The metallic taste of blood woke him first, along with the sensation of a finger being roughly drawn across his mouth. Out of the corner of his eyes he could make out two beings standing to his sides, raising him up. A third shape in front, a hooded figure he instinctually recognized as human, was the one supporting his head with one hand. As he recognized this, the mans other hand lowered to dip a finger into the second of the blood bowls on the belt around his tunic, the rim a fiery red. With a fluid practiced motion the hooded man drew something on his brow, the heavy liquid beginning to trickle out of its form momentarily before the suffocating heat dried it out.
The hooded man leaned closer for a moment and said clearly, "Welcome home brother. Until you earn a name, you are one of us. Die proud." He then turned and walked away, the long flowing white and red robe fluttering in the dusty wind. The two other men held him up for a moment before letting go.
His gaze remained steady, the blood trickling down his jowl, without the presence of mind to even clean it up or lick it away. His eyes unconsciously taking in the scene around him, neatly aligned columns of figures with dusky red skin stretching as far as the eye could see. A vague sense of kinship stirred him, a connection to the idea of humanity.
Some, the ones the men in long flowing white robes had already passed by, were on their feet facing towards the raised stage in the center of the natural auditorium. The rest of his fellows still lay spreadeagled in the dust as if puppets bereft of a puppeteer waiting to be given a purpose.
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After an strangely short period of time, he heard the clamor of horns/ trumpets from the stage. As one, every man in the lines snapped their eyes to the front, their attention snapping onto the only man visible, dressed similarly to the hooded man before. This one however, had gold and gleaming silver plates strapped to him and a red circlet upon his head. His voice echoed out, amplified to an incredible level by the natural acoustics.
"Children of mine, welcome home. I am Tesh, ninth to ascend to the throne, twentieth to emerge from the pits of Kyen, and I will be the first to see the world kneel. And you, you will make it so."
"When you have fully awoken and been educated, you will remember these words and know the honor I do speaking to you today. For now, you have been anointed with my blood, and you have tasted the blood of our enemies. Until the end of time, as long as the ground burns and the earth moves, until all of the empires' enemies are scoured from the face of the earth, until you have given your last breath in service, you belong to me and this land. Whether as slaves, warriors, bureaucrats, food. .. all will kneel, all will serve. Do not disappoint me."
The silence after he finished speaking was deafening, the sheer magnetism of the man demanding there be applause, an uproars from the crowd, and yet the men arrayed before him were absolutely still. In the wave of silence came small peaks of sound. The shuffling of feet as the men were led out, the murmurs as orders were issued. Yet loudest of all were the cries and moans of the enemy prisoners being bled dry on the crucifixes against the mountainside. Soon those cries were all that was left, as the mass of men disappeared into the darkness of the caverns, descending into the heart of the earth.