《Life: New Game &#x2B;》


 1 An Ending...

    Have you contemplated how you would die? Have you thought about what would be the manner of your death? I''m not referring to what happens after - the funeral, the eulogy, or the wake, none of this. Instead, I''m referring to the how and the why. Heart disease? Stroke? Those two are pretty big. What about diabetes and cancer ? They are pretty big too. I think even if we never speculated on the details of our demise, a reasonable man or woman would assume that he or she would die of fairly mundane circumstances. A reasonable man or woman would assume that he or she would probably live past 70.

    I''m a reasonable man. I have always done things in moderation, always read the advisories and always,always took the safe route.

    Which only made the manner of my impending doom that much more shocking and unacceptable.

    50...

    "So this is it" was what came to mind as I fell down Tower 1 of the MBS building.

    No life flashing before my eyes, no fear, no tears and no screams.

    Okay, maybe some screams.

    A car had run me over through the window off the observation deck on 50th floor. A cacophony of horrified shrieks from the onlookers rose and faded away as my battered body was thrust off the side, through the glass panels. The car fell down with me. Oh god, don''t let it fall on top of me.

    A car accident on the 50th story of the Marina Bay Sands building, resulting in one fatality. Tomorrow''s news will probably read something like that. What will they say about me? A 30 year old advertising executive? A loving son? A nobody. No doubt my one claim to fame would be the bizarre manner of my death.

    You might be thinking, how did this peculiar tragedy happen?

    40...

    Well someone had the amazingly stupid idea to bring the said car up 50 floors for a press event. When confronted with the fact that a car really takes up a lot of space, that stupid someone decided to tilt it on a ramp, just so the company could send out more invites.

    The stupid someone is my dumb ass boss, Sean.

    3 tables, 12 more invites. That''s why he tilted the car, on a ramp no less. Ah, how incredibly frustrating. That damn fuckwit Sean, to think that he would be the end of me - it''s like a bad joke.

    How on earth did no one check if the car was properly secured? Surely the ramp had some barrier or lock on it, and what about the car, where the hell was the parking breaks?

    Not to mention the fact that I was the only one unable to get out of the way. My path was blocked by the guests. It was downright comical. The car was not quick, it was gently cruising down, but in front of me was three dumb bitches. Mind you, I was the one truly in danger, being right smack in the middle of it, they simply needed to take two steps - one to be safe, another to give me space to maneuver. Yet, they just stood there, the stupid cunts. As I tried to get out of the way, they blocked me like the assholes who hog escalators and overhead bridges in groups. In the end, all I could do was try to get free, and all I achieved was pushing them aside before becoming tomorrow''s news story.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    One really bad idea, one failure to secure the car and the stupidity of three women - this is the equation of my demise.

    30...

    I wanted to scream! Oh wait... I''m screaming.

    This cannot be the end!

    A new client was about to sign with me. I would''ve gotten a promotion and a big fat bonus. I was saving for a down-payment on an apartment. I was going to do right by my family who had supported me through the years. We were going on a holiday, we were going to see the snows of Mount Fuji. We were going to relax in a traditional onsen.We were going to eat such amazing food. All those years, those 80 hour weeks, those sleepless nights on standy and for what?

    They tell you life isn''t fair, and you get it - sometimes things don''t go your way. But c''mon, this must be some kind of cosmic joke right?

    20...

    My unhappiness twists its way into resignation. This is the five stages of grief in 7.5 seconds. A strange calm washes over me, with tinge of regrets bobbing up like waves in the ocean.

    I won''t survive this.

    These are my final thoughts, shouldn''t I think of something nice? C''mon Edward, dont let your final image be one of sorrow. My life wasn''t all that bad, right? 30 is not alot, but it is more than some. I had sex, tons of sex, I indulged in my favorite pastimes - videogames, movies and aeromodelling.I managed to earn a decent amount. I had loving parents. I had great friends.

    I did well, didn''t I?

    10...

    Oh please let it not hurt too much.

    I''m not a religious man, but I pray. I pray for a swift release. I pray for mercy from the pain that would inevitably be coming. The ground below rushes towards me. I instinctively close my eyes. I try to will my thoughts to happier times. The wind roars in my ears and drowns out everything -

    A thud and a mighty crash rang out. I hear my bones snapping, the car fell next to me(thank god for small mercies). Then, I felt the pain. Oh god. The pain pierces through every fiber of my being. Every inch, every cell of mine is screaming.

    Then I felt sudden looseness. My body became lighter, it felt like all the weight that it had, had just floated away. My vision blurred. A brightness in my mind expanded like a wave through the rest of my body, overwriting every last sensation I had.

    Darkness engulfed me.

    Then a light brought me back.

    <hr>

    Tragedy struck the opening gala of the F1 night race as a freak accident led to a 30 year old advertising executive plummeting to his death after being run-over by one of the display cars for the event. Channel News Asia''s Jo Ong is on site with this special report.

    Jo? Can you tell us what exactly happened?

    Well Diane , as far as I can tell, at 10.30 this evening, one of the display cars came loose and barreled through a crowd on the 50th floor. There have been numerous injuries, and at least 3 have been sent to hospital in critical condition.

    Unfortunately, an advertising executive was run over by the said car and plummeted through the windows. I have been told by eyewitnesses that the executive in question was pushing three guests away despite being in the car''s path.

    As you can see behind me, the car crashed into the pavement below, and there has been reports of damage to the shops in the vicinity. Apparently, the impact of crash launched a shock-wave so great nearby glass storefronts have cracked. Police have cordoned off the area pending a full investigation.

    Back to you Diane.

    That was Jo on site. Truly an unfortunate tragedy.

    Next up, it is that time of the year again, Halloween! George is up with a special feature to tell you what you can expect this holiday season.

 2 And a Beginning

    "Come into the light so that we may see you." A deep, rich baritone voice echoed out.

    What. The. Fuck.

    Didn''t I just die? Was that a dream? Is this some Matrix shit?

    Where''s my body?

    Ah. So I''m dead. Damn it.

    I feel myself being brought forward, and I can muster neither the strength nor the will to act against it. You would think that I would be pissing my pants. Before today, I probably would''ve thought the same. Dying changes your perspective. Dying changes everything. And there is peace to be had in total surrender. That and I just couldn''t give a fuck anymore. Not even about the realization that I''m without a physical body. I''m dead.

    Let the good times roll.

    "We are your makers."

    What? We?

    "Yes, and you have been made in perfection for a purpose that we desire."

    Hold up, hold up, hold up. Made? Purpose? And another thing, I''m not talking, I''m thinking. They are reading my mind.

    "Give the child some time to orient himself." This voice is now different, sweeter and softer, gentle and firm in equal measure.

    How many of them are there? From the voices alone, I can make out two of them. Wait... I have no body, no ears, how the hell am I hearing them?

    "Well, you are not really hearing. You are knowing. We are giving you that knowledge, much like how you would input code into a program." A third voice, young and bright ring out.

    How many of them are there?

    "An infinity. We come from another creation, far older and darker than this. You know us by many names, gods, demons, spirits and my personal favorite - aliens. Hah! "

    Damn I could start a whole new religion.

    "Many already have, care to give it a try?"I could hear a smile in the youthful voice.

    In front of me I can make our three distinct entities. "Front", that description in itself feels strange, I can''t tell right from left,nor top from bottom. It''s like the feeling you get when you are falling in your sleep, and wake up to realize that you were lying the whole time. Only here, I''m falling everywhere, all at the same time, towards these entities, and I do not wake up.

    Neither do I see them in the traditional sense. Rather, I have an idea about seeing them, like they are concepts or rough ideas that I''m trying to fill the details in.

    There''s one with a rich authoritative voice, I see him as an old man, grey and grizzled. There''s another with a kindness and warmth in her tone, I see her as a caring mother-figure. The third entity defies description, he is constantly in flux, mercurial and capricious, at one moment he is wise in a way that only fools can be. In another, he is shallow, like the silliness of children. He defies labels, and my closest approximation is a youth, not yet concrete in his will.

    "Enough. ????. We are not permitted to interfere with the mundane. Which brings us to your purpose. You see, some of us have strayed from the ancient compacts, you will need to bring them to heel."

    First of all, I''m dead, I don''t need to do a damn thing. And how is this ''not interfering''?

    "Correction. You are not dead. You are not alive either, not in the traditional sense anyways."

    Excuse Me?

    "We will have to start over if you break him,????."

    An unease grows in my mind, slowly weighing down my thoughts.

    "And if you do not do this, we will simply make a version of you that will"

    If I had a heart, it would''ve stopped right there and then. Make a version of me? How many of me were there before me?

    "Ahahaha! This never gets old. Oh look at you, so small and stupid." The youth cackles in delight. I make a mental note of his condescending words.

    "Hold your tongue ????! Or we shall find another psychopomp that will take over your duties."

    "My dear????, such harsh words! I just might leave before you get to chase me off."

    What is this? Am I in a tragedy or a comedy?

    "Neither, but you do have a role to play. You have been made by us, to do what we cannot do."

    What do you mean made? Didn''t you just bring my soul or something here after I died?

    "That would be a violation of the rules. Not to mention that souls, as you understand it, does not exist, much like the luminiferous aether of the past. We created you using the identity of Edward Lim. You are not Edward Lim himself, as he is dead and gone. What you are is the best approximation we can make of Edward. In other words, you are a copy-"

    "-But that is a distinction without a difference. Edward is no more, you are here, and you inherited everything that he is."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Once again the kind and gentle lady tries to soothe me. I don''t know what to think. I''m not dead, but how can I be alive? I''m Edward, but Edward is dead. Is this what cloning yourself would feel like?

    "That notion ... is not wholly incorrect."

    As I try to get a sense of my current reality, I realize that even my thoughts could be something other than my own. If they made me, who is to say what I''m thinking now is not what they intended. I begin to fall into an endless rabbit hole of contradictions. I stop myself. I don''t want to be made again.

    Let me try something.

    "HEY! WHAT IS IT YOU''ll HAVE ME DO? YOU MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKERS!?" I spew this with as much venom as I can muster.

    "Hahaha! That''s my boy! You have your proof now? That you are yourself?"

    Not totally, but I doubt gods would make it such that their creation insults them.

    "We will forgive this transgression.Those of us who have strayed. Kill them. They have manifested themselves as gods on another world. Meddling and bringing great disorder, they are a veritable scourge-"

    "-Why not do it yourself."

    "Are you daft? They are already told you. We cannot interfere, the ancient compacts prevent us from doing do. In our current state, we cannot move a single hair on a person''s head. To do so, we would need to take physical form."

    "And you can''t do that because of what, an old promise?"

    "In so many words."

    "And I''m basically a loophole..."

    "You are catching on."

    "What''s to stop you from closing that loophole after the deed is done."

    Silence. Not even the kind mother comes out to soothe my fears.

    So they will kill me then.

    Wait can they? If I''m to take physical form, they can harm me right? Unless they are lying. Or unless there''s something they are not telling me. Or they could send someone to kill me, then send someone to kill the person that killed me and...

    That doesn''t seem right.

    But still, I''m at unease. There is a caveat within their plan for me, one of a fatal nature, I suspect. But what can I do about it?

    Absolutely nothing. For now.

    Within the greatest danger lies the greatest opportunities. I heard that somewhere. I form a thought in my mind, an audacious plan - but what''s there to lose? If I leave things as such, I have only oblivion to look forward to. A deal - a quid pro quo, is what I seek.

    "I shall do as you ask, but I have conditions. I died once, I''m not dying again."

    "We can accede to that."

    "And I want powers, if you are sending me to kill gods, you better give me some powers"

    "We have already planned to do so, but yes, we will provide you with the strength to take them down."

    "And I want to keep them, after I''m done. And I want to be rich."

    "That... will be fine."

    "And I want knowledge, of the gods, and of the world that you are sending me to."

    "You are testing our patience little one. We could simply send you there right now."

    "Go ahead, but I''m guessing from the fact that you made me for this purpose, that you intend for me to fulfill it. Why not secure a guarantee?"

    "We are listening."

    "And this shall be a compact in the manner of the one that binds you to non-interference, and I don''t want any sort of deal with the devil bullshit. You agree to this, you agree to the spirit of this contract."

    "Very well."

    That went easier than expected

    "Isn''t there some kind of black and white? Something to sign off on?"

    "You have no hands. What are you going to hold a pen with?" The youthful voice laughs.

    "A compact like that doesn''t just binds us, it binds you too. And if we were to enter into one as such, there needs to be some parameters."

    Gentle mother isn''t always gentle after all.

    "Like what."

    "30 years. Kill them within 30 years. You were given 30 years on Earth. We shall give you 30 years there."

    Do gods have an inherent love of symmetry?

    "Fine. I''ll swear it... is that how it''s done?"

    "No, open your mind, and say the words as they come to you."

    And us four say in unison,

    "I swear by dead who are not alive, and the living who will not die, by the first division and last unification, by the beginning and the end."

    There is a change in the air. I can feel it in my very being, like a will imposed on formless clay. I''m still that clay, but now I feel bound to another form. Is this the ancient compact that they spoke of?

    "I now give to you my power, the all-power, the lightning and the thunder. Take it and lay waste to the oath-breakers."

