A Pamphlet from the Iron Arena
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Candidate of Zasi! The Trial of Eradication has begun. Justice is nothing before the strong. Desires, dreams, and wants are all meaningless when they come from the weak. The weak of Everwall seek Justice for your actions during their formation. You have One Earth [Month] to eradicate their Candidate and all others who stand in your way. Warning: The Candidate of Everwall has been given the Trial of Justice. Only one will succeed.
“Sir … excuse me young sir … are – are you alright?” the voice asks, breaking through the iron focus. The speaker is the owner of the establishment, a middle aged woman with dark skin and greying hair carrying a tray in her arms.
The man looks her up and down, causing her to flinch back and pull the tray inwards. Foolish. He wasn’t looking her up and down to appreciate any physical beauty, he was inspecting her body for weapons or traits of combat prowess. Neither were present. He waves a hand and she runs away towards the bar. For her to have the audacity to come up to the strong and escape with her life … this town was blunting his edge.
The man was a harbinger of forceful change, not some weakling who hung on the word or approval of others. To be confined to a single place for months on end, focusing only on improving the Skills of the weak, had been torture. He had been chosen for a more important purpose than that.
Of course, all that waiting was now over. A knife flashes out onto the table and a smile breaks out over his face. The hushed whispers of the bar fall deadly silent as all the citizens look upon their psychotic leader in terror. They had grown comfortable; it was time to change that.
“Zasi has grown stale. I will fix this before leaving. Become stronger.”
His voice carries out into the room and a few of the patrons fall to their knees, faces pale at the realization. A woman in the far corner clutches a small child to her chest, whispering in his ear, and a teenaged boy attempts to sneak out a window when he thinks he is unobserved. They are all weak.
Let the others see their suffering. They will find the motivation to become strong.
He moves with a blinding speed, quick steps taking him around the room in a few seconds. The knife flashes back and forth, leaving behind small red lines as a parting gift. The fallen patrons die on their knees, the woman and child silenced. Bodies tumble to the ground like puppets losing their strings.
Of course, that leaves the boy.
The man steps out into the blinding light of the day and ignores the hot sand underneath his feet. Citizens, covered by their black protective wear, look at him in fear, instinctively recognizing him as a hunter. It matters not, it only marks them as prey.
The buildings around him, single floored brown adobe structures, are placed without any sense of order, allowing the boy to slip into an alley. He must know that it is hopeless but he runs regardless. The man doesn’t understand it but he secretly enjoys the hunt, giving his prey a few moments before he begins the chase. The voice in his head cries out for instant action but he pushes it back down. The saviors imbued him with their holy urges but he would not let himself be devoured by their desires.
Waiting for a few more seconds, the man smiles like a jackal and makes his move. He jumps up onto the low buildings with little effort and begins jumping along them, moving too quickly for passerby’s to get a good look. Within seconds he’s caught up with the panting teenaged boy who seems to think as if he has escaped.
Jumping off the single story building, he lands in front of the boy and watches the terror appear. The voice lets out a pleased sigh and the man does the same. The fear of the weak as their death approaches is a pure thing and he can never get enough of it.
The knife flashes and the boy’s body falls to the ground, a dark red line welling up around his neck.
The man holds his knife against his face, ignoring the biting sharpness of the edge, and looks up to the sky. The bright sun beats down overhead, filling the city with its stifling heat.
I will leave at night. The city will become stronger until then, He thinks to himself.
A few hours later, the man walks out of the city with a bag over his shoulder. Despite all this time, he remembers exactly where Everwall is. In fact, he remembers each and every weak person whose life he has ended. A beautiful symphony of images and scenes play out in his head as he walks, reliving his proudest moments as he walks away from a city of death and suffering.
----------------------------------------
“…. Ca …. Cae … Cael!”
The words finally break through the ringing in my ears and I shake my head. My mother stands in front of me, her hands resting on her hips. A single eyebrow is raised but it doesn’t take her long to realize something is wrong. Worry spreads out over her face and she walks up to me, placing a hand on my arm and looking into my eyes.
“Cael, what’s wrong?” She gently says, directing me towards the living room and sitting me down at one of the comfortable chairs. I fall into the deep cushions and lean back, staring up at the ceiling above. My mind is a whirlwind of emotion but all I can think about is how beautiful the light coming through the window is. It reveals dancing dust and little particles carried around by drafts.
“I just received the next Trial.” I respond, not looking down. A more clinical part of my mind begins to exert control but it will take a while. The realization that I’ll finally come face to face with Marc’s killer is far too much for it to override in an instant.
“And?”
“It’s the Trial of Justice. I have to … I have to avenge Marc.”
Her body locks up, a clear sign of what’s going on in her mind. Her eyes seem to glisten for a few seconds but I’m not sure; my mother isn’t one to display emotion when the situation needs cold practicality. The two of us sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before she speaks again. Unlike before, her voice has taken on a clinical tone. “And what is your plan?”
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not really sure what my plan is. One part of me wants to bunker down and wait for the bastard to show up but a more convincing part of me suggests making the first move. Also, from what I’ve gathered from the thoughts of the guards, the man doesn’t have any issues with hurting innocents.
“I think I’ll gather my team and leave today. Carmen can help lead us toward him and I’ll kill him before he has the chance to hurt anyone else.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She looks at me strangely. “Kill him in the wild? Cael, you said this was a Trail of Justice. You have to bring him back so that we can try him in the Court.”
