The people of this world distinguished themselves with their names and origin, all things gotten from the past. For nameless soul like her, she had no origin or past… she just was. That was all there was to her life. And she was satisfied with that.

She took to calling herself Vi at some point, maybe to have a memory to cling on as everything else slowly faded from her mind.

This week, Vi had woken up in the body of a human slave called Rikha. She was pale and skinny, malnourished and dirty, but she had a job to do. Vi didn't complain, she only did what was told, but sometimes, she could feel the little aggression at the back of her mind. The need to defy and retaliate. Those emotions were not hers. She couldn't conceive such emotions.

Not even now, when Rikha’s master had slapped her across the cheek and knocked her to the ground.

"Foolish girl!" Her master, Lord Kilten, snarled, "You're so useless! Greatness above, you were supposed to look neat! What do you want Marshal Gimm to think of me? A dirty lord?" He punched the pristine gold painted wall of his lounge hall with a frustrated grunt.The spot cracked but, with only a wave of his hand, it smoothened back to its original state.

She picked herself up from the ground, the sting from the slap already faded to nothing as quick as it came. She wasn't sure she felt much these days. But deep inside her, in a part that wasn't in her control, Rikha burned with rage and contempt. Perhaps for Lord Kilten, perhaps for Vi herself, for not bringing out the emotions burning within. But she couldn't blame Rikha. She had nothing to give except her temporary service to the Great.

The Lord looked Vi–or Rikha–up and down with utter contempt. A vein in his forehead worked along with his jaw, as he perhaps wondered what he would do with her. Then he gave a resigned sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "He'll be coming anytime soon, so I'll have you quickly changed into…" he glanced at her again, "decent clothes.”

With a wave of his hand, a small stool made of rocks formed itself up from thin air. The magic of the clan of Krylos. Rikha had no magic, which was likely the cause of her enslavement. Though her memories were clouded, Vi was familiar with the foul treatment on humans without magic in Arkos. Rikha was just another fleeting example.

He made her sit on the stool. "I want no stain on my finely polished and clean chairs. Serna!" A maid glided into the hall with practised grace and bowed. "Get her some clothes. Close to the rags she wears but cleaner. You deserve that, at least. I noticed you've been rather… obedient this week. That is good, though it doesn't make you any less the foolish girl you are. Some clean clothes would do, Serna." The maid bowed again and glided away without a single word uttered from her.

She looked up at the lord with her vision that tinged the world with grey. But perhaps that was how the world was. Dull and bland, perhaps on par with her very existence.

Tall and broad was the lord, with golden locks and beards. Neat and donned in smooth clothes with golden braids that probably cost more than the wages of all the servants in the manor combined. An otherworldly contrast to Rikha's short height and stringy dirty black hair, with dirty rags for clothes. He was a ruthless man, but he also had people he humbled himself to. Like Lord Marshal Gimm. Perhaps this was the first time he had ever "complimented" Rikha for her obedience. Almost a shame to know that next week, she'd be returning back to her supposedly disobedient self.

He stroked his beards and spun on his heels towards the massive doors of the hall. "Honestly, I don't know what the Marshal sees in you," he said, more to himself than to her. "But so long as that means he'll be glad to visit anytime, I'm in no place to complain. A man of odd tastes, that Marshal. You should be grateful. He says you remind him of why he married his wife, though I fail to grasp the meaning behind those words.”

To Vi, it was more like Marshal Gimm saw Rikha as an ornament that interested him. If he were to succeed in claiming this ornament while she was still in control, she would not resist. She knew to be obedient. Defiance only brought ruin.

The maid came back soon after, holding a brown cloth in her hand. Looked much like Vi's clothes, just cleaner and a bit newer. She beckoned Vi to follow her so she could get changed. And some few minutes later, she was dressed in pretty much the same dress but without the stains and tears.

"Good," the High Lord of House Treg nodded in approval. "Good, now sit on the stool and wait. He shall arrive soon." He spun about and went towards the corridor, raising his arms as he yelled into it. "What is the delay with you all?! Out with the refreshments already! Why are you all so slow, Greatness help me?!”

As if they had been waiting to be yelled at, the servants poured into the lounge hall with all manner of assortments on trays in their hands, looking like they could trip over each other what with the nervous faces they all carried. No one wanted to be fired. Although they also suffered, Vi knew, from a maid who was Rikha's friend, the servants received decent payment. Unlike the slaves. Unlike Rikha.

With the quick movements of the nervous servants, the whole golden tables of the hall were soon filled up with different varieties of fruits, wine, berries and nuts. Lord Kilten watched everything, smiling under his thick beards like a greedy thief whose plots were going perfectly. Perhaps it was just that, Vi reckoned. They were then left in the large hall, waiting for a guest that was perhaps fond of late arrivals.

The High Lord didn't seem like a man used to waiting, though. He paced around, occasionally rubbing his beards, would sit on one of his plush red and gold laced couches, stand up and continue to pace again, eyes always glancing towards the double doors at the far end. It went like that for what may have been half an hour until the doors started to slowly open, and through them walked a tall, broad shouldered and regal looking man.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He wore sharp cut clothes, pressed to a rigid perfection much like his build. His face donned ferocity and looked nothing short of a military master of one of the most powerful Houses in Central Arkos. Lord Marshal Avirod Gimm. This man was no joke. Not even in the slightest bit.

The seething anger and slight fear welling in Rikha's heart was proof of that.

Behind him poured in guards. Vi occasionally saw the High Lord escorted around by some guards. The guards were usually few in number. But, in this case, it was different.