    "And I shallfill you with my essence of life everlasting, that no death nor disease nor weakness of body shall afflict you."

    "And I will convey you to a vessel wealthy and influential, that you may have no want for food nor love nor luxury."

    A great and terrible feeling rises in me. A strength which I had not known, and a vitality which I had not experienced, resonates in my will. Knowledge of the world I''m being sent to floods my mind.

    "Come."

    The youthful voice beckons and I follow. My whole being is gripped suddenly, I feel myself being squeezed and compressed. Then suddenly, I''m hurled into the vastness of space and time. The old man and the gentle lady disappear from my consciousness like motes of dust into the wind. Where I was, what I was, I no longer am.

    <hr>

    Countless stars and endless nebulae pass through me. They are beautiful but fleeting. It is as if I''m on a bus travelling through the rain, and all manner of astronomical phenomena, which I cannot even begin to comprehend, are but raindrops streaming pat the window.

    This is warp speed. Hahaha!

    But something feels wrong. The vice held me earlier does not let up, the pressure that has been pressing against me keeps growing. I now sense a presence travelling with me, a presence that I recognize as the youth.

    Why is he here?

    The knowledge that was gifted to me earlier told me that his presence here, with me, was far from normal. His involvement should have ended to moment I was sent onwards, and yet, here he is.

    "Because I want what you have, or more accurately, what you are going to have."

    What I will have? Does he mean my powers? Life everlasting? Wealth?

    Hold on. The vessel. My intended vessel!

    "You would violate your oath?! You would be no better than the gods you seek to destroy!"

    "Don''t lump me with those motherfucking cocksuckers. Did I get that right? I''m not the one who wanted to destroy those gods. I couldn''t care less what they did. Come now, let me relieve you of your burden."

    I feel myself being torn apart. The terrible power that I had was taken away, slowly at first, then all at once. It is as if I was being tied to four great steeds, and the ropes were suddenly pulled. I feel every strain and every rip. The pain is indescribable.

    Then, I gave way.

    "For what it''s worth, I like you, this version of you anyways. You made me laugh. So I won''t take away everything. You memories? You keep it. Ah! look, my dear Edward, we have arrived. How wonderful a world! Too bad you won''t be able to enjoy it!"

    The last of my strength is sapped from me. The despicable youth throws me by the wayside. I sense his presence, great and powerful, moving like shadow towards the now fast approaching world.

    Once again, I fall.

 3 Birth in Salt

    ~Edward~

    I''m being held by warm hands. The soul rending pain that was inflicted on me remains fresh in my mind and a dull achecreeps through my body.

    As I take in a breath, a smell of blood and salt lingers. As I open my eyes, I find my gaze being drawn to a couple of flickering lights in the corner. My surroundings are dim, it must be night. There is a gentle sussurrus of water and whispers.

    Humanvoices and ocean waves.

    It is a familiar and nostalgic sound.

    I''m alive! I can feel! I can hear! I can see!

    I laugh, but what escapes me is not my voice, but rather, a baby''s chuckle. A body of newborn. Well, beggars can''t be choosers.

    Wait. What is holding me?

    Giant hands, correction, normal hands. The perspective of a newborn is foreign to me, but I guess as a baby, even normal sized hands feel like the palms of a giant. They hold me gently, and I feel the sudden urge to cry. A wave of mixed emotions overcome me - joy, relief, shock and sorrow.

    Oh thank god.

    I look up, and a pair of amber eyes look back at me - A face of a woman I do not recognize. She smiles and tears begin to well up in both our eyes. She holds her gaze, and I nudge myself into her arm.

    Is this my mother? Should I smile back? Is it weird just looking at her like this?

    Wow. My mom is beautiful. In a past life I would probably have asked her out. Is that strange? Despite the visible fatigue around her eyes and a sweat lined forehead, her features are striking. High cheekbones, full lips, and gentle aquiline nose. Her hair is disheveled but thick and dark as the night, which only accentuated her alabaster skin.

    If half of that passed down to me, I''ll be pretty handsome too. I wonder how I look like now. Hmm, my skin is red, but I guess all babies are born red.

    The warmth from her arms radiate through me, and as she brings me closer to her, I begin to fade in a drowsy haze. She rocks me gently, all whilst singing.

    Her voice breaks, but the melody carries. She must have screamed herself hoarse in my birth. Soon, the voices of others join in the tune. I cannot make out the words, but it feels deep and sorrowful, like the memories of a past love now long gone. With the song in my ears, I surrender to a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

    <hr>

    Damn it all to hell! Why is the child alive?

    Lord Ney paced about his cabin, bellicose and grim, which stood at odds with his figure, for he had neither an ounce of gravitas or presence. He was small in stature, dark of complexion, fair-haired with a bulbous nose and thin lips.

    From afar, he was more rat than man. Had you met him on the street, you would''ve paid him no attention, for he was as forgettable as he was ugly.

    But that''s only if you didn''t notice his eyes, for he, like all in Ney line, had inherited the purple irises of his forebears, unique in the whole kingdom.

    The very same eyes could be seen in the child that was just born of the slave girl.

    Why didn''t the poison take effect? I saw her drink it!

    As to why he was so vexed at the birth of his child, he did not see the child as such. To him, the child was evidence of his malfeasance, one that could be punishable by death.

    The girl was supposed to arrive unspoiled and untouched. A peerless beauty, even amongst his country''s standards. Axum Sunfire, the child''s mother, was a gift from one king to another. The moment he received her, she came under the jurisdiction of Acadia - the personal property of the Acadian King.

    His Acadian King.

    The King was not known to be forgiving.

    But the journey was long, and he was so very lonely. It was but a moment of weakness.

    Now, it could be a lifetime of regret.

    <hr>

    The lower decks of the Fair Ladyhad been re-purposed to transport slaves. Where it was originally used to store cargo and rations, it now held men in chains. Almost all the cabins had been torn down to free up for space. After all, more space meant more men.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Yet one cabin remained, for within it was one slave of far greater value than the others - a prize, worthy of a king.

    Ney entered the hold with small regiment of marines by his side, and they shuffled softly through the mess of slaves chained to floorboards. Thankfully, it was before dawn and most of them were still asleep.

    Yet unease never left Ney. Slaves as they may be, they outnumbered the crew ten to one. There was more than five hundred slaves, there were only fifty shipmates.No amount of arms could overcome that advantage.Entering the hold was akin to putting one''s head into the mouth of a lion.

    The marines by his side were not for show.

    Ney slid into the cabin and snatched from Sunfire''s arms her child.

    The evidence.

    The sudden and screeching cries of Sunfire dissipated the fog of silence that had descended upon the slaves as they slept. A few began to rouse, then a few more. Soon the entire hold was abuzz.

    Murmurs grew into a cacophony, pierced by the occasional angry shouts. Ney and his marines made haste towards the upper deck. Their path was becoming narrower and narrower. The slaves were closing in.

    The chains that were meant to bind them now looked like weapons.

    Ney took a blade from a marine beside him and immediately slashed at nearby slave, who promptly collapsed in a heap of spurting blood and anguish.

    "DO NOT CROSS ME!", Ney shouted. There was a desperation in his voice.

    The slaves were momentarily repressed by his outburst, and Ney pushed them further back with his wild swinging. He then took a defensive formation with the rest of the marines, their backs to each other with their blades facing out. Only then, could they make their way back to the upper deck, newborn in tow.

    <hr>

    The problem was that too many people knew. The crew certainly knows, the mother, and of course, the other slaves who were in the hold. Everyone knew, and here in front of him was a piece of corroborating evidence. As it was now, he would be at best exiled from court, at worst stripped of his titles. Even the possibility of being executed entered his mind.

    This was a gift from another country, a gift which he personally oversaw If his king knew of his mischief, no doubt he would rather send him to the block than risk a diplomatic faux pas.

    He grabbed the child off the bed and held it in front of him. Eye to eye.

    "Maybe I can salvage this. If you were gone. I could bribe the crew, I''ll buy out the rest of the slaves. No one would know." Ney said to the baby.

    The child simply looked at him, with those damned purple eyes. Never before had Lord Ney hated his inheritance more so than now, and his face twists ever so slightly, like a man trying to mask the taste of something bitter. The child simply looked on.

    What about the girl, the mother? How could I possibly count on her silence?

    He knew what he did. He knew that she probably didn''t want it. He was not naive enough to think that she wouldn''t turn on him the very chance she got. Her desperate reaction to him taking the boy - he was plenty guilty of many acts, but he never felt more sorry than when he had to kick her away, with her child in his hands.

    There is no way out.

    He put the child back and began pacing once more.

    No! I will not believe it! I crawled my way to court, endured a thousand slights, just to be done in by one small misstep?

    Whatever the case, any plan could not start without the elimination of the evidence. That thought which had snaked around in the recesses of his mind had finally been acknowledged and accepted. This child cannot live.

    I''ll find a way to convince the mother.

    Oh god, forgive me.

    <hr>

    ~Edward~

    Oh c''mon. I''m just a fucking baby.

    What kind of joke is this? First I get killed by my co-worker, then sent to a place which I didn''t want to go in the first place, then betrayed on some other entity/god/asshole''s whims, and left for dead or the kind of death that an existence without form would experience.

    I finally get a second second chance, or is it third chance, and now I get to be killed again?

    Just my fucking luck.

    I know that look. He''s gonna kill me. I don''t understand what he is saying, but he looks like he has resolved himself. He closes his eyes and mutters something... A prayer perhaps?

    I want to scream. I want to shout. I want to curse. All I can manage is a glare.

    This is such bullshit.

    He looks to a basin off to the side. A washbasin? Oh please no, not your goddamn dirty bathwater! He moves gingerly towards it.

    He lowers me into it. It is cold and foul.

    I begin to panic. This is the worst. What else can I do? I can barely move... anything. Will crying help? I work up a wail. It''s louder than anything I''ve heard, louder than the wood creaking, louder than the wind howling, its louder than the waves crashing.

    For a moment it stuns my would be murderer. It is but a moment. Then water engulfs me.

    <hr>

    ~Ney~

    As I lower him into the basin I face less resistance than I expected. He can''t cry underwater. Now, he just looks at me.

    What am I doing?

    My hands grow weak. They tremble. I... I have not taken a life before, and this life - there is no god on this world who would forgive such a sin. I falter. He just looks at me.

    I''m sorry. I''m so sorry... You do not deserve this.

    But I don''t deserve it either. The child, my child grows slack. Yet he still looks at me. I close my eyes. I block off everything. Nothing can reach me, nothing will reach me.

    Three furious knocks rouse me from my stupor. Someone is banging on the door. I''m still holding the baby down. The knocks come again, louder. I wait.

    "CAPTAIN!"

    The knocks now echo with a the sounds of splintering wood and the clashing of steel.

    Stop interrupting me!

    They do not stop.

    I hesitate. Something in me defies my will and quickly I take the baby out.

    Is he dead?

    The child sputters and coughs. Despite my failure, I''m relieved.

    So this child lives.

    I place him gently onto the bed and lay my covers over him.

    My whole body slumps from exhaustion. The knocks come again, louder now, and I take a deep breath to gather my composure, before opening the door.

    "What is it?!"

    The bosun towers over me, his eyes bloodshot and frantic.

    "Mutiny captain! It is mutiny!"

 4 Mothers Love

    ~~Sunfire~~

    Sunfire had been so named for her dazzling eyes, which had lit many the flame of passion in those that witnessed her. Calling her a peerless beauty would be an understatement.

    Yet, it brought no end to her misery. Men desired her, in fact too many men desired her, and they did not want to share. What they couldn''t have, they simply took.

    So her village was burned, her parents cut down in front of her, and her fiancee thrown to the wolves, all because a rival chieftain wanted her for himself.

    And as it is with men who are ruled by their vices, he was ultimately undone by his desire. For the rival chief spent all his time fawning over her, oblivious to his subject''s growing dissatisfaction. He soon found himself a foot shorter, a head lesser.

    Once again, Sunfire changed hands.

    But her new owners were wary of the mistakes their predecessor had made, and sent her away, conveniently, as a gift to a newly crowned king far across the sea. In their eyes, she was a bringer of misfortune, a vile witch who ensnared all men with black magic. In truth, she was only a girl, powerless in the face of powerful men.

    They were glad to be rid of her.

    The voyage to her new home was long, and yet again she caught the eye of a lustful man.

    She was violated countless times - What was one more? Her loved ones were all dead, her world had crumbled before her, not once but twice, all the while being touched by disgusting hands. An eternity would not wipe the filth she felt on her skin. She had long consigned herself to oblivion.

    Yet when she found out she was with child, she grew fearful. She grew fearful not for her own life, but for the fact that for the first time, in a long time, she had felt something more than self-loathing and pain.

    She had felt love.

    And she was fearful of losing it.

    So she kept her growing belly hidden, and when it could not be ignored, she relied on trickery. ''Medicine'' was given to her to purge her condition, but she spat it out secretly. Men are so easily fooled.

    When the pains came, she prayed. She prayed harder than anytime before, and this was a woman who had done a lot of praying.

    Please... let this child live. Let this child be healthy. Please...

    Her prayers were answered, though it did not seem so at the time. Her baby did not cry, he did not do anything for quite some time. A vice had gripped her heart then, but as the baby looked at her, he chuckled. She knew then that all was right with the world.

