The morning sun bestowed its radiant warmth with rays of light that shone brightly upon the weathered stone walls of the silenced fortress. Outside the peaceful confines, a cohort of rushing shirtless young boys led by a short brown haired man had disturbed the quiet ambience.
In their unorganised formation, the group’s march resounded, causing the stable earth to tremble beneath their feet. Nearest to the front strode the physically fit, while trailing behind at the back were the visibly fatigued and weakened.
Positioned toward the bottom of the latter’s ranks, and lacking behind even, Vasil found himself at the very back, his thin and fatigued figure was made apparent in the absence of his overwear. Despite his position, he still directed his stare straight ahead of him, cutting through the figures ahead of him and settling on singular boy, Reiziko.
In his oxygen deprived state, a single thought repeated relentlessly in his mind ‘I have to become better…’ Driven by his desperate but faint will to get stronger, he clung to consciousness, unwilling to succumb to the waves of exhaustion. Yet, amidst all of his exhaustion, crippling doubts occasionally seeped in, magnifying the weight of his inadequacies.
The distance between him and the rest widened, his expression fell into a deep scowl and his breathing grew more ragged. Gradually, he began to slow down, nearly coming to a stop if not for his instructor.
“I can’t…”
That notion resounded in his thoughts, painfully aware that his lack of skill was causing troubles for the others.
The soreness of his feet grew ever louder with each step, the heaps of exhaustion becoming more noticeable by the moment. And yet, despite his physical strain, his gaze grew vacant. His once vibrant motivation that fueled his movements had vanished, replaced with a dark and ominous purpose that bore its roots deeper into his mind.
- - -
The sun ascended higher than before, cursing the land with its heat rays across the training grounds. Their training session had concluded and now, everyone gathered in the mess hall, awaiting their lunches with silent eagerness. The cluttering of trenchers clouded the halls as each boy received their portion.
The group which Reiziko and Vasil belonged arrived last, their entry delayed significantly compared to the rest. The single-file line of overworked boys approaching the mess hall was beyond exhausted, their faces marked by a flushed red hue, displaying their lack of oxygen via erratic breathing.
Like prior, the line unintentionally arranged itself in order of physical prowess, with the stronger finding themselves at the front and the weaker towards the end. Once again, Vasil found himself among the end of the line while Reiziko remained in front, leaving the two no opportunity to converse.
The group remained silent amidst all the buzzing loudness emanating from the hall. Though their expressions were concealed by a mask of exhaustion, the frustrated scowls which bore roots on their face were unmistakable.
Vasil kept his head low, his gaze fixed to the rocky ground below him. His pained expression differed from the rest, tears threatening to spill from his eyes once more. Regardless, the group marched forward towards a pile of trenchers.
Continuing in a line, the boys approached the countertops adorned with trenchers filled with bread and olives, although they were mostly empty. One by one, they grabbed a piece of old bread and a handful of olives and filled their respective trenchers. Walking over to their allotted table, they seated one after the other, an assortment of sixteen boys with half facing the other.
They had all yet to start eating their food, instead, they exchanged glances that had and began to chatter. Their attention shifted to the boy with his head lowered. The noise soon clouded Vasil’s ears, and he clutched his hands together tighter with every passing second.
“Kid… Hey!” A loud and heavy voice broke through, conveying frustration behind each word. Uncharacteristically, he cautiously raised his head to face the person who had called out to him, his body jerked with anxiousness.
The boy that had begun to converse with him slammed the table and said, “You’re a drag, you know that?” Vasil reluctantly twisted his head backwards, meeting the gaze of the boy, but he persisted regardless “We can’t keep redoing exercises because of you.” he stated impatiently.
A subtle murmur of agreement grew among the boys with their discontent becoming increasingly evident. Vasil gazed around frantically, struggling to focus on anything. Another boy lifted himself from his seat to chime in, “We’re here to get stronger, not to be punished for your uselessness, moron,” he declared with a gruff tone.
With his hope dwindling, Vasil turns his head to seek solace in the one person he knows among the group. However the expression on that person’s face reveals nothing but disdain. His mind shattered upon becoming aware of the bitter reality that surrounded him this whole time. His stare turned blank, the light from his eyes vanished completely, leaving behind a desolate gaze.
The murmur kept increasing in volume, the words became ever more audible. Curses and insults could be distinguished from within the group. He tried to muster a response, but the weight that he felt pressing upon his throat rendered him speechless. His thoughts became chaotic, the overwhelming verbal onslaught would cause him to be lost in the emptiness of his mind.
The dark flame within his heart had rekindled, his aspirations and ambitions faded as he sought only one solution.
- - -
The sun had set beyond the mountains, and the night had descended, the obsidian-like hue of the dark drowned out the soft green hills that encircled the stronghold. The absence of the moonlight made this an especially gloomy night.
Every group, save one, had long since completed their training regimen and marched towards their allotted barracks. The remaining final group had finished theirs in the nick of time, choosing to forego supper in order to compensate for their additional work.
The group that stayed behind was led by Instructor William. There were no longer ranks, instead, it was split between those who remained on their feet and those who had fallen. With the exception of one boy, all of those who had fallen due to physical strain were escorted and supported back to their barracks by their fellow comrades.
Walking along the paved path, they arrived at their destination and in a line they descended the flight of stairs that would lead them to their room. Vasil remained last, same as before, dragging himself wearily towards the stairwell entrance. His breathing had become even more ragged, and his body bore a number of bruises and deep swelled wounds.
