will save you. That’s a promise.”
His earnest expression. The warmth of his voice. Elena could lose herself in those golden eyes for hours, swimming in their sweet caramel. But at that moment, he was not her utmost priority.
Right now, saving the girl she so deeply esteemed was all that mattered.
With a quick weave to the rest of the group, Elena dashed madly across the plains.