Lord Gimm’s guards numbered more than twenty, all huge sturdy men covered from head to toes in huge sturdy armour and armed to the teeth. It looked more like the arrival of death itself, rather than a visit from a highly important man. Maybe there was never much difference to it.

It seemed Lord Kilten could see it too for he became even more nervous than he had been when the doors swung open. "M-My, Lord Gimm! It is such an honour to have you visit, truly!" And he bowed so low his nose could have brushed the tiled floors.

Vi got up and bowed too. Better to comply than to show arrogance. She always knew that.

There was silence from the Lord Marshal. She couldn't quite see his face with the position she was in, but she guessed he was gazing down at them with plain nonchalance.

"P-Please! Have a seat, my lord!" Vi stood up straight upon hearing Lord Kilten's voice, decided not to sit back on her stool until their "guest" had sat. It seemed a respectful thing to do.

Marshal Gimm raised a thick eyebrow at the seats implied for him to sit on, shook his head and spoke in the thickest voice Vi had heard this week. "You always were a man of courtesy, Treg. Good to see you haven't changed, even after all the wealth I had bathed you in," he went over to one of the plush seats, the one farthest and directly opposite to where Lord Kilten stood. She didn't know that she had been holding her breath until the Lord Marshal looked at her. And his mouth twisted into something like a smile, a very sinister one at that. "And I see you brought the girl."

The fear and contempt and disgust in Rikha's heart flared so hot, Vi had to put a hand over her chest. There was no way to calm her down, so all she could do was ignore her.

Because even she wanted an end to all this.

Lord Kilten sat down quickly on his own seat, "Why, yes indeed, my lord! I thought her presence might serve as a bit of an…" and he looked between Vi who had sat back on her stool, and Marshal Gimm who looked every bit unimpressed with each passing second, "... Entertainment, you see?" He chuckled awkwardly, his voice rising just a bit.

Marshal Gimm was silent again. And this one stretched far longer than would've been comfortable. The two guards who had taken their position behind the Lord Marshal seemed even more ominous with each stretch of the silence. Lord Kilten looked like he would shrink into his attires if he had the chance, his skin slowly going pale.

It was then that Vi realised something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

A smile crept up the Lord Marshal’s face. "So you think bringing this girl here would make me ignore what you've done, eh, Kilten?" And his guards drew closer, fingers inches away from their weapons. "You seriously thought I wouldn't know it was you behind the scandal with my daughter and that Skybeing? You think so lowly of me, don't you, Kilten?"

The guards moved ever closer, their eyes shadowed in the slits of their thick helmets. Rikha's first instinct was to run, which was completely opposite to Vi's instinct to stay until told to move. Lord Kilten squeaked and got up abruptly, kicking a table of fruits over in the process. He turned this way and that, looking for room to escape. Vi stood up too, but was quite unsure what to do after that.

"My lord!" Kilten piped, "My lord please be understanding! She forced me into it! The Skybeing had threatened me! He threatened to take my life!" One guard, with his sword drawn out, came closer to the Lord, sent him squirming back until he fell onto his chair again. The Lord looked less dignified now, hair in disarray, face no less. Seemed that was the thing about facing death. You never look ready enough.

"So you disobeyed me because a Skybeing threatened you? You didn't think that my threats could be worse than his? Or is it because he's from Arimel? You thought I would keep quiet because they're among the strongest States in Ateda?" Marshal Gimm stood up from his seat. Regal and imposing, he walked slowly until he was just a few feet from the guard and Lord Kilten.

"Forgiveness, my lord! Please, I had no choice!" Kilten looked white as snow now. He shrank back into his chair, fearful eyes ready to pop out of his skull, panting heavily at the face of death. Vi subconsciously took a step back.

Marshal Gimm paused. And he shook his head. "Well, the dead never had much of a choice anyway.”

The shriek that came after was cut off with the sharp slash of blade meeting flesh and the wet squelch that followed after. Vi stared as her Lord's–or Rikha's Lord's–head fell sideways and onto the white tiled floors, staining it with the crimson shade of murder. It rolled to a stop before Marshal Gimm. He glanced down at it with that unimpressed look of his. Like this wasn't even the hundredth severed head he'd seen in his time.

Vi took another step back, flinched as she knocked back her stool, paled even further as it drew attention and swallowed the lump in her throat. The Lord Marshal seemed to have remembered that she was there for he glanced at her with a bemused look. He put a hand over his nose and furrowed his brows. She only just noticed the ever-flaming insignia of the Egnira clan on the back of his hand.

"Take the head, burn the body, and kill the others in this House." A guard stepped forward as commanded, about to swing his axe and take her head when the Marshal spoke again. "Let me talk to her first." The guard stopped mid-swing, gave way for his master and bowed.

Lord Marshal Gimm, now standing barely a foot away from Vi, looked as ominous as death itself would. Like a tower about to fall on her, and she couldn't escape it. The fear in Rikha's heart rose even higher, overpowering all her other emotions. Perhaps Vi's fear was included in it. A part of her wondered if he would let her live. Maybe become his slave from thereon. This was the middle of the week, Vi could work her hardest until she left Rikha's body and woke up in the body of someone else next week.

But another part of her wondered if this was the end of her meaningless journey. Perhaps she had satisfied the Great and had proved useful, somehow. That was the purpose of her life, wasn't it? To be a soul who served the Great's mysterious needs. And it was at an end now.

The thought almost had her… relieved.

The Lord Marshal looked her up and down, shook his head as if in pity, spun on his heels, and walked away. "You… are a waste." He then waved his hand.

The guard brought down his axe.

A sharp sting in the neck was the last thing she felt.