    All her grievances, all her miseries, all her pain, in that one moment, had disappeared. This child, her child, was her world now.

    But it was not to be. That lustful man who had taken her so many moons ago, came down to the hold and saw their progeny. He snatched the child from her arms.

    Her child.

    This she could not allow.

    <hr>

    The cargo hold is oddly quiet. Save for the waves outside, no noise was made. Yet in the hold were dozens of people, towards the aft stood the mutinied slaves, towards the bow, and the hatch to the deck, was the captain, the crew and the marines. The hatch itself was heavily barricaded on the outside, with the marines looking in.

    A strange no man''s land had naturally formed between the two parties, and no one made a move to cross that imaginary barrier.

    Both stared the other down, and no one said a single word. The silence was deafening.

    Lord Ney crossed the barricade and approached the other side. All eyes were on him.

    The wall of slaves that had blocked his view parted, revealing a lone woman, Sunfire, holding a torch. She was holding it dangerously close to the supplies - barrels of rum and crates of hardtack.

    The captain opened his palms, hands extended below his waist, towards Sunfire. He was slightly hunched over, almost as if he were doing a curtsey. He moved towards her deliberately and slowly.

    "Put the torch down, my girl, and we can talk."

    Ney takes a step forward. He notices that the crates and the barrels have been splashed with oil - no doubt taken from the stores further below.

    "Where is my son!"

    Sunfire''s hand inches closer to the supplies. Small embers drop onto the nearest crate below, scorching out tiny spots of blackened wood. The oil does not catch fire.

    "Okay, okay, calm down."

    "I''ll be calm when I see my son"

    "And you will, I''ll bring him to you. Just stay calm, and please..."

    Ney gestures towards the crates of hardtack and rum.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "... it would do neither of us any good if it all burns down"

    Sunfire''s hand stays as precariously close as ever. She does not move.

    "Then bring me my son. Now!"

    <hr>

    ~~Ney~~

    This is catastrophe!

    The blasted woman will be the death of me! How the hell did this happen? When I last left them, they were still chained! Sure, they might have been a little angry, but no anger could overcome cold steel. Someone on the crew must aided them. That whore must have opened her legs for another man, the slut that she is. If I find them... No. This is not the time to indulge in hate fantasies.

    Calm down Ney. This is no time to panic.

    Okay. What are my options?

    If I give her the child, she probably wouldn''t set fire to the ship, on account of his life. But we''ll still be held hostage, after all they have no reason to give us control over the hold.

    What could they possibly accomplish? They have the hold, yes, but we have the deck. The ship is still headed to port - and once we are there, no amount of threats will prevent the authorities from seizing the ship. I could simply delay.

    But we are still three weeks out. Without food the voyage would undoubtedly be grim. Without water, there is no chance we would last the week.

    Could we overpower them? We have 50 men. They have 500. If it were not for the fact that we still hold the hatch, we would''ve been long gone.

    So I''m screwed either way. Not to mention that I''ll be doubly screwed when the King finds out about me and her. Are those the only options available to me? To give or not to give the child back? What else do I have at my disposal?

    C''mon Ney. Think!

    She is just as screwed as me. I give her the child, she holds on to the supplies, and then what? The crew and I die of thirst. She is stranded two weeks away from port. Everybody dies.

    I give her the child, she releases the hold, we arrive at port. Well, the rest of the slaves would be put to death for sure, mutiny being one of the crimes even the king could not pardon.

    Either we all die. Or the slaves die, and I''m disgraced. If I had to choose... well, there is only one choice isn''t there. I need to give her the child.

    Before I know it, I''m back in my quarters. The child, still under the blankets, stirs.

    <hr>

    ~~Sunfire~~

    When her child taken from her, she despaired. She knew that her child would be in danger. She knew that Ney had intended harm towards him. She knew that she had to act. This was no time to cry.

    And so she lured a crew mate, the one with the keys, over. A smile and a simple come hither gesture was all it took.

    As he grabbed her roughly and began to strip his clothes, she put her chained hands behind his neck. Using her right leg, she tripped him forwards towards her, wrapping her chains around his throat. The crew mate fell, but she maintained her hold and used every ounce of her strength to pull the chains tighter around his neck.

    As her fellow slaves looked on, some drew the courage to join in. They piled on top of him, and beat him with their hands. More joined in, and they found more targets when the rest of the crew went down to investigate.

    There was no plan, no forethought whatsoever. The slaves were scared and angry. All their fears, all their hate, all their sorrows had erupted in a sudden explosion of violence. Ney taking the child had was kindling for an anger within them. Sunfire''s attack provided the spark.

    Yet they knew their mutiny could not last. They were on a ship, surrounding by the unforgiving seas. There was nowhere to escape. All they had done was a trade a lifetime of servitude for a moment of freedom. If they were not before, they were certainly resigned to death now. But that stood at odds with what Sunfire wanted, she wanted to live, and she wanted her child to live.

    While she waited for the captain to return with her son, she passed a message to the slaves beside her, and those slaves passed that message down.

    "Please, do you know a way to save my child?"

    A towering man, with fire-red hair and the same amber eyes of her kin came forward.

    "There is whaleboat suspended astern, but to get to it we need to get through the deck. But sister, the deck is where rest of the crew are. If we fight them, we may not win."

    Murmurs between the slaves grew louder as they realized there was hope that they could be delivered from death.

    "Astern, that''s the back of the ship? We have the crew mates axes, can''t we just cut through?"

    Sunfire was grasping at straws.

    The murmurs grew louder, and there were occasional shouts of agreement to her suggestion.

    The man looked around in sorrow.

    "There is only space for twenty on the boat."

    The murmurs quickly subsided. There were more than five hundred souls on board, excluding the crew. The gravity of their circumstances hit them hard.

    No one said what everyone knew - almost all of them would perish.

    "Sister! You go on the boat! Go with your child!", a sudden shout came from the crowd. Sunfire looked to see who it was.

    Suddenly, the youngest amongst them were pushed to her.

    "Take them!"

    The youths fought to go back into the throng, but the rest of the slaves would not allow it. One by one, more youths were thrust forward. They were the sons, the daughters, the younger brothers and the younger sisters of the slaves.

    "Ma, please! I wanna stay here with you. You promised we would stay together!"

    A young girl, who was pushed forward, sobbed. It was met with many similar cries.None of them could hold back their tears. Being chosen meant having a chance to live, but it also condemned the rest of their loved ones to death.

    "Quickly! We don''t have much time! Take the axes!"

    The red haired man beckoned the crowd, and strong men, fathers all, joined him in chopping a way to the boat behind.

    Sunfire then took a torch in hand, and gathered the supplies in the cargo hold. The others slaves formed a protective line, all of them waited for the captain to come back to them.

    <hr>

    ~~Ney~~

    As he came down the deck with the baby, Lord Ney was greeted with a peculiar sight. The crates that were previously held hostage had been brought forward, in front of the slaves. Sunfire no longer held the torch close to them.

    "Give me my child. You can take your supplies."

    What this? She loses all leverage if she does this.

    Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ney quickly stepped forward and handed the child over. He called for the rest of the crew to come down and carry the provisions away.

    "No! Only you can carry them out."

    Has she gone mad? Is this how she wants to punish me? The slaves step forward menacingly.

    "Okay! okay. I''ll carry them out. It will just take more time. You, the rest of the crew can do this much faster, we''ll be out of your-"

    "ONLY YOU!"

    "Okay, fine, I get it."

    But he didn''t get it. He couldn''t wrap his head around it. Regardless, he had to secure the provisions. Well he didn''t even need to carry them all the way out, he just needed to push them to the entrance, the rest of the crew would know what to do. In his mind, it would only take the better part of a day to finish this.

    What on earth is she thinking?

    Well, maybe they just wanted a few moments of freedom. No doubt they would have secured enough food for themselves already. It would be a high price to pay though, for this short a reprieve.

    Savages will be savages.

    As Ney pushed the last of the provisions back to the hatch, a deafening crack of wood splintering echoed through the hold. Then a splash. He raced up to the deck, only to find the rest of the crew crowding the aft of the ship.

    "They have taken the whaleboat!"

    Ah! So that''s why. She was buying them time.

    Fire and smoke engulfed the ship shortly after.

 5 Reprieve at Sea

    In the distance, the wreck of theLegacy glowed brightly. If one could block out the screams of those being burnt alive and the groans of a great galleon breaking into flotsam, the scene could almost be described as beautiful.

    How small and precious it seemed from a distance, like a little flickering light against a canvas of churning black waves.

    Sunfire, and slave children that were with her, wept as they looked on at the horror of the burning ship. Everyone they knew was on it.

    In her arms, she held her child. Everything she had desired, she had accomplished. She was alive, her son was alive. She should''ve been happy.

    But all she could think when looking at the fire, was that the man who saved her had hair in a similar shade. She blamed herself for not even asking his name. Like so many tonight, he would be lost to the sea, nameless but not forgotten.

    Never forgotten

    She and the rest of the children huddled together and cried themselves to sleep.

    <hr>

    Nothingness.

    That''s what greeted Sunfire and the slave children when they awoke. A whole ocean of nothingness. Not even a single piece of driftwood. No sounds, nor smell, nor vision of what happened the night before remained.

    "Let''s go back. There''s space on this boat. See?"

    A girl, a small and frail little thing, shouted with wet eyes. She tried to squeeze herself next to her companions, in an attempt to make space. Yet space there was not. She was jostled back into place by the sullen youth next to her.

    "Why did Elder choose you to come with us? My brother was stronger, he was smarter -"

    The sullen youth poked the girl''s shoulder, harshly, with his finger.

    "- and he wouldn''t cry."

    The girl started wailing. Soon the rest of the children joined in.

    Sunfire suckled her baby with one hand, and comforted a child sitting next to her with her other. She was the only adult here, but she was at a loss of what to do.

    The ones who weren''t crying looked towards her for guidance. ''Tell us what to do, tell us how we are going to fix this,'' was what their eyes said.

    She couldn''t find the words. She didn''t think there were any words that could be found that would save these orphans from their grief.

    But perhaps grief can be distracted, maybe even channeled.

    She gestured for one the supply crates to be opened. They then distributed the ship biscuits and the sour milk. An enterprising young lad had made a slit into the top of the keg the night before, now all they had to do was to tilt it and open their mouths. The cries became dry sobs, then disappeared entirely.

    As the children finished their meal, Sunfire mused upon her predicament. For once in her life, there were people depending on her, people who didn''t desire her body. Well, her baby wanted her breast, but that''s another kind of want.

    She was a mother not two days past, and try as she may, she couldn''t suddenly be this dependable, wise, maternal figure that the rest of the children was hoping her to be.

    So she didn''t, she simply told them what was on her mind.

    "The tall and strong man, the one with the fire red hair, what was his name?"

    The children looked at one another. One spoke out, "He''s from my village! He''s uhh... I don''t know his real name, but we all called him Tiger."

    Sunfire began to carve the letters for ''Tiger'' onto the top of the crate in front of her. She then carved her own name after that.

    "Take this knife, and write your names on this. Then write the names of your older brothers, your older sisters. Write the names of your fathers and your mothers and aunties and uncles. Write the name of everyone who was on the ship, so that none of us will forget them."

    "Do you think they are still alive?", the small girl from earlier cried out, her voice seemed smaller.

    "I don''t know"

    "Then we should go back!"

    "I don''t know which way back is."

    There was never any hope, but with that one line, Sunfire had silenced all of them. A hush descended upon the boat, occasionally interrupted by the buffeting gales of the ocean. That hush signaled a tacit acceptance - what they lost, they would not get back.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The children on the boat silently carved their names and the names of the people they knew onto the crate. When one side was filled, they moved on to another.

    Tears welled up occasionally, when they were carving the names of those closest to them. But they were fervent in their labor and never stopped save for food and the dark of night.

    It took them five days to carve them all.

    <hr>

    ~~Edward~~

    So here I am, in the middle of the ocean. With my mother and 19 other brats. Are we lost? I think we are lost. The most action the oars have seen is when they were used to pry open the crates.

    At least this is a damn sight better than being drowned in dirty bathwater. And hey, I don''t even have to eat... whatever my shipmates are eating. What is that, anyways, its looks more like the crate it came in than actual food. I think some of the kids actually envy me.

    Well, considering that I still have a mom, that isn''t surprising. Heh.

    Now before you groan, remember I diedonce before, okay? It was painful and horrifying, and being dead means you lose your family. In the reverse way.

    Whatever, I''m a fucking baby, it''s not like I can talk or anything, so who gives a shit.

    I think the reason why I''m feeling so ornery is that I can''t do a damn thing. I can''t stand, I can''t crawl, and in the boat I can''t even roll around. I guess that''s why babies are crying all the bloody time.

    But I hate crying, and its not because I think crying is weak or anything like that; its just that I don''t think needing to take a shit warrants me breaking out a wail, just so mommy dearest can wipe my arse. By the way, the feeling of shitting your pants/loincloth/diaper, I don''t think I''ll ever get used to it.

    So I''m proud to say, My mom and I, we worked out our very own system. I can''t say words yet but I can blurb out things like ''mama'', sometimes its ''baba'', but you get the drift.

