I awoke in the morning. I saw the sun, faintly, hitting my tent. That was my first sign that something wasn’t right. The lack of a wake-up call was a departure from the attitude present in the training camp just the day before. Rising from my tent, I saw Harker standing there, silently, in with a group of about half of the total recruits in front of him. I walked forwards, tentatively taking my place in line.

` I started to ask what was going on, but as my mouth opened, the person in line next to me jabbed me softly with his elbow. Message received, I suppose. If we weren’t supposed to talk, that at least explained the prevalent silence. Even the other day, when we were supposed to be quiet, it didn’t last for anywhere near this long, nor was it this complete. Normally, hushed whispers or hurried murmurs rang out throughout the line, no matter how much we were glared at. People would often find small ways to talk, after all.

But today, it was different. Nobody said anything. People occasionally shifted from foot to foot. I tried to puzzle out what was going on while I stood there, but I didn't have a lot to work with. Something was obviously off. While this could be a tactic to scare new recruits, or the expected standard of discipline that had been skipped the first day, but I didn’t think that it was. For one, it was too quiet. Unless everyone else but me had been told what we were doing, surely someone would have said something by now. Secondly, the atmosphere was tense. There was almost a palpable feeling of dread and danger in the air, and Harker looked grimmer than I’d ever seen him, jaw set, brow furrowed, hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

As I had been standing there, trying to work out what was going on, more and more people trickled into the ranks, as they woke up. Sometimes there would be a few at a time, other times there would be several minutes between each new person. During one of the brief moments I turned my head, I saw Ryan joining the line, looking satisfied.

Did he know something I didn’t? Had the escape attempt worked? Maybe that’s why we were all being lined up: So Harker could chew us out. It would make sense. Surely a new recruit deserting was a bad look for Harker, especially one so talented. His bosses couldn’t have been happy. Who knew what consequences he had faced. We were probably going to be punished as a group, in an attempt to deter anybody else who thought of escaping. After all, if you knew that your comrades would suffer for your absence, then maybe you would be less inclined to flee. And perhaps, even more powerfully, if someone in your group was attempting to flee, you would be far more likely to try and stop them, or at least tell an authority figure, if you knew you would face a harsh punishment should they succeed. It was a classic group conditioning tactic. I lowered my head. I wasn’t looking forwards to the seemingly evermore likely hell that would take place in my near future. I consoled myself with thoughts of leaving tonight. Just one more day of suffering, and I could be out of this place forever.

As more and more new people came into formation, a few others tried to talk, or ask questions, and such. Most of them were shutdown before they could utter a sound, but a few managed to get a few syllables out of their mouths before their neighbor clapped a hand over their lips. No matter how far along someone got, however, Harker didn’t say a word, simply continuing to stand there, staring off into the distance, not even bothering to look at us.

It took almost half an hour from the time I arrived there for everyone else to show up. Eventually, however, the last tired trainee stumbled into line, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It took only a minute more of waiting before Harker turned his head, letting his gaze wash over us.

I couldn’t place the emotion I saw in his face. Just how screwed were we? Surely one man escaping couldn’t be this bad, no matter how talented he was. Did something more drastic happen? Did a city fall? A rival kingdom declare war on us? Were we about to be deployed to the front lines, months early? Perhaps a sleeping god had woken up, or a magical super plague had broken out. Wild thoughts and theories filled my head, as Harker turned and started walking off, waving for us to follow him.

The sign caused a few murmurs to break out. We hadn’t been given a single non-verbal command (normally shouted at maximum volume, might I add) since we had arrived here.

Despite our growing confusion, we followed after him, the muttering quieting down until the discomforting silence returned. We marched onto the worn dirt path, past trees with leaves faded by the sun. We went past our normal training field. Further along, I saw another group of a similar size to us training diligently. It looked like they may have been doing the same thing we were yesterday, although I couldn’t be sure. How many groups of trainees were there here? In fact, how large was this camp? We had hardly seen another person, but I doubted I had even covered half the distance of the camp. The dirt path, which seemed to stretch off into infinity behind me, lent strength to my suspicions.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

We passed the mess area as well. There was smoke rising from over the tree tops, and a smell of something foody drifted out on the wind, but it obviously wasn’t our time to eat just yet. But if we weren’t being led there, or to the training area, where were we going? Back to the armory? Somewhere else? Was there going to be a mock battle? Did we have to stand guard over an execution?

