Chapter 17: Discipline & Punishment


    <em>When the ever-creeping ice drifts further to the south it is often called the ‘Time of Trials’ by the people of the North. The greater cold would force these fearsome tribes to be more bellicose, raiding their neighbors in a bid to maintain their power and prosperity. When a tribe seeds in a raid the barbarians would sell their broken enemies into bondage, if they fail their ‘excess’ children are sold in their stead.</em>


    <em>- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 A.C</em>


    A shockingly cold ssh hit across my bruised and battered body, waking me from exhausted slumber. My eyes were heavy and refused to open until a p stung across my left cheek. Arge iron cor was fitted around my neck, and through lidded eyes, I saw Degei the Overseer looking down his nose at me like I was some sort of irritant. Two tall guards carrying cudgels nked him, adding to his aura of authority. Sighing, the weedy man exined my new situation.


    “You are the most troublesome bilge-rat of an ounder. That Nord you killed was a good worker, and it will reflect poorly on our quotas. Good ves are hard to rece!” Degei punctuated by pping me lightly like an owner disciplining a dog, “Still he was a bit of a troublemaker, but I digress. A survivor of the winnowing, I knew you would give me a full of troubles, but on your first day!” he cried, exasperated. He took my silence for acknowledgment and continued in his educated voice, “This is a witchbound ve cor. You cause trouble, you will feel pain. You bezy, you will feel greater pain. You escape, you will feel agony until our Waveriders collect you. You cause violence to a free man, you die.”


    With this, he tilted my head and forced a red liquid down my throat from a thin ss vial. The taste was somewhere between old socks and rotten cheese, with a surprisingly sweet undertone of cherry. I half gagged down the foul concoction. My Health, which had been hovering around fourteen, rose by twenty points as I felt a different, yet somehow familiar, warmth diffuse through my body. I realized I was being force-fed a healing potion. If this world was a game, then it really was the work of a truly sick creator. Degei raised the rest of the vial to my lips and I unconsciously moved my face away from it.


    He pped me again before exining slowly in a voice as cold and uncaring as a winter day, “These are valuable. Spill a single drop and I will have you beaten to within an inch of your life.” He pronounced each syble with the finality of a prophet’sst words. My eyes grew wide in fear and I forced myself to acquiesce, nodding now in understanding. The taste was of course horrible, and I almost coughed and gagged, but this time I weed the warmth that straightened my limbs and healed broken muscles and bones. But it did nothing for my splintered soul.


    “Good little bilge-rat,” he remarked, patting me across the cheek in some form of twisted affection. A smile almost unconsciously formed across my face, such was my reaction to any show of positive emotion in this new world, however distorted. Something was definitely wrong with me, and I fought down the burgeoning feeling of gratitude. The rebellious part of myself, that part that had always hated the skewed system, refused to give in to the seeds of a pernicious, newly forming Stockholm Syndrome. While looking down to avoid meeting his eyes, wishing to hide the glimmer of rebellion they held, I quickly looked over my Status and character sheet.


    <strong>STATUS</strong> <strong>Calling</strong><strong><em>Gilgamesh Level 6 Acolyte of Avaria</em></strong> <strong>Strength</strong><strong>18</strong> <strong>Dexterity</strong><strong>13</strong> <strong>Constitution</strong><strong>26</strong> <strong>Intelligence</strong><strong>16</strong> <strong>Wisdom</strong><strong>12</strong> <strong>Charisma</strong><strong>8</strong> <strong>Luck</strong><strong>13</strong>


    <strong>


    </strong>


    <strong>SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES</strong><strong></strong> <strong>Pain Nullification (lvl.1)</strong>


    <strong></strong> <strong>Power Strike (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Endure (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Stealth (lvl.1)</strong> <strong>Rest (lvl.1)</strong> <strong>Backstab (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Dodge (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Polearms (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Dual Wield (lvl.1)</strong>


    <strong>Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2)</strong>


    <strong>Mining (lvl.1)</strong>


    <strong>Unarmed Combat (lvl.3)</strong>


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>SPELLS & MAGIC</strong><strong></strong> <strong>Heal (lvl.5)</strong>


    <strong></strong> <strong>Ruse (lvl.1)</strong> <strong>Identify (lvl.2)</strong> <strong>Silent Casting (lvl.1)</strong>


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>GIFTS</strong> <strong>Curse of Entropy -20% all starting attributes.</strong> <strong>Experience to next level 810/991</strong> <strong>Health</strong><strong>54/105</strong> <strong>Stamina</strong><strong>12/41</strong> <strong>Mana</strong><strong>6/11</strong>


    The healing potions had raised my Health to just over half, though my Stamina was still perilously low, and I could feel tiredness weighing my limbs. I had the Mana for a healing spell, but something in my gut told me that it would not be wise to cast a healing spell in front of Degei, Silent Casting skill or not. The Overseer checked over my naked form, nodding at the requisite level of violence my torturers used. His guard nked him, solid and silent like two stone sentinels.


    Patting my head like a good broken dog, he turned around and indicated to follow as his guards left the cell, both of them giving me looks that promised violence on a whim.


    I lifted a manacled hand to shield myself from the light of two almost smokeless torches. Degei gave me a satisfied smile, like an owner that had trained a pet to do a new trick, and pointed off down the ways to a group of ves huddled on the packed earth eating their evening repast.


    “Go, ounder. Eat your meal. Tomorrow you will be working double shift, no triple shift!” his eyes lighting up with glee before continuing, “Enjoy your new home and be a good boy!”


    Still shackled at the hands and hobbled, I slowly made my way to the gathering, my escort following me halfway. Eyes downcast, the ves would asionally steal hesitant nces in my direction, before surreptitiously continuing with their meals. A small youth, however, held my eyes for longer than the others. A conflict of warring emotions yed about his features as he surveyed me, before snorting and continuing to gobble down his meal.