    I catch her attention then grab her finger or the cloth that she''s wearing and she tries to figure out what I want. The first few times were pretty rough but we pretty much got it down to a science. She would pick me up, smell me first, then put my mouth to her boob. Sometimes, she misses the smells - the salt of the ocean and the stench from the rest of the kids can be too strong, so I just turn my face away and I don''t know how else to say this - cheek my mother''s breast.

    Calling her mom, or more accurately, thinking of her as my mom also feels weird.

    I already have... had a mom. What did the old guy say? That I''m an "approximation" ? How does one deal with that?

    It''s not like me know that I''m not actually Edward suddenly makes those memories irrelevant. I miss my mom, my real mom.

    I miss her long and windy texts with atrocious spelling. I miss the overcooked rice that she always makes. I miss that she calls me ''Ah boy'' even when I''m a grown ass man.

    I''m never going to see any of my past life again, aren''t I? My old apartment, my old company, my old P.C. All gone.

    You are all I have, new mom. I guess I''m all you have too. So let''s make a deal, I''m going to do my best to love you like my old mom. Will you not love me like she did?

    <hr>

    On the night the third week, Sunfire woke suddenly. This time, it was not her child needing food or change, it was a deep, shrieking howl of a sharp wind ahead of them. With only the a cresent moonlight to guide her eyes, Sunfire was struggling to see what she was hearing.

    A storm.

    Then a flash of light illuminated the whole sky and broke upon the waves like a thousand tiny shining jewels. The storm was ahead of time. Sunfire counted the seconds to the inevitable thunder that was coming.

    1...

    2...

    3...

    4...

    5...

    A bellow not unlike the low growling of giant tiger resounded through the entire boat, shaking the very bones of those within.

    "CHILDREN! WAKE UP-"

    Sunfire hastily ran towards each child, those who were still asleep were shook violently awake.

    They had some time yet. She quickly scrounged for whatever rope she could find, even ripping some of the children''s clothes, then she bound all of them together. But twenty was far too many, their rope too little, and the storm closing in too fast.

    When a second flash bore witness to the size of the tempest in front of them, all the children joined in in the tying.

    "Whatever is empty, throw it out!"

    A rogue wave hit them then, it was larger than theLegacyitself.

    "HOLD ON TO EACH OTHER!" Sunfire voice fought with the screams of the wind. For a moment the boat was lurched upwards and turned till it stood vertical on its end. All of them crashed into a heap at its ''bottom''.

    Then the vessel dropped.

    And the might of the storm hit them.

    Water flooded the ship. Sunfire was thrown like rag-doll, and hit the back of her head against the inner hull. A sharp pain blacked out her vision, and she lost her grip. It was but for an instant.

    Where is my son?

    In the chaos, Edward had been flung out of the boat. He floated, but his head kept going under the water, and with each passing second, he was drifting further away.

    Sunfire instinctively stood up, trying to prepare to swim to her child, but her leg was caught beneath a crate that has rolled over. Utter panic overcame her.

    She wanted to scream her son''s name, but she had not named him yet. So she just screamed. It was then that one of the older children, jumped into the churning waves.

    The rain and the salt stung her eyes yet she forced them open to see. She saw nothing but the storm.

    Oh please oh please oh please.

    Then one head, and then two, rose beneath the waters.

    That child had done it!

    As he swam backwards towards the boat, with Edward in both his arms, Sunfire secretly thanked the gods. She looked around, the storm was still raging, but it seemed a little quieter now. Somehow, in all that madness, everyone else remained in the ship. Their supplies were not lucky.

    Only one crate of hardtack and a barrel half filled with sour milk remained.

    After what seemed like an eternity, the storm finally passed. The children never did let go, their knuckles white from the exertion.

    Sunfire recalled the name of her son''s savior - Oromia, and made a secret promise to repay him someday.

    <hr>

    When dawn broke, the twenty passengers of the Legacy''s whaleboat bore witness to their first sightings of seabirds on the horizon. The color of the waters had grown lighter, from a deep dark blue to a more clearer turquoise. They were all still exhausted from the storm last night, but they somehow found the strength to look. It was a strength borne of hope.

    The shore must be close!

    A nervous energy spread through the little vessel. As it bobbed up and down with waves, all twenty of them strained their eyes in all directions for signs of land.

    What they spotted instead was a schooner, bearing the unmistakable colors of their previous ship - a golden lion awash a crimson shield. The colors of House Ney.

    The colors of their previous captor.

 6 Fathers Resolve

    Fire is incredibly loud. It is louder than the screams of men burning, its louder than the mighty timbers of a ship breaking, its louder than the surge of the waves crashing.

    The crew of the Legacy was doomed the moment fire took control of their ship. Lord Ney knew this fact better than most of his crew, for in its manifest was a bounty of purified whale oil, enough to light an entire kingdom for a year.

    At the first sign of smoke, he tasked a select few, his bosun, Andrei, the ships carpenter, Loxley, and the cook, Serra to gather what they could. The fire was spreading, and the slaves were gushing towards the barricade in one final wave of suicidal violence. There might be some time yet.

    Both his mind and hands worked quickly. He was no natural seaman, having bought his position, but he knew enough to know that his survival hinged upon two things - water and heat. Which was strange considering he was going to be quickly surrounded by both.

    When parts of the deck floor began crumble into the inferno in the hold below, he knew it was time. It was do or die. Loxley had hastily tied together some crates and barrels, no reasonable man would call it seaworthy, let alone a raft, but it was all they got.

    The four of them pushed the contraption off the side, before jumping off themselves. As they clambered on for safety, the wreck lit up in a spectacular blaze. The rest of the oil had ignited all at once. The tower of fire in front of them shone so bright that all of them instinctively drew their hands up to cover their eyes. The resulting heat radiating from the wreck boiled the water off their arms, and left blisters on areas that were exposed. Ney, Andrei and Loxley, who managed to crawl to the far side of the makeshift raft were spared its intensity. Serra was not so lucky, he boiled in his own skin.

    Today, hell visited the crew of the Legacy.

    <hr>

    Sounds of vicious splashing awoke Ney. He groaned from the dull pain that came with consciousness - he had been burnt, from the right side of face all the way down to his right arm. Someone had wrapped his head. He knew the pain would be worse the more sober he got. He groaned reflexively. Biting down on his agony, he took a peek at what had woken him in the first place.

    A flash of teeth. A thrashing in the waters.

    "Shark...SHARK!"

    Andrei and Loxley scrambled out of sleep, making similar groans. Ney knew the pain they were feeling intimately, but that pain would be nothing compared to sharks ripping one from limb to limb.

    "Quickly men! QUICKLY!"

    They had no oars!Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "Break the crates!, we''ll use the wood to paddle away"

    All three of them were in a flurry. Adrenaline took over and the world slowed around them. It was as if time itself became a thick river in which every action had to fight against. They saw the splinters flying. They saw the food spoil into the deep. They saw droplets of blood, theirs, striking the surface of the waves.

    Then they saw one fin turning towards them in the distance.

    Shit!

    Ney ran over to Serra, and for a moment he paused.

    I''m sorry for this.

    In one swift movement, he threw the deceased Serra into the path of the speeding shark. A churning of red masked the horrific carnage. The men slowly paddled away, unaccosted.

    <hr>

    ~~Ney~~

    "So what now Cap''n?", Andrei asks. There is a nervousness in his voice.

    Well, we''re screwed. Completely screwed. Maintain your composure. Antoine Albrecht Ney, you are their lord and captain. You will not show weakness. You must not show it.

    After all, it was your weakness that caused this calamity no?

    I wince at my own thoughts. Indeed, I had caused this. Me and my damned cock. Do they blame me? I look for any hatred, any anger, in the eyes of my two remaining men. I find none.

    "Cap''n... Cap''n!", Andrei pulls me out of my stupor.

    "Yes, ahem... yes, tell me, what do we have left"

    "There''s not much cap''n. Most of the crates here are empty, you know, for being less likely to sink and such. Most of the food, we lost earlier in the thing with the sharks and all. We got two casks of ale left though", Andrei replied, in a matter-of-fact way.

    "And the condition of the shi- uhh... raft?"

    "She''ll hold, sir, so long as we don''t run into any storms or rogue waves. We have enough spare rope here to secure the rig if she becomes undone, we''ll be safe for a time.", this time, it was Loxley who answered.

    I take out a loaf of bread that I had stashed down my coat and break it into four equal parts. I hand both of my men a piece each. Their eyes widen.

    "The fourth piece we will save for bait, Loxley, was it? Can you fashion a trap, not for lobsters, but for fish?"

    "I can give it a go, Captain"

    "We''ll stay here for a couple of days. Then we''ll head back to the wreck. -"

    I take out a compass, wet my finger and put it to the air.

    "I''d say the wind is blowing us sou-sou-west, we''ll have to row back in the opposite direction. The sharks should be gone by then, but god willing, there should be some scavenger fish lingering."

    "But Cap''n, if you know the direction, why not just - "

    "-Head for shore, Andrei? This rig will never make it past the inlet. The waves there are twice as high and twice as strong. We would be scattered like chaff, even before having sight of land-

    I pause, letting my words sink in.

    "-but you and Loxley, both of you have been at sea longer than I have lived. If both of you say that we have a chance to cross the inlet safely, in this... contraption, then I say let''s do it."

    Both Andrei and Loxley remain silent.

    "The best hope we''ve got, is to head back to the wreck, and pray that someone saw us. That fire must have lit up the entire horizon, and this is trade wind season, there must be ships out there."

    "And what do we do there captain, other than try to fish? Do we just wait?"

    "No. We pray. Have faith Loxley. God is watching over us, how else would we be alive, when the rest of our brothers are dead?"

    Their faces soften, and I see a glint of hope in the shine of their eyes. In that moment, I wanted to tell them sorry, a million times sorry.

    If it were not for my indiscretions...

    The ones who I were truly sorry for were gone, consigned to the deep. But this is no time for such weakness.

    I was right. We were picked up a mere five days later.

 7 Deal

    Antoine Albrecht Ney knew how people looked at him. He knew all his life. The Black Rat, they called him, if they spoke of him at all. He was ugly, frail, and far from charismatic. He couldn''t hold a greatsword, a nigh absolute requirement for all highborn men in the kingdom, he couldn''t even ride a horse - his legs were too short to mount it. He had long since become inured to the harsh tongues and harsher looks of the court, for none were more harsh than his father, the late Lord Ney.

    Yet his father loved him deeply, and while strict, he was never deliberately cruel. But as a lord of a barren land, he had to play the game at court. The survival of their estate depended on him gaining the favors of the high and mighty of the Acadian Kingdom. Bringing his son along was out of the question.

    As much as he loved his son, he was secretly ashamed of him. And so he hid his son''s absence at court with excuses and outright lies. Antoine only found out by chance, when he perused his father''s letters.

    He was angry. He was angry at his father, who had never once had he made him feel so worthless as he felt now. He was angry at the world, for hating him over something he did not choose. He was, most of all, angry at himself - for being weak. They never exchanged words over this and henceforth, it was as if a great rift had opened up between father and son, filled with all the things they would not say to one another.

    If only he was stronger, better.

    If only he wasn''t his father''s son.

    So he pursued strength in his every waking moment, in the only available manner left to him. If they called him rat, he shall use it to his advantage. He worked in the shadows, making secret deals, trading favors, doing what others deemed too beneath them. He was a master of slavery, a procurer of forbidden delights and, most importantly, a generous moneylender.

    When the opportunity arose for him to fulfill his king''s desire - a peerless beauty, he was the first to offer his services.

    He had spent a fortune on this gamble. Commissions did not come cheap, not to mention the ship itself, the wages of the crew and the ship''s provisions. He had hoped to recover it through the purchase of slaves and the rare whale oil.

    He had lost too much to give up now.

    <hr>

    Both Ney and the captain of the Fair Lady, Armaty, sat across from each other, a small desk between them. While both of them bore the striking mahogany skin of Acadians, they could not look more different.

    A rat was sitting next to a lion.

    "A fire had broken out in the lower decks. No one noticed it at first. I blame myself for not enforcing tighter discipline. When it spread to cargo hold... We were carrying purified whale oil. Tons of it."

    Ney''s delivery was surprisingly impeccable.

    "So the red dawn that we saw some nights ago -"

    "That was the oil burning up -"

    Ney paused, drawing Armaty, ever so slightly, in.

    "...and when the sun rose the next day, we set upon by sharks"

    "My god... " A reflexive gasp escaped Armaty. He felt a sudden weight upon his shoulders; the guilt which he had tried to conceal when he rescued them earlier now manifested itself.

    "A rogue wind had blown us out. If I had known, we would''ve made right for you.."

    Ney gently held his hand.

    "You couldn''t have known. If anyone is at fault, it''s me."

    Ney knew then that he had Armaty hook, line and sinker. He only needed to wait for his inevitable offer.

    "If there''s anything I can do for you, you need only ask- "

    "Well, there is the one thing... Did you see a whaleboat past your way here?"

    "I can''t say that I have."

    Ney lower''s his voice, there is no one around, save him and Armaty, but still he whispered, "I would not ask this of a fellow captain, if it were not of the utmost importance. You see, there is a prize on that boat, one that is critical to his majesty''s great matter."