His stride, however, was interrupted abruptly by the hand of the same instructor, excluding him from entering the room the same way as everyone else.
Clearing his throat, William remarked, “I require you in my quarters, Vasily.” His face cloaked in darkness, rendering his expression indiscernible to Vasil's eyes. Nevertheless, Vasil dared to meet his gaze, incapable of mustering any emotion.
The rest of the boys, drained of strength and courage, had no capacity left to worry about this matter, so they left Vasil with the instructor and collapsed onto their beds. Meanwhile, Vasil followed the faint light emanating from William’s lantern, tracing his sharp shadow. Despite that, the pounding of his own pulse resonated loudly within his eardrums, his thoughts riddled with questions concerning his impending fate.
Following an unpleasant period of silence that made as if minutes walking stretched into dozens of more, soon enough ahead of them it became apparent a small candle light emanating from the head-quarters. They arrived at their destination, which was no different from the exterior than any other room in this fortress, consisting of three to four metre long stone walls, with the darkness of the night covering all the imperfections.
Before them stood a roughened wooden door, its frame reinforced with metal. Staying motionless for a moment allowed William the chance to break the tense silence. “Vasily… it's obvious that you are the last in terms of performance,” he got a grip of the door handle before he pressed on “But if you proceed as I say then you won't have to worry about that any longer.”
The situation was familiar to Vasil, he had experienced it all the same before, albeit less kinder. ‘Nothing changed’ a thought echoed relentlessly in his mind. Yet it held no weight, for he had lost all will to resist.
The smell within, was nauseating, a putrid stench tore through any remaining traces of other odours in the vicinity. Vasil, overwhelmed and appalled, flinched in astonishment as he entered, however it had no effect on William.
“Lay yourself upon the table,” exclaimed William as he raised his lantern, casting its dim light across a wooden surface riddled with dried blood. Vasil complied, his movements slow and reluctant.
In the dim chamber, William dared not hesitate any longer as he loomed over the table, the light reflecting off his lips revealing the slight grin, although by this point it made no difference. His sense of pride knew no bounds. Vasil’s breathing had become unsteady and his body trembled nervously.
William laid himself upon Vasil as his eyes grew with a dark gloom. Trapped against the table, Vasil had no option but to meet his gaze, though he couldn’t help but flinch and turn his head to the side
Closing his eyes tightly, he prayed for an end to this ordeal.
However, a sound pierced the silence. A slow rhythmic dripping.
Curiosity consumed the fear he harboured mere moments ago, and with much resistance he opened his eyes.
As Vasil’s eyes adjusted to the dim light once more, the source of the sound became apparent: fresh blood, steadily tickling from the back of William’s head, the rhythmic dripping only grew in volume. Stunned as he watched William raise his trembling hand to touch the wound, only to withdraw it, now stained in crimson.
As William lifted his body and turned around, Vasil’s instinct made him push back with his legs in a desperate attempt to flee away. However, his frantic movements only served to cause him to tumble off the table, landing on all fours with a thud, and sending a jolt of pain through his body.
William’s panicked eyes darted around the room, desperate to locate his weapon. Though before he could make a move, the attacker struck with swiftness. A single slash across his eyes was all it needed to render him defenceless, his hands instinctively clutching his wounded face, blood seeping from his eyes as a guttural cry escaped his lips.
“You like engaging with children, Sir William?” the familiar voice resounded in the darkness, filled with anger. As the figure approached the lantern, his appearance became evident, revealing his identity. However William remained blinded,
“Who are you!? How did you get here?” William’s voice shaking with anguish, struggling to comprehend the situation amidst the pain.
“You wo-” As William’s sentence cut short, it was abruptly silenced by the force of a dagger intruding down his throat. Blood gushed forth from his mouth but his voice became stifled, incapable of screaming. In his state of blindness and silence, his movements dwindled one by one until he laid on the ground, his body writhing in pain as he made futiles attempts to escape the torment.
Vasil lifted his head to a horrid sight; fresh blood sprayed all across the room and still increasing in volume, all originating from William who now laid silent on the ground, his breathing muffled by the red tide. Above him stood a boy from Vasil’s group, his gaze fixed to the ceiling exuding relief. In a quiet whisper, he uttered “Oh Jnaðr… Thank you..”
The boy’s attention swiftly returned to the weakened figure on the ground, and without hesitation, he seized the opportunity to start laying down kick after kick upon him. “This is for Joram, you miserable bastard!” he cried out with a sense of anguish and fury behind his voice. Each kick carried more power than the last, and with a final gathering of his strength, he delivered a heavy blow that sent the dagger piercing through the back of William’s throat.
Vasil could only observe in stunned silence as the gruesome scene unfolded in front of him. The overwhelming smell infused with that of blood and the scene he had just witnessed threatened to make him sick, and in an instant, he found himself vomiting. The boy, upon that moment, became aware of Vasil’s presence however he remained unfazed.
The boy’s short brown hair was now coated in crimson, matching the rest of his face. He turned his blood-stained eyes towards Vasil, a faint frown creasing his mouth. “Oh, it’s you.,” he muttered, taking in sight of the scene one last time. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he added “...I don’t care what you do, but you can get out of here.” With that, he turned his attention back to the gruesome scene which had been a result of his actions, leaving Vasil to his own devices.