I scoff. “I’m not bringing back a known killer to Everwall, especially one who may be stronger than me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. If anyone can bring him back alive and trapped it is you.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence but I’m not willing to risk lives. He’ll die in the wilderness like the rabid animal he is”, I respond, feeling myself losing control. There’s something about Marc’s death that feels … visceral. Perhaps it is the fact that he was my family or perhaps it is because I’ve pored over the memories of nearly every person there. Regardless, the thought of the man fills me with an anger that I can’t keep down.
“Cael, you have to bring him back. He has to face justice.” My mother grabs my arm as she finishes. Taken aback, I realize that the strange look in her eyes has only gotten more pronounced. If I didn’t know better, I would think that she was also losing control.
I pull my arm away. “The only justice we’ll get is through his death. The outcome is the same; I’m not going to risk people’s lives.”
“No Cael, you don’t understand. He needs to come back to Everwall. He needs to be tried and killed in Everwall. Please, I need to see it happen.” She shuffles over to me and sits down on the table, grabbing my hand and holding it between hers.
“Look, I told you Mom, I’m not going to risk it.”
“No! He needs to die here!” She yells at me, ripping herself away and pacing through the living room. The sight of my mother, the woman of infamous control, walking around the room muttering is like a wave of coldness upon the flames of my anger. I still feel it within me but it’s grasp on me is destroyed; the fire becomes a smoldering coal.
“Mom … why does it matter? He dies both ways.”
“Because it does matter! You weren’t here! I had to watch that bastard cut open my nephew and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it! This is my chance to watch him die like he made me watch Marc die!” She screams, going red in the face.
It’s obvious that she’s been holding this in since Marc’s death, keeping the emotion bottled up and not allowing herself to mourn. No wonder she never takes any breaks; if she ever let herself stop she’d probably be overwhelmed with the emotion. It’s the King family way but … it is eminently clear to me that it is not healthy. No matter how far down you bury the emotion, it eventually manages to make its way to the surface and, if my mother’s famous control isn’t enough, nothing can stop it.
Holding my palms up, I slowly walk over to her and wrap my arms around her, placing my hand on the back of her head and pulling it toward my chest. Her body is shaking and we stand there for a few moments as it subsides. A minute or two pass before she pulls away from me and her eyes meet mine. They are filled with shame, probably at allowing her son to see that display of emotion, but that’s not all. She looks as if her mind is made up.
“Thank you Cael … I’m okay now. I’m not wrong though.” She takes a deep breath. “The people of Everwall watched that monster kill our best defender and we couldn’t do a thing about it. To see him brought to justice in a true trial would raise morale more than you or I ever could.”
I shake my head. “I’m not risking it Mom. People have told me what this man was capable of and I’m not even sure I’ll be able to win. I’m not going to hobble myself by trying to take him alive. “
“You’re underestimating yourself.”
“No, you’re underestimating him and overestimating me. I’m not going to increase the risk to my own life just because you have an inflated sense of what I can and cannot do.”
She pales at my words, possibly considering that I may die. Almost instantly she shakes her head as if to dispel that thought. Is it possible that she has also bought into all the propaganda that she has been peddling?
“I don’t want to risk your life, but think of what the people will say when you bring him back? They’ll adore you even more for bringing him to justice.”
“I don’t want you to risk your life, but just think of the impact that it will have. You’ve advocated for Everwall to be the city on the hill but this man is a stain upon our very foundation. His trial would clear up that final wound!”
“I’ll bring back his body but I’m not going to risk it, Mom. I’m sorry, that’s the end of it.”
She twirls a strand of hair in her hand before steeling herself. “Cael, I don’t want to do this but you are leaving me no choice. As the elected leader of Everwall, I comma – ”
I don’t let her get out another word, yelling, “STOP! Christ, Mom. I can tell this has been eating at you but you’d be sending me out with a handicap.”
“Voice of the Matriarch.”
Her voice, imbued with a power and gravitas that I’ve never heard before, washes over me and I am forced to take a step back. How the hell is she able to speak like this?
“Cael King, as your elected leader, I command you to try and take your target alive and bring him back to Everwall to stand trial for the murder of Marc King.”
I feel tendrils of the command push into me, trying to change my mind so that I agree with the tenants of the command. Any other person, no matter their level or Class, would be forced to submit.
I bring my Willpower to bear and cast off the tendrils before they can gain a foothold in my mind. I trained under Albasalas, a being of immense mental power, and fought off Doc’s commands without issue. Commands based on my position as a citizen of Everwall are nothing. My mind is my sanctum and I will not let it be controlled.
She’d mentioned me falling under her command when I first announced that I was a Candidate but it had never crossed my mind that she would actually use that to command me to do something. The fact that she's willing to use that now is just more evidence of how unbalanced she currently is.
Standing to my full height, I look down on my mom and, for the first time, she looks at me with a hint of fear. Her knuckles go white as she clutches the side of the chair. I know that she’s not in the right state of mind but I can’t help but feel frustration and betrayal in me. She’s my mother and my anger will pass in time, but her actions leave a sour taste in my mouth.
I turn towards the front door and walk out, turning around at the front door. “I can’t believe you tried that… We’ll need to talk about this when I get back. But I’m not going to bring him back. The result is the same whether it is out there or back here. He dies and Marc is avenged.”
I shut the front door behind me and walk out into the city.