    Armaty knew at once the reason for the discretion. The King''s great matter referred situation regarding the heir to kingdom, or more accurately, the lack thereof. It had been rumored that the King himself was impotent, having gone through three wives, with nothing to show for it. Blame fell on the unfortunate women. Labelled as barren; they were swiftly divorced and ''made quiet''. Apparently all three loved the White Abbey in the far north and entered there as nuns.

    Normally, divorce would have been impossible - even for barren women, but the rules did not apply to the like of his majesty, the king. This ''matter'' was not only delicate, but also incredibly dangerous. To interfere with it would mean interfering with the future of the nation,and some consider that treason. Yet because of its precarious nature, if one were to to secure the next heir, or the next woman who will bear the heir, he would surely rise to great power and influence.

    <hr>

    As the Fair Lady changed her course, Ney took to the deck. He winced at the morning sun, having not seen it in days. The salt air opened up his lungs and invigorated him. It was a welcome reprieve, especially considering that he had cooped himself up in his cabin, planning meticulously for every possible eventuality.

    There was one path he could navigate where all he desired would be his.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Now, he only need wait for that blasted wench to be found.

    In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Andrei and Loxley, they were painting a piece of canvas. So engrossed they were in their endeavor that they did not notice Ney walking over to them.

    They were painting the colors of his house.

    "Ah, apologies cap''n, we took the liberty of asking Sir Armaty if we could hang our colors"

    "He agreed?"

    "Well we wouldn''t be painting it otherwise, would we cap''n?"

    This man. This loyal man. What did I do to deserve such loyalty?

    Ney smiled.

    "I''m no longer a captain. I have no ship."

    "Then you''ll be the first captain without a ship!", Andrei laughed.

    He put the final touches on the flag, before Loxley clambered up the rigging and hung it off the mast. The golden yellow lion shone with the light of the morning.

    "That bread, you could''ve saved it for yourself, but you broke it equal and shared it with us. Never seen anything like it, a highborn toff splitting it with the crew. You will always be our cap''n"

    "Do you blame me?"

    "Sir?"

    Ney looked off into the horizon, he couldn''t bear to see Andrei now.

    "For all that has happened..."

    "No Sir, it''s that witch, that bloody witch, evil must be punished", Andrei seethed with anger.

    Evil must be punished.

    It was the rallying cry of the Acadian nation. It came from their most holy book, but it took on a meaning far more than sacred. To many Acadians, ''Evil must be punished'' was what they heard when murderers were executed. It was what they heard when the king spoke to them of war. It was what they heard when they wanted to end the most vicious of arguments.

    How strange Ney thought, that Andrei would be using it for her. After all, he was the root of that evil.

    The Fair Lady came across the whaleboat, slaves in tow, that very day.

    <hr>

    Axum Sunfire was kept in the brig with her baby; she was sitting on the bed with the child in her lap. Despite all she endured, her beauty remained unmarred. The same couldn''t be said for Lord Ney, who stood across her. He looked like he had aged a decade in a year. A dark canvas covered the iron bars; it obstructed both sight and sound. No one could look in, and more importantly, no one could hear what was transpired between them.

    "Stay silent, and listen", said Ney.

    Sunfire had earlier decided to keep mum as a final sign of protest in the inevitable interrogation to come, but to do so now meant doing exactly as she was told.

    "Your child and the 19 others, I can feed them and I can clothe them. I can see to it that they lead comfortable lives. I can make it so that they want for nothing."

    Ney takes a step closer.

    "That is what you want isn''t it?"

    With one hand, Ney tips Sunfire''s face to his.

    "Or I can rescind my favor and my protection. In that case, you will die. Your son will die, and the 19 other brats can die along with him."

    Sunfire winces at his words, "But then everyone will know what you did... I''ll make sure of it."

    "And how will you do that? We are surrounded by nothing but water. Sure, you can tell the crew, but what they''ll only see is a woman, desperate and crazy, on her way to feed the sharks," Ney mocks.

    A silence descends upon them; a momentary impasse.

    "And what is it that you want?"

    "Oh nothing you haven''t been doing already. Just keep your mouth shut, and your legs open, for our king, that is."

    Resignation and despair take root in Sunfire''s mind. She lost. Against all odds she tried, but she lost. Yet still she had to fight, for the sake of her son.

    "I want him to learn letters... And I want to see him."

    "The first seems easy enough, the second might prove difficult. If someone suspects anything, it would be the undoing of not only you and me, but your child as well."

    "No deal then. You can do this, I just want to see him grow up," Sunfire pleads.

    Ney''s face softens, "Every other year then, I''ll bring him to court every other year. Do you agree to this?"

    Sunfire nods.

    "I''d like to hear it, please."

    "Yes, I agree. Now leave me alone with my son."

    Ney had a jump in his step, Sunfire was now the one who looked aged and tired.

    As Ney left the brig, he could hear a woman''s soft sobbing behind him.

    <hr>

    ~~Ney~~

    The best possible outcome.

    I am at peace. The cost of the children would pale in comparison to what I would receive from the king. And if the girl would bear him a child, well that would be the icing on the cake wouldn''t it? I feel ecstatic as I contemplate the possibilities.

    No longer will anyone think of me as a rat. For once, I''ll be able to hold my head up -

    A sudden knock door interrupts my train of thought. It is Andrei.

    Ah, Good Andrei.

    I most definitely would see him rewarded.

    "Cap''n, why does the witch still live?"

    That question catches me off balance. In all my calculations, I did not account for this.

    "She burnt our ship! Men I consider my brothers died because of her!", Andrei''s voice grows louder and louder. If I''m not careful, there''s a chance my carefully navigated path would crumble into ruin.

    Damn it!

    "There will be a time where we will revenge ourselves on her. Now is not that time."

    I attempt to calm him down. If I can just subdue his anger, have him wait, I can surely make him come around.

    "Cap''n, this... this is not right."

    The dolt! Does he not see it? Bringing Sunfire to justice would be tantamount to killing our golden goose, even before she laid any eggs!

    "You think you are the only one that feels pain, the only one that wants justice? I want it too, just as badly as you do-"

    I move close and grab his shoulders.

    "Be patient, and I promise you, I swear on the honor of my house, we will set this right."

    It is a lie, but it is a good lie, for all our sakes.

    Please, for the love of god, listen!

    A creeping dread latches in the corner of my heart. I feel its snaking tendrils wrapping ever so slowly into my very being.

    "You owe it to all of us. If you won''t pass judgement on her, then I will." There was a finality in his voice.

    "You said that I''ll always be your captain did you not? Now as your captain, I now order you to cease this at once. You are to remain in your cabin till we make port." Maybe his sense of duty will move him.

    Andrei turns around. As he walks out, I make one final appeal.

    "Please, do not do this!"

    He looks back at me, and in the same matter-of-fact way in which he first reported to me about the ships stores, he replies," Evil must be punished."

    That accursed phrase.

    Before I know it, my hand is holding a handle. The handle is that of a knife. And the knife is in Andrei''s throat.

    He looks at me with such a face; first of shock, then of horror and finally of a deep sorrow.

    I let go of the knife, but it''s stuck in his throat. Blood gushes out, and he makes no sound other than a gurgling in his throat.

    What have I done?

    I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry

    I can''t tell if those are my thoughts or if I''m saying them out loud. I cannot think, I cannot conjure any will to action, yet somehow, my body is moving.

    I open the window, and unceremoniously dump him out by the side. I use my sheets to wipe the blood before tossing it out. I check my attire and compose myself. I head for the deck, and wait till the watch is on the far side of the bow before shouting.

    "Man overboard! MAN OVERBOARD!"

    We never recovered Andrei''s body.

 8 Not Sorry

    "Here''s the newest cut according to the client''s feedback", Edward said, while passing a flash drive to Sean.

    Edward had dark rings around his eyes and untidy creases in his long-sleeved shirt. Despite this, he maintained a smile, though it seemed somewhat strained. Who can blame him? He had just spent the entire weekend at the office, rushing out a last minute edit.

    Today was Monday. Friday, Saturday, Sunday. 74 hours of work, interspersed by naps, coffee and cigarettes.

    "What the hell are you wearing? Don''t you iron your clothes? You are too slovenly to meet out clients. Just stay out here, I''ll come out if I have any questions. You better not leave your desk"

    Are you fucking kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? First of all, you don''t get to call me fucking slovenly when it was I who stayed in the office over the fucking weekend. All because you not only couldn''t say just no the fucking client, you had told them they could see the changes by Monday.

    You told them this on a fucking Friday. At 5 pm. And I don''t even want to see the damn clients, they are your clients, not mine.

    And plus, who the fuck uses slovenly, oh-im-so-smart-i-must-use-big-english-words.

    "Did you hear me? I said, I want you to stay here." Sean jabbed his finger at Edward, like some weird cartoonish woodpecker pecking an imaginary tree. Truly a pecker indeed.

    Edward snapped back into reality.

    "Sure thing boss, I''ll be right here."

    Edward''s smile cracked a little.

    Just you wait. One of these days the clients are going to find out that I''m the one doing all the work, and when they do, I''ll be taking all of them.

    Edward died 3 weeks later, just before Halloween.

    <hr>

    ~~Edward~~

    It is barely dawn, the first light has yet to hit the grand estate of house Ney. Almost everyone is asleep.

    Almost.

    I had awoken early, in order to enact my plan of petty vengeance. In my hand, I held a pitcher of piss, filled to the brim. My target? The daughter of my captor - Ravenna Ney, or, as I call affectionately call her, Baby Rat.

    The girl is priggishness incarnate. Ever since I arrived at the estate, she has been relentless in her abuse. I was bullied once, in my past life in secondary school(high school), and I never expected that I would revisiting that experience quite so soon. I had forgotten how cruel children can be.

    Of course, most of it is childish, she is but only eight. If it were only insults and your run-of-the-mill kicks and slaps, I could endure it. But it was more than that. She had been snooping in my room - I had found it searched and trashed several times, with many of my personal possessions missing.

    It was like I had a nosy kleptomaniac little sister.

    Hold on, that''s exactly what it was. The final straw came when I found her mother''s necklace in my drawer. No doubt, she wanted to frame me. I could not ignore the escalation.

    Which brings me to this. A pitcher of piss. You see, to stop her, I figured that I needed to do two things; one, take away her pride, knock her down a few steps, and two, diminish her in the eyes of the real powers of this manor - Lord Rat and Lady Rat. I don''t think any parent would take kindly to their child wetting the bed at age eight.

    Hmm, I shouldn''t call Lady Ney Lady Rat though, she hasn''t done anything against me. Sour faced as she may be, she has always been polite though somewhat reticent. Sometimes in her eyes, I see pity, or is that fear? I wonder if I can use that.

    So every week for the past couple of months, I had snuck into Baby Rat''s room while she was asleep, and poured out the piss on her bed. There were days where I was almost caught by one of the servants who had unexpectedly woken early, sometimes it was my clumsiness almost woke Baby Rat up. But, practice makes perfect, and I had plenty of practice. I crept into her room gingerly, holding the pitcher with both hands. She had clean sheets.

    Not for long.

    I gently poured the pitcher directly onto her bed, careful to avoid splashing the urine on to her, or myself for that matter. As the wet spot on her bed expanded and invaded her clothes, she let out a smile. The piss was still warm, was she dreaming of a hot bath maybe? I stifled my laughter extricated myself silently from the scene of the crime. Attempt number seven was a complete success.

    <hr>

    I feel kinda bad for her. I really do. She is, after all, still a kid. I may look like I''m three, but I have at my disposal thirty years of memories, of a life rife with office politics and academic backstabbing. She had no chance whatsoever.

    I can''t believe it''s been three years.Three years. Three years going on thirty-three.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    To give credit where credit''s due, Lord Rat did not renege on his words.We are both provided for, food, clothing and shelter - a far cry from the conditions that we would''ve expected. Who knew? Even Rats keep their words. Plus, I was even given a tutor, not that I needed it, considering that I already picked up most of the language even before arriving.

    My siblings and I have been treated well, though not alike. I''m more important it seems. I live in the grand manor of the Ney estate, while my siblings live on the far end, in a small but adequate hovel. It is hovel which I routinely visit, especially after a successful mission. Like today.

    "So? How did it go?", Nazret, a young girl of ten, almost shouted in excitement. With her black hair and topaz eyes, she could''ve been my mother''s daughter. The rest of my brothers and sisters huddled around, save a few of the older ones who went about their business.

    "She didn''t even wake up when I left the room." You could hear the smugness in my voice. The rest of the kids giggled with me.

    "Can we play hide and seek before class ?", Negele, who was twice my age, quipped.

    With that one word ''Hide and Seek'', almost all of my siblings ran out laughing. I half wanted to join them in their revelry. That desire was not out of a genuine interest in playing, but rather a sort of wistful happiness that someone who is older gets, when playing with children. They remind me of a more innocent time.

    The class that Negele was speaking of was my attempt to teach them what I knew. I had taught them as much as I could, disguised under the veil of the knowledge I had gleaned from my tutor. In truth, I was teaching them from memory - my memory of a past life. I told them of gravity and celestial bodies, of the laws of thermodynamics Newtonian mechanics, and of germ theory and the theory of evolution. I recounted to them the plays of Shakespeare, the movies of Spielberg; I even told them of Harry Potter. They liked Harry Potter.

    They listened always, with rapt attention - I think they gleaned the importance of what I was trying to do. The memories of being helpless on that ship was shared amongst all of us. I didn''t want any of them to go through that again. I didn''t want them to suffer any more sacrifice for survival. I didn''t want them to be in the power of any other than themselves. Knowledge could be our way out.

    Were it not for me, They would still have their families.

    As I approached the door to join my brothers and sisters in their fun, one of my brothers, Oromia, pulled me aside. Oromia was the eldest at seventeen, and he had acted as a father to all of us; for all our parents , save mine, either burned or drowned in that wreck. Sometimes the rest of my siblings forget, he too lost his parents then. Standing tall at around 1.8 metres, with his piercing blue eyes and dark brown hair, he looked far older than his age. But then again, we all were.

    "Everyday, you come down from the big house to teach us -"

    "Yea, I''ll be collecting tuition fees soon enough, just you wait. I gotta get you all hooked on this ''learning'' thing first, you see." I tried to change the tone of the conversation. I couldn''t bear being thanked by Oromia, or any of my siblings.

    Not when I caused so many deaths.

    Oromia chuckled then gave me a hug.

    "I know what you are trying to do for us little brother. The Lord Rat will only provide for us so long as it is in his interest. We must look out for ourselves."

    Oromia paused as he broke from that hug.

    "I don''t understand why you keep tormenting the Rat''s daughter. We cannot rock this boat yet. Soon, I''ll find myself an apprenticeship with one of the professions. In time, I think all of us will, especially with what you have taught us. And then, we will finally be free of this gilded cage."

    Oromia is kneeling on the ground, his eyes level with mine, his arms on both of my shoulders.

    "So please, just leave her alone. Let us gather our strength in secret. Promise me this."

    Right there and then, I wanted to tell him about how much of a bitch Baby Rat had been, I wanted to tell him of the bullying, the theft and the framing. But I couldn''t. The truth was, I never needed to enact any plan to de-fang the Baby Rat. I did so simple because I wanted to.

    God I hate bullies. But Oromia''sright, he is absolutely right.

    I had given up the forest for the trees. Sure, Baby Rat''s interference could have been an inconvenience for us, but the risks I was taking on bringing her down could have put all of us in danger. What would Lady Rat do if she knew we were messing with her daughter? What would Lord Rat do?

    Well, the only frame of reference I have in this world is my mother, and she burnt down a boat.

    How could I have been so short sighted?

    So I made the promise.

    <hr>

    Edward sat by a massive dining table that could''ve easily seated twenty. Only four were present - Lord Ney, Lady Ney, Ravenna and of course, Edward. This, and with the fact not only was meal itself was extravagant, the whole room was brilliantly lit with candle light from a massive crystal chandelier, gave the entire affair a a strange sense of irony.

    What a waste. Maybe I could save some for my brothers and sisters.

    Edward was not used to being at dinner with the rest of the Neys, he often dined alone in his room, on a small little desk by the window so it could catch the moonlight.

    This dinner had a purpose other than dinner.

    Lord Ney cleared his throat. There was no real need to do so, everyone was waiting for him anyways, given that he was the one who called for this banquet.

    "Starting this week, my little girl, you will be studying with Dawnstar. I have called upon Father Erdos from the capital to instruct you both, together. You have outgrown your current tutor."

    "But Father, he is only three!" Ravenna protested.

    "What of it? The tutor assures me that his proficiency is just as good as yours. Which means that he is just as good as you, an eight year old, or you are only as good as him, a three year old. Well, you sure as hell wet your bed like one."

    God Damn.

    Edward struggled to keep his composure. The sheer joy that welled up within him was only kept at bay with an iron will and face of stone. He never expected such success. Initially, he had planned to goad Ravenna into attacking him publicly. He knew his value as a hostage, suffering a short term pain was a small price for Ravenna to unwittingly interfere with her father''s plans.

    This will do, though. Oromia, I kept my promise. But if what I want is gonna just land in my lap, I''m not so ungrateful to reject it.

    Tears welled up in Ravenna face. She ran off before she cried.

    "You didn''t have to do that, she is your only daughter ", the usually taciturn Lady Ney spoke up.

    "It is because she is my daughter that I need to do this. She is my only trueborn heir. You let up for one moment of weakness, and you can lose everything. I -", Lord Ney glances at Edward, then stops himself.

    "We will talk of this later." A finality in Lord Ney''s tone indicated that he wished to hear no more.

    The argument between the Lord and Lady which was brewing during dinner, erupted at night, and several nights after.

    Edward slept soundly despite the ruckus.

 9 Woebearer

    When Lady Ney first saw Dawnstar, she was reminded of her younger brother. It was a memory filled with shock and grief.

    This was back when she known by another name. Back when she was young and guileless, when the only things that occupied her mind was what she should wear to court. She was Serena Avar, of House Avar, then - a young teenage girl with innocent dreams.

    Her brother, Sebastian, was a few younger than her, and he was heir to the dukedom. He had been fawned over by all, even by Serena herself. Despite the fact that she was often overlooked in favor of her brother, she bore no jealously nor envy towards him. Sebastian always had an easy way of making people love him. All he needed to do was to flash that half-cocked grin, which was paradoxically equal parts sheepish and bold, and all his mischief would be forgiven.

    That changed after the fever. He became quiet and secretive. His eyes had a different quality to them, it was as if he was constantly searching for something, so constantly darting were they. But most of all were the changes to his memory, for he had none. He did not remember his friends, nor he did not remember his parents. He did not remember her.

    The doctor had said that such a phenomenon was rare but not unheard of, and that some had regained their memories after some time.

    Time was all he needed, the doctor said.

    And so, Lord Avar and Lady Avar held out hope.

    But Serena knew better. She had been nursing him in the last months of his illness, and he was always himself, even in the throes of the fever that would take him in the night.

    He was always himself till he suddenly wasn''t.

    And he was getting worse.

    Day after day, he grew more withdrawn, and more agitated. He became convinced that this was not where he was supposed to be. Serena had asked him then, where he would want to be.

    "Home." That was the reply she got.

    Her suspicions, which she had been denying out of a deference to her parents'' hope, was confirmed then.

    This was not her brother.

    Then who was he?

    That question shook Serena to her core. A sudden change in personality. Forgotten memories. Different eyes. These were all the signs of a woebearer.

    Throughout the five kingdoms, there was one universal decree - Kill the Woebearer. They were rumored to be heralds of the apocalypse, bearing with them forbidden knowledge. They corrupt all whom they come into contact with. It was even said that a woebearer who plunged the world into chaos during the last Great War some centuries ago.

    But he couldn''t be. Could he?

    While what was in front of her may not have been her brother, she did not sense an all corrupting evil emanating from him. He did not have any forbidden knowledge, at least none that was revealed by his answers. Serena didn''t think he had any knowledge at all. In fact, the only thing she could sense from him was fear.He was afraid.

    And to name him publicly would be his death sentence. He may not have been Sebastian Avar, but he still bore his face. He still bore his likeness, his voice, his scent. Everything that could''ve been Sebastian was this... thing.This poor scared thing. She couldn''t bring herself to do it. She could not visit such a judgement upon him, and definitely not upon her parents.

    So what should she do then? A myriad questions plagued her mind.

    Is he truly a woebearer? If he not truly Sebastian then where is my brother? Should I tell mother and father? What should I do?

    The innocent dreams that Serena once had were now filled with dark, ominous thoughts.

    <hr>

    Weeks after ''Sebastian''s'' miraculous recovery, Duke Avar held a grand party to celebrate. Every last Avar was present, even the cadet branches came. Everyone came, save Serena. She was troubled by the truth of her ''brother'', and stayed away from the celebrations.

    No expense was spared. The great feasting hall of Avar was brought back to its former glory, iced spirits were brought in from the Eastern Peaks, even the elusive Blue Troupe was hired for entertainment. It was a spectacle in every sense of the word.

    Duke Avar wanted to show strength. He wanted for everyone to see that his son was alive and well. He wanted them to know that the line of Avar, his line, was secure. But most of all, he wanted to see a smile on his son''s face - it was a sight foreign to him since Sebastian''s recovery.

    But ''Sebastian'' was far from healthy. On the surface he looked fine, but there was a sickness in him, a sickness of the mind. If one stood close enough, one could hear the words he was muttering under his breath.

    "This is a dream. I must wake up. I must wake up. I must..."

    After the initial toasts, the Blue Troupe began performing their new play - a comedy, much to the delight of the guests. Many jostled for better vantage point in the hall.

    No one noticed Sebastian slinking off towards the kegs of iced spirits. The guests were completely enthralled by the show. The spirits were in the opposite direction. Even the servants crowded to the front for a better look. Some were even standing on the tables.

    When the duke finally noticed his son''s absence, he searched for him amongst masses behind. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a small figure near the spirits.

    It was his son.

    He was pouring the keg over himself.

    The old duke shouted, but his voice was caught in the middle of his throat. He rushed forwards towards Sebastian, against the crowds.

    "SOMEONE! HOLD HIM!"

    Sebastian reached for a torch.

    The crowd, urged by the duke, turned.

    A sudden and great fire erupted, and there was a small writhing figure within.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The duke then ran headlong into the flames, trying to pull Sebastian out. But the fire was too fierce and all he could reach for was an arm charred black. It was an arm that broke off when he held it.

    The inferno consumed the duke shortly after, and when it was done, it turned on the rest of House Avar.

    When Serena finally came to the hall, there was nothing left.

    <hr>

    "Now, children. Can you tell me the one law that is universal in all the realms?"

    Standing in the room, opposite a seated Dawnstar and Ravenna, was Father Erdos. At first glance he was like any other elder academic - wizened and a little deranged. He even smelt like old books. Were it not for his golden nose, he would''ve been the very image of older professors one would find at college - The kind of professors that were masters in their field but could not, for the life of them, work the projector.

    By the way, "golden nose" is not a euphemism, Father Erdos had a literal golden nose, and and it shone like gold only could. It had been two weeks since Dawnstar and Ravenna begun lessons, but never once did the topic of his nose came up. Whether by design or chance, that nose became the proverbial elephant in the room.

    It was incredibly distracting. Especially when the golden nose sometimes looked like a third eye that was constantly glaring at them. Erdos rapped his knuckes on Ravenna''s desk. The question he posed earlier was not rhetorical.

    "Kill the Woebearer." Ravenna quipped.

    "Yes, very good. Do you know how it came to be?"

    Dawnstar had heard the term woebearer before, he knew that it referred to people like him, and he definitely knew of the law that demanded his death. It was called the ''universal commandment'', and apparently, everyone in this world knew of it.

    All the stories he''d heard about woebearers were objectively terrible. Every single one of them was depicted as murderous demons who killed all in their wake. Those that they did not kill, they made mad. They turned loyal servants against their masters, brothers against brothers, and children against their parents. It was as if the monsters of Dracula, Frankenstein and Cthulhu were all merged into this one horrific creature - woebearer. A creature whom which they blamed for all the evils of the world.

    "Because woebearers are evil." Dawnstar replied. The answer had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted to distance himself as far away as possible from the topic at hand.

    "That is an answer that is unlike you, surely you can do better?" Erdos pressed the question on Edward, as any good teacher would.

    And he was right, Dawnstar had been an exceptional student possessing an insight far beyond his years. Much to the chagrin of Ravenna, they had often engaged in long discussions on far ranging subjects. A forty year-old man debating a a child whose yet to be four! If one had told him that was what exactly he would be doing,and enjoy doing, before he came to the Ney estate, he would have treated them for madness.

    Yet here he was, doing exactly that, or in this particular case, hoping for that to happen.

    It seemed that in some areas, Dawnstar''s knowledge may have rivaled his own.

    It almost seemed otherworldly.

    That prospect excited him. He could care less about appearances, and much less about age.

    "Maybe I''m not as smart as you think I am?" Dawnstar attempted to avoid the premise behind that question. He wanted the lesson to end. Right now.

    That answer chilled the normally energetic air of their lessons.

    Even Ravenna was surprised at that reply. Much as she hated this interloper into her home, she could not deny Dawnstar''s intellect. This was peculiar considering his previous behavior during class. There must be a reason for this reticence on his part. Ravenna, like a predator, sensed an opportunity and pounced.

    "Why don''t you want to talk about it?" Ravenna interjected. She wanted to see him squirm.

    "At least I didn''t wet my bed."

    Edward had brought out the big guns. Ravenna flushed scarlet before tossing an jar of ink in his direction. It went wide.

    "CHILDREN!"

    Edros shouted, and that was the end of that. They were children after all.

    Unbeknownst to all of them, an intricately carved plaque on the side of the wall served as a hidden window for eavesdropping. Lady Ney had been observing them ever since the beginning.

    <hr>

    ~~Serena~~

    I still remember what Antoine told me when he first courted me.

    "You are beautiful, but I''m not marrying you for your looks. I''m marrying you for your inheritance. I do not intend to see it squandered or wasted like any of your other would-be suitors, instead, I will use it. I will use it to build power and influence. I will use it to make sure no one can come against us, but I will only do so with you, with your blessing."

