"It is you that fails to understand that destruction for the sake of destruction is wrong. Why won't you listen to me?"

~Unknown

Kasotheas Lardinor. Yes. I will start with you. A pawn from start to finish. You brought me the most pain, but you also brought me the most joy. I enjoyed seeing you break, shame it wasn't enough. Here mortal. Witness.

It wasn't as bad today. Not as much as last week at least. Or perhaps it was last month? Its getting harder to keep my thoughts straight nowadays. My father, so he liked to call himself anyway, put his torn and greasy gloves back on and walked out of the mess that was the closet I had been given to sleep in for the majority of my miserable existence. 

Yeah, not too bad. Didn't even break the skin. 

Only a few more weeks now. The Ordinance Militant would come recruiting, and I can finally leave this Magewrath-Damned filth of a hovel I've had to call home. It wasn't all that bad. Mum seemed to care about me. At least that's what I thought, she never beat me or called me names and she always tried putting on a smile when she saw me. Though her watery eyes would remind me that I'm home, and that probably the tyrant that was my adoptive father was also home. My brothers and sisters couldn't care less if I got back from the market with one loaf of bread or with only one hand attached...as long as I had the loaf anyway. The Militant have a very nasty habit of cutting of hands