    I made my way to a small trestle table stacked half full with crude chipped earthenware bowls and rough wooden spoons. A cauldron filled with a thick gruel-like paste, overseen by a world-weary old crone of a woman, gave the impression of a witch boiling up a new concoction. Nheless, my stomach rumbled and the cauldron’s contents gave off a most inviting smell. Grabbing a bowl and spoon, I shuffled forward and gave the old woman a greeting.


    “Good day to you madam,” I said in a neutral, polite voice. I was met with a cackle, which only solidified my original impression of her.


    “Not a madam. Just little old Aditi,” she somehow managed to utter between cackles, “you’re thed they speak of who survived the winnowing and did that giant Harun in for looking at you funny, they say. Here give me your bowl if you be wanting feeding. Give you a little extra for cutting the thread of one of the little masters.”


    I handed her my bowl, a little hesitant, timidly asking, “Why am I even still alive?”


    Grunting now, “They can’t kill you boy. Least, not directly anyways by their own hands. You sure ain’t made any friends though, that young pup was probably someone’s get. Still, you survived the trial on the sands. In their reckoning, you are now a blooded warrior and member of their tribe,” she cackled before continuing, “A lifetime in the mine will break you. Seen it too many times before. The masters be a practical lot, you’ll be paying the blood price one way or another,” she punctuated her exnation by dolloping twodles of slop into my bowl, before spitting a huge wad of phlegm into the fire.


    “Thank you for the food,” I humbly replied, the words sticking a little in my throat at the simple disy ofmon human kindness. I went to sit alone in a quiet corner.


    Sitting cross-legged, I made sure to eat slowly. I had experienced extreme hunger once before already. This would give my digestion a chance to adjust to the new food. My mind wandered as I ate, considering the potential bacteria and other biological dangers just existing in this new world posed. But between my magic, the recent potion, and my rtively high Constitution, I had yet to feel any of the ill effects from this world’s smaller denizens.


    Before I knew it, and despite trying to eat slowly, I had finished my crude yet filling meal. A dozen meters or so away, a thin streamlet flowed across a crack in the rock before running down into a grate, simr to what I had seen when I entered thepound. I bent down to wash my earthenware bowl and wooden spoon with my hands, before noticing a slightly familiar face, dark eyes looking intently at me.


    “Did you really kill Harun?” the young boy said in a voice with quiet childish determination.


    Blinking a few times at the sudden question, I looked up at him quizzically, surprise etched into the lines of my face.


    “Harun the Iron, they say you killed him because you''re a murderer. That they put the ve mark on you for killing one of your own, a kinyer. They say you killed him because you think that even here in pens you are still a master,” the boy went on like a judge reading out a sentence, already convinced of his own justice.


    So surprised was I by how irresponsible rumor had twisted the truth, I could offer no solid defense to his words. The boy noticed the dawning understanding in my eye and mistook it for eptance of his words. This made his chin quiver slightly with repressed emotion as he continued relentlessly.


    “My name is Gunne son of Guug and I will have my vengeance,” he said looking me in the eyes, fists clenched in anger.


    An apology that was rising as an automatic reflex reaction was suddenly stymied by his pronouncement of revenge. This whole world had offered enough suffering and pain for three lifetimes, and the only kindness I had received so far was from some sort of cooking witch who hated our masters more than she hated me. What should have been guilt was reced by anger and scorn.


    “He died like a sow in heat being plowed by horse,” I spat out, making sure to thread disdain through my words. Though somewhat random, the collection of insults felt right and inventive in this context. “I am Gilgamesh and you’ll die as he did, sniveling and crying for thefort of your mother. You are nothing but an N…P…C…” I made sure to stress thest deliberately and slowly,ced with what icy threat I could muster, though I doubted he understood the meaning.


    Slowly rising, I was d to notice that his eyes had widened a little in fear. Standing, I looked at him, seeing now nothing but a scared boy who had dared challenge a killer. He almost fell back then as he turned to run, some of the other ves casting a few nces in our direction and whispering among themselves. A seed of darkness had been nted within me then. It had felt satisfying to have sown fear and not been subjected to it. Empowering even, to hold power over someone weaker than myself. For a moment it had washed away the memories of the torment that I had suffered.


    Looking around at the other ves, I made sure to hold their eyes just long enough to show strength, but not long enough to provoke a challenge. I returned to finish my chore. Once done, I moved slowly back towards Adita and handed her my now clean utensils, to which she gave me a short nod of appreciation. The others sensing that there would be no simr entertainment this night followed suit before slowly drifting off towards a crude t-roofed building. It resembled the sort of stable for housing arge number of animals. A single wooden entrance and crude shutters were the only decoration on its front facade. Following a herd instinct, I made my way to the tail end and apanied them inside. It was dark inside with theck of lighting, but I could still perceive crude wooden pallets at certain intervals on a hard-packed earthen floor. Some of the ves had already imed their spots, but I hazarded a rough guess that there was at least one free space today.


    I settled down on a simple crude pallet a little ways from the corner. Remembering that I had enough Mana for healing, I took the time to cast Heal silently amid the tulence, snores, and myriad noises that humans make in a packed space in close proximity to one another. Grinning to myself, I noticed that the strength of my spell had increased significantly and was now healing me for just over a third of my total Health.


    <strong>Health</strong><strong>90/105</strong> <strong>Stamina</strong><strong>22/41</strong> <strong>Mana</strong><strong>1/11</strong>


    This reaffirmed my decision to focus my points instead of trying to be a jack-of-all-trades. While I began to n for my near future, exhaustion stole upon me and I fell into a deep and troubled sleep. At least tonight I would hopefully know some measure of peace.