    He may not have been the best man, but he was my best bet. The ruin of house Avar was widely known and there was a sickness in men that drove them to gloat over other''s troubles. I realized then that Antoine''s reputation was not well deserved. His face and his stature was his misfortune. I had mine.

    Our union was fruitful. He was honorable and he had kept his word. For a time, both of us plotted together against our enemies.

    That changed when Ravenna was born. She was more beautiful that anything I could ever imagine. She had the bright violet eyes of Antoine''s house and she had my father''s ears. She was my baby, and I wanted more than anything, for her to be happy.

    Antoine saw her as a means to advance our interests and we fought over it, constantly. I could not fault him, for I was the one who had changed, and he had not. So I retired from the court to our estate, with my precious Ravenna.

    And all was well, till he brought that bastard here.

    But I wasn''t angry , one would think I would be, but I know the realities. Ravenna, as beautiful and intelligent as she was, was not a son. Yes, he named her his heir, he even managed to get a pragmatic sanction from the king. An act which was without precedent, virtually unheard of throughout the realm.

    God knows what he had to do for that.

    If he wants to raise him under our roof, so be it. If he wants to legitimize him, so be it. Even if he wants to name him his heir, so be it. I wonder why he still tries to deny that Dawnstar is his.

    This world is not kind to women. I know this all too well. Even if she was named heir under her own right, men will seek to control her. They will ply her with honeyed words, and lay traps for her at every turn. I do not want Ravenna to live as I did.

    Yet I was not at peace. There is something wrong with that child, Dawnstar. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him. He is too much... like Sebastian.

    There is an incongruity about him. His movements are too deft, and his words too precise for a three year old. Those eyes of his, violet as it may be, has that same shifty quality as that... thing had. My suspicions deepened when I spied upon their joint lessons. The knowledge he had, it did not come from us, it did not come from our library.

    It came from somewhere else.

    And then he declined to speak about woebearers. One might think me irrational, this by all appearances, was a three year old child. But if one watched him closely, one would know that he was deliberately keeping mum about the subject. I knew then, that he was one.

    A Woebearer. Same as Sebastian.

    I just needed to confirm it.

    I needed proof.

    So here I am, outside near the children''s hovel, for the umpteenth time.

    How many months has it been now? Three? Four? No matter.

    He has turned these children into his pawns as a woebearer would, I''m sure of it. Why else would he spend so much time with them? Why else would he teach them? Why else would he sneak out in the dark of night with them?

    The things I have heard, I have no doubt it was forbidden knowledge. I just needed something conclusive.

    I will not allow what happened to happen again.

    <hr>

    Lady Ney stood behind the far end of the hovel, near an abandoned wagon. Night had already descended, and the moon was all the light she had needed. Darkness was her ally.

    For weeks now, she had been observing him within the confines of the estate. He was a busy little child. He had been moving to and fro from the manor to this hovel, and recently with his siblings at night, to town. Unfortunately she could not follow them there, as her face was far too recognizable amongst the townfolk, but she had no doubt that she would be able to get the proof she needed here.

    Here, out of sight of the manor and indeed anyone else, they had all the privacy they could want.

    She only needed to wait, and she was a very patient woman.

    When the bunch of rascals finally came back, Lady Ney swiftly walked to to hovel''s back wall. They had been later than usual.

    She pressed her ear to a crevice in the wall. It was clear that she had done this many times. A huge commotion of cries and shouts was all she could hear. Then one of the girls began a rant.

    This was peculiar.

    Normally they would''ve been laughing.

    This was it.

    Lady Ney strained to hear the details. She closed her eyes to focus.

    The children suddenly went silent. It seemed as if both of them anticipated a answer.

    Then Dawnstar spoke.

    "I am a Woebearer."

 10 Words I would not say

    Edward put on a shirt and some jeans. He looked into the mirror and gussied himself up. Despite a clear weariness in his demeanor, he looked fine, handsome even.

    This should do.

    He didn''t want to look like a bum, especially not in his own home.

    Especially not today.

    He sat on a sofa in his living room, which was unusually sparse. The ebony coffee table in front of him had a little dust ring on top of it, like something had previously been there for a long time. All around, there were absences where things should''ve been, a standing lamp here, a chair there, even a television set. They were all missing.

    Edward picked up letter that had been strewn carelessly onto the coffee table. It was slightly wrinkled, with many coffee stains on it and it had been read many times.

    <hr>

    WRIT OF SEIZURE AND SALES

    Pursuant to the judgement of bankruptcy made on 12 Aug 2009 to a one EDWARD LIM GUOXIANG, this writ of seizure and sales has been so ordered to recover any assets for the purpose of discharge the aforementioned''s debt obligations.

    A sheriff will be dispatched to the aforementioned''s residence on the 15th of November 2009, to execute this writ.

    Office of the Sheriff Singapore

    <hr>

    Today was the date of the seizure. Three echoing knocks broke the peace.

    They��re early.

    As Edward opened the door, he was shocked to see his mother and not the sheriff. Rendered momentarily speechless, he simply stared, mouth slight ajar at his mum. She was the last face he had expected or wanted to see. Especially not now, especially not today.

    He had kept his financial insolvency a secret from his family out of shame.

    ��Come let me see you. -"

    His mother sprang a hug on him.

    "-I thought you died or something! Why didn��t you call us back ? I brought your favorite congee-"

    She then let herself into Edward''s apartment.

    Fuck me.

    Just as he thought that his mother''s timing could not be worse, the sheriffs showed up.

    Fuck me right up the ass.

    They were two men, each with ominous stickers in a folder. As they walked over, both of them presented their identification.

    "Mr Lim, I am Andy and this is Mathias, we are from the Sheriff''s office. We are here to execute the writ."

    Edward was now caught between his mother who was in his apartment behind him and the two sheriffs in front of his door.

    Andy, the taller of the two sheriffs, peaked inside the apartment.

    "Mr Lim, in our experience, its best if all the residents remain outside -"

    Andy gestured to Edward''s mother.

    "- while we go about our business, you do understand right?"

    The implied ugliness behind that suggestion, the ugliness of seeing one''s life reduced to dollars and tags, did not escape Edward. It was about to be multiplied, in the presence of his mother.

    "Please give me a minute."

    Edward swiftly ran back.

    "Mom, this is not a good time, please."

    "Are those your friends? You can introduce me, you know. There enough congee to share."

    "Please mom, hey how about we have coffee downstairs?" Edward attempted a diversion. It did not work.

    "What about your frie-"

    The sheriffs walked in and began pasting seizure stickers on the furniture. A small army of movers started streaming in, carting off everything that was marked. The sofa, the table, the chairs.

    "Edward! What are they doing? No! You can''t take this-"

    Edward''s mother snatched away a decorative plate. As she slowly understood what was happening, she cast a forlorn look towards Edward.

    He was in tears.

    "Mum, I''m sorry."

    For the next few years, Edward moved in with his parents.

    <hr>

    "What were you thinking about?" Nazret asked.

    Dawnstar had been lost in thought, looking over his siblings play tag around the sparse woods behind their hovel.

    The mistakes of a past life. The mistakes of this one.

    What they lacked now was money. Dawnstar and his siblings were fed, clothed and sheltered, but they had no money. It was arguable that whatever they had, their clothes, their house, was not even theirs.

    The charity of an enemy was what supported them. It was a situation they all wanted to get out of. Oromia had since become an apprentice for a blacksmith in town but his income was virtually non-existent. An apprentice''s payment was in mastery of the craft.

    How long more could they live like this? How long before their circumstances change?

    Dawnstar''s mind had been kept busy since his first conversation with Oromia about their future some weeks ago. His older brother''s plan was far too conservative. He knew of the ticking time-bomb that lay within himself - woebearer.

    What if someone found out?

    Despite being surrounded by people whom he had come to love over the past three-ish years, and despite knowing that they loved him too, he never felt more alone.

    When he first heard about the term woebearer, it was in passing by one of the guards escorting them from port to the estate.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    A little seed of dread grew in him then. He had hoped that what he was hearing was the casual hate that people can sometimes give to what they don''t understand, like when his mother blamed millennials for ''ruining'' phones. Under this hope of his, he was even willing to accept the kind of hatred that rose from prejudice, like the racist remarks that some of his more backward thinking colleagues used.

    It was a vain hope.

    As he learnt more through the dusty volumes and household gossip in the Ney estate, he had come to realize that this world''s hate for the woebearer- this world''s hate for him, was absolute. It was written of, spoken of, and institutionalized in this world.

    And so the seed of dread grew a little stronger.

    He then did what all men did. He ignored it. He procrastinated dealing with it. He denied that a problem even existed. He kept the thoughts of him being a woebearer locked away in the darkest recesses of his mind.

    It was a con he was attempting on himself.

    But to do so he had to compartmentalize. He had to deny that Edward ever existed before Dawnstar,ywt he needed Edward''s knowledge to survive. He needed Edward''s knowledge for his next gambit.

    "Hey!" Nazret waved her hand infront of a spaced out Dawnstar. He snapped back from his dark ruminations.

    "So what are you thinking about?" Nazret asked, once again. Her face drew a little closer than before.

    How does one earn money? By charging for something that people want.

    What does he know, what could he make that people of this world would want?

    The only thing he had any expertise in was videogames, media markets and film editing. He was a history buff, an anime and manga geek, and a lover of literature. None of what he knew seemed practical. He had a theoretical knowledge of some crucial inventions, like the steam engine; he knew how it worked - the expansion and contraction of steam which provided work, but he had no practical knowledge of how to build one. Nor had he the capital to commission one.

    The only thing left for him was something that he could make out of nothing.

    Something that people would pay for...

    Dawnstar looked to the forest. The sight of his siblings frolicking about reminded him of the mythicalfairies, of the stories that people had imagined about them in his previous world. He had a sudden flash of inspiration.

    "Hey Nazret. What do you think about putting on a play?"

    <hr>

    The next morning, Lord Ney received two letters. One bore the personal seal of the king, while the other bore no seal at all.

    The letter from the king read simply, "She is barren, find me another. Come to court, I have need of your talents. Almaric R."

    The other letter was a little more mysterious, "I know the king has called upon you. Delay. You owe me this much. When you do come, bring my son along. Or else."

    Ney took a quick glance around. An empty room and hallway answered his question. He then burnt the second letter with a lit candle that was on his desk.

    Damn that woman.

    He hadn''t forgotten about the the agreement with Sunfire, he had simply hoped to run out her time. Not that caring for the children was in any way particularly difficult, it was the fact that he was bound to her that irked him greatly.

    For once, he was not the party that gave out the threats. He was the one that received it. This, he could not abide.

    Ney had wagered that she would be but a passing fad for the king, quickly used and quickly thrown away. That would''ve been ideal for him, since after the King''s interest waned, he could simply find him another woman; which coincidentally was exactly what the King was suggesting right now.

    Sure, she might have tried to reveal his missteps then, but at that point, without the King''s favor, no one would''ve taken her seriously.

    She would''ve just been another bad rumor that people told about him. It would''ve the best of both worlds for him - discharging the official duties of delivering a diplomatic gift, and avoiding any credible threat that may cause him to be repudiated. All he needed to do after was to get rid of the all loose ends, after her fall. Quietly.

    He gave her three months, it was almost three years. The royal court threshed people like wheat, if it were not for his own personal animosity towards her, he would''ve respected her instinct for survival. She had managed to enthrall the king all this time, amongst that pit of vipers.

    Moreover, he had grudgingly benefited from her rise - he had managed to secure himself multiple monopolies and commissions from King Almaric. Even his fief was increased.

    Now her demise threatened to bring him down as well.

    What should I do?

    The journey to the capital itself would take about a month, a delay of two weeks could be easily enough excused. But at the time of his receiving this letter, the king would have already been waiting for that same amount of time. Ney didn''t know how long he could afford stretch the delay. He would gambling with his majesty''s patience.

    So he did the next best thing. He sent him some entertainment.

    Apparently the Dawnstar brat and his ilk had created some new play. He had named it A Midsummer''s Night Dream. By all accounts, it was quite the amusing performance. But more importantly, it had elements that he could improve upon to appeal to his king''s lascivious nature. For example, the fairies in the forest could be played by scantily clad women...

    Ney chucked silently at his own ingenuity.

    He called upon his trusted subordinate, Blankey, to obtain the manuscript and execute his plan. Blankey had been one of his newest associates, a son of a trusted retainer, he was the very image of a Ney man - shrewed and patient, with the typical olive skin and blond hair of South Acadians.

    "Take this"

    Ney handed over a pouch of several gold coins and a hastily written letter to Blankey.

    "I want you to get the play from that brat, then head straight for the capital. Buy fresh horses on the way if need be. The money should be enough to recreate the performance. Make sure to include my revisions."

    "As you wish, sire."

    "Remember to express to his majesty our greatest regret for our tardiness. Loxley will help you with whatever you need in the capital. Do this well Blankey, and I''ll see you managing a bawdyhouse of your own. Do not disappoint me."

    "Certainly, sire", Blankey replied with a fire in his eyes, before departing promptly. Ney had a knack of getting the most out of people, and Blankey was no exception, no doubt he was already planning on how to manage his promised whores.

    Lord Ney would give Sunfire one month before heading to the capital.