We were walking in the direction of the entrance, after all. I didn’t know what was all down there, but surely we didn’t need to go back? After a few more minutes of shuffling down the packed dirt path, we arrived at the front gates. Instead of having them opened, or otherwise turning to go out, Harker turned off to the left, walking along the cleared grass that surrounded the inside of the fence, which served as a several meter thick perimeter.

I noticed something I had missed on the way in. Dotted along the wall, every 100-150 feet or so, was a covered guard tower. I couldn’t see inside them, but there was somebody in at least one, because a man clad in a much nicer and cleaner version of our uniform leaned out to peer at us as we walked past, bow in his hand. I tried to act like I didn’t notice him, and could see several around me do the same. It helped the nerves, I think.

Past the tower, and past many more like it, we eventually arrived at our destination. Harker started to slow his pace, gradually coming to a standstill next to a seemingly ordinary patch of wall. He stood there, looking at us, as if he was waiting for us to notice something, but what? I studied the wall, looking to see if anything was different about it. I looked behind us, to see if somebody was sneaking up on us, if this was some sort of test. Nothing.

Eventually, I saw somebody looking up at the top of the wall, face pale. I followed his gaze, and instantly regretted it. There, on top of the wall, a stake was fastened, sticking straight up. A dark, viscous fluid dripped down it slowly, leaving small rivers of rust flowing down onto the wall below. There were flies buzzing around it, and the corpse had two arrows sticking out of its chest, embedded deep into its central mass. Its skin was pale, with red splotches dotting its body, giving it an odd, swollen look.

I didn’t know why Harker was showing us this. Was it a trophy of war? Someone trying to invade the camp? But once I caught sight of the face, I knew exactly what was happening. The head hung low, but it was still visible, and it was a familiar, if new, face. Wyll.

A wave of nausea washed over me. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a dead body. Not even the first time I had seen somebody that I knew dead. But this was different then back in Rivesh. I don’t why. Maybe it was because there wasn’t anything else going on. Sure, seeing people ripped to shreds was terrifying and gross and horrifying, but with your life at risk it was far easier to compartmentalize, to push it to the back of your mind, not even fully perceive it, let alone fully remember it. But now, when there was no danger? When all I could do was stand and stare?

And the state of the body might have something else to do with it. It didn’t quite look like a person, now. It was a bloated, distorted figure, and it looked more like a monster from a horror movie or some sort of freak science experiment than the remains of a living, breathing person.

I struggled to keep my eyes on it. Around me, I could hear a few people retching, and whispered exclamations of shock. The faces of our little group of escapees were especially pale. Jerald looked horrified. Ryan looked like he couldn’t process what was happening. And Rogier? Rogier looked angry. His hands were clenched at his side, teeth gritted, brows furrowed. He looked like a rabid dog, about to fly off of its chain.

Harker chose that moment to speak up. “Why can none of you listen? I told you all what would happen if you tried to escape. Told you you’d be put to death. I fucking warned you about it. But one of you didn’t think to listen. And now one of you, the most talented of the whole damn group, in fact, is sitting there, rotting on the wall for it. It always happens. You think you’re so much smarter than everyone else, that you can come and go as you please. Hopefully this expels that delusion. I want you to take a good long look at it. Memories every detail of his face, before the crows take his eyes, and remember your gratitude. Be grateful that he was the only one who tried this stupid shit, the only one that paid the price. Be grateful that he died so that you could live. Now, back to the camp”.

We marched back in sullen silence. My mind was a whirl of thoughts, impressions flashing about my head. I think that the rest of our group was similarly conflicted. We couldn’t stay here, but climbing out over the walls was out. How did I escape this death trap before it closed on me?