    <hr>

    Dawnstar was heading back to the estate through the back-roads in the forest, together with several of his older siblings. They had earlier snuck out to perform one of their ''plays'' at the local tavern and netted themselves some pieces of silver.

    It was a good haul.

    The forest, normally oppressive and dark in the night, was lit up by the make-shift troupe''s exuberance. Their spirits were high, and they broke out into song, as they carried their props with them on the moonlit forest road. Even the crickets seemed to join in in their merry.

    Yet, Dawnstar had been strangely silent. This did not go unnoticed.

    Lorian, one of his fresh-facedolder brothers who played a very handsome Lysander in the play, approached his dour sibling.

    "Dawny boy-"

    Lorian picked Dawnstar up and placed him upon his shoulders. That act that would normally have his younger brother break out a toothy smile now only served to emphasize his gloom.

    Dawnstar remained deep within his own counsel. He was still thinking about the lesson he had with Edros and Ravenna on woebearers. It had been a disaster.

    He hadn''t realized how much of his past knowledge he had been revealing throughout these lessons. The potential fallout of his actions now haunted him.

    How could I have been so careless and stupid?

    It would be one thing if he were naturally so uncircumspect, but the truth was that part of him knew the risks, knew the danger. Between constantly thinking of a means to escape Ney''s clutches, and being always on guard for what he might inadvertently blurt out, he was desperately exhausted.

    Three years of worry and stress had left him burnt out. He was not careless because he was tired, rather, he was tired of not being careless.

    Father Erdos was blessing in disguise. Though Dawnstar was initially wary of him, the way he spoke, the way he treated him with not only respect but interest made it so easy to talk like he did in the past.

    He used to have these fascinating, deep, conversations with his close friends and fellow colleagues. Most of the time, the exchanges were about nothing really, but there was always an engagement witheach another on a intellectual and emotional level.

    Erdos was able to do that with him, and for once in three years of struggling and pretending, Dawnstar could simply be.

    He could never be like that with his brothers. Since he had started teaching them, started planning with them a means for escape, they had seen him with a strange sort of reverence.

    He was no longer the baby brother they had to change the diapers of, which almost all of them did, on their first journey to the estate from port. He was no longer the brother that would play hide and seek with them. He was no longer just their brother.

    A distance had opened up between them, filled with the silent expectations they had of him, and the hidden secrets he kept from them.

    Like how he was a woebearer.

    Still upon his older brother''s shoulders, Dawnstar had gently slid down in a piggyback. The gentle motions of Lorian walking had rocked him to sleep.

    Neither of them, nor the troupe, were aware that Blankey was tracking them.

 11 Critical Confession

    Lorian lit a small campfire. It was a moonless night and the darkness all but engulfed him were it not for the glowing flame. He was but a bit a ways from their hovel, near the edge of the forest. The little clearing he was in afforded him a silent refuge from the rest of his siblings. Though he loved them so, being one of the older of the Legacy��s orphans meant that he carried the responsibility of caring for the younger ones. It was a heavy burden, and there was only three of them to shoulder it- Oromia, Lorian and Talia.

    Sixteen children parented by three. They were the first to wake, the last to sleep. They cooked, they cleaned, they washed, and they put them to sleep. Then they did it all again the next day, and the next, and the next.

    Lorian sometimes just needed an escape.

    This little campsite of his provided him just that, and a little more��

    As the fire grew and crackled, Talia, approached from the thicket and embraced him from behind. Lorian smiled then turned around, and the two shared a deep passionate kiss.

    ��Are the rest all asleep?��

    Lorian asked as his eyes wandered onto Talia.

    ��Soundly.��

    Talia moved onto a mat near the fire and beckoned Lorian over with a gesture. The flickering flames bounced off her amber eyes and traced shadows all over her voluptuous figure. Lorian had all manner of lustful thoughts brewing in the back of his mind, but today was different.

    He was exhausted. Dawnstar��s new ��play�� had consumed whatever little time he had to rest. On top of looking after the others, and between rehearsing and managing the props for his younger brother��s plan, he had no energy left. He had half dragged himself over to this clearing to just find a little moment of peace for himself.

    Despite their budding romance, Lorian wished at very moment, to be left alone.

    ��What��s wrong?�� Talia sensed Lorian hesitation.

    ��I��m just tired, is all�� Lorian crawled towards Talia, and laid down on the mat beside her.

    ��You don��t have to put yourself through this. We do more than enough.�� Talia runs her fingers through Lorian��s hair.

    ��And I don��t like it. I don��t like what he is making you do. Haven��t you noticed?�� Talia props Lorian��s head onto her lap, and Lorian slowly starts drifting away into sleep.

    ��There��s something strange about our youngest brother. The things he thinks of, how he speaks-��

    ��Please, Talia stop.��

    This was an argument that they had many times before. Even after what they had been through together, Talia had a deep distrust of Dawnstar and his mother. Like almost all the orphans of the Legacy, she had lost her entire family on board the accursed ship. In her grief she had sought for someone to blame. Sunfire was an easy target. Not only did she start the entire chain of events, but in Talia��s eyes, she was the architect of their current predicament.

    She failed to see that Sunfire and indeed, Dawnstar, were just as much victims as she was, and that they were all under Lord Ney thumb.

    ��We could run away.��

    Lorian opened his eyes.

    ��That��s what I��m trying to do. If all goes well with our baby brother��s plan, we could all run away far from here. We could be free.��

    ��I mean right now. Just you and me.��

    Lorian was taken aback by Talia��s suggestion, largely in part because he secretly wished for it. He didn��t ask for this. He didn��t want comfort his siblings when they had nightmares, he didn��t want to cook for them, he didn��t want to be a dad to sixteen other children.

    But they were all he had for family, and he couldn��t abandon them. Even as he pushed that momentary idea of elopement out of his head, he couldn��t help but feel an an overwhelming sense of guilt.

    Talia, once again sensing Lorian��s thoughts, quickly corrected herself.

    ��Forget what I said. It was just nonsense.�� Talia rested her hands on Lorian��s shoulder, rubbing gently while humming a tune.

    Both of them knew that running away was not just ��nonsense��, it was their secret desire.

    <hr>

    Eleven burly, swarthy men surrounded Dawnstar and his sibling troupe. They were ambushed on their way back home, on the small forest road that they often took.

    The men carried with them torches that made their figures even more imposing in the dark forest. Standing at the head of this gang was Blankey, who assembled them for the purpose of cornering the children into giving up what he needed �C the play. The order had come directly from Ney, and he couldn��t wait to accomplish his master��s goals.

    He knew he would be richly rewarded.

    While Blankey may have had other alternatives to acquiring the it, none were easier nor more profitable than simply taking it from the children. After all, they were only children, what could they do?The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Blankey, holding a torch himself, took a step forward.

    ��Put down everything. The props, the script, and the backdrop canvases. Do so and you��ll leave with your lives.��

    The children only numbered four �C Oromia, Lorian, Nazret and Dawnstar. The rest, led by Talia, had gone on ahead hours ago. They were alone, and they were scared.

    Yet Dawnstar considered resistance. Ever since his inadvertent behavior during the lesson that almost revealed his condition �C that of being a woebearer, he had worked feverishly on a plan out. The play was three months of blood, sweat and tears, not just from him but also from the rest of his siblings. Looking at the expressions of the three around him, he imagined that they felt the same, if not stronger.

    They didn��t want to give anything up.

    The circle around them closed in, the men, like the metal bars of a jail. There was no escape.

    As much as he hated giving up all they had achieved, there was no other option. Their lives were more important. While there was no guarantee of the thieves letting them go, they had no power to do anything else.

    ��Okay.��

    The siblings glanced at Dawnstar.

    ��It��s okay, we can always make more.�� Dawnstar attempted to console his brothers and sister. A flash of anger hardened their faces, but they eventually acquiesced. The three placed what they had on the ground. It was an act that left a bitter taste in their mouths.

    The air around them remained tense, but there was a certain lightening of the threat of danger the moment Dawnstar gave in. The men began to hastily gather what the children had left on the ground, and carrying the props away to the side.

    Tears of anger streamed from Nazret face.

    ��C��mon hurry up�� Blankey shouted to men. He walked over to inspect the items gathered and cross-checked them with a list he had memorized from watching the play. He wanted to sure that nothing was left out.

    ��This all seems in order-�� Blankey was interrupted by sounds of a scuffle.

    ��The boss said EVERYTHING!�� One of the men tried to pry a pouch out from Lorian��s hands.

    ��This is not part of the play!�� Lorian screamed. The bagged ripped in half and coins �C their take from the performance, spilled onto the ground.

    Just as Blankey was about to step in, the man reached for a dagger.

    The eyes of the children widened. Blankey shouted for his man to stop. Time seemed to slow down.

    The dagger thrusted into Lorian��s chest.

    ��That��s what you get-�� As the man sneered over a fallen Lorian. Oromia howled in fury and tackled him from behind.

    They both tumbled into a heap, and with a rock in hand, Oromia began pounding onto the skull of his brother��s assailant.

    Nazret and Dawnstar ran over to Lorian side. The rest of the thieves closed in. They pulled Oromia off their accomplice and wailed on him with kicks.

    ��ENOUGH!�� Blankey shouted, with a volume that silenced even the crickets in the forest. His men stopped. The one that was attacked was unrecognizable, his face a mess of bone and blood. With a gesture from Blankey, they quickly left, carrying the injured man with them.

    The sounds of the forest crept in with their leaving.

    Lorian started coughing blood. Nazret reached for the dagger still in his chest but Dawnstar stopped her.

    ��We can��t pull it out. He will bleed to death if we do.��

    Nazret froze. A battered and bruised Oromia limped over to Lorian side.

    ��What do we do?�� Oromia asked Dawnstar.

    Dawnstar tried recalling every piece of medical knowledge that he had, but he was no doctor. All he knew were what he saw from television or movies, or from his own personal experience with doctors. He was not taught this. For the first time in a long time, Dawnstar had no answer.

    ��Tell us what to do!�� Oromia shouted.

    Dawnstar remained speechless.

    <hr>

    When they finally reached home, faces of shock and horror greeted them.

    As Lorian was laid onto his bed, dagger still in his chest, the children shrieked and gasped. While they were no stranger to tragedy and violence, seeing it so close, and happening to one of their own, struck fear into their hearts.

    Many were weeping.

    Lorian coughed up more blood. His breaths were getting increasingly ragged and short. Talia held his hand tightly, half mumbling prayers and half crying.

    Dawnstar took the lead and gave out orders.

    ��I need you to boil some water, and you, get some clean cloth.��

    The children that were singled out froze for a moment, they were still in a state of shock.

    ��NOW!��

    They snapped out of their dazeat Dawnstar��s urging. There was not a minute to lose if they wanted to save their elder brother.

    ��Oromia, stay here. Don��t pull the dagger out, I will try to get some help. The rest of you, keep a fire going, keep Lorian warm and comfortable. The room must be kept clean, and make sure to wash your hands.��

    The entire hovel was in motion. The hearth was kindled right away. Some started cleaning, others brought new blankets and fresh sheets. All busied themselves, almost as if they were trying to block off the horror of their dear brother��s possible demise.

    Dawnstar needed to get help swiftly, yet as he rushed to the door, Talia grabbed him arm and stopped him.

    ��You did this. You and your plan. You did this to him.��

    Oromia stood up.

    ��Tal, please. This is not the time-��

    ��You tell me this is not the time? You see our brother with a knife still in his chest and you tell me this is not the time? Can��t you see what he has done? What he has made all of you do! You cannot tell me you don��t see it. He is-��

    ��A woebearer.�� Dawnstar completed Talia sentence.

    The whole house fell silent.

    There was grim expression etched on Dawnstar��s face as he looked at Lorian lying on his bed, and then at the others. He wondered if faces that looked back at him were fearful because of his confession or if they were fearful simply because Lorian was fading quickly.

    ��I��m a woebearer. I admit it. And I��m probably why all this-�� Dawnstar tried to gesture the reality of all their circumstances.

    ��-all this happened. But I didn��t choose it. And I want what all of us want. Right now, I��m trying to save our elder brother.��

    There was a pleading in Dawnstar eyes. It was matched with anger in Talia��s.

    ��LIES! The younger ones may not know better but we do. So why are you defending�� that thing?�� Talia turns to Oromia, with an accusatory finger pointed at Dawnstar.

    ��Okay then. What do you to do Tal? Kill me? I��m weak, you could probably kill me easily. Then what? What are you going to do next. Lorian is still lying there. Go on. Tell me!��

    Talia was struck dumb.

    ��You know what��s going to happen next? Lorian��s going to die. Then because I��m dead, Ney will come in and toss all of you out He might kill everyone or sell everyone. He already tried once, with me, you think he is not going to do the same to you, to all of you?��

    Some of the children recoiled as if someone had whipped them.

    ��These past few years that we spent �C we are brothers and sisters to one another, are we not? I��m trying to find a way out, not just for me, but for all of us. You are angry, I get that. You can take it out on me, but don��t let Lorian die out of spite.��

    Oromia reached out and pulled Talia into a hug, and she broke down into uncontrollable sobs in his arms. Dawnstar slipped out through the door and ran towards the manor.

    There was only one person that came to his mind, one person with the requisite knowledge and the disposition to help him �C Edros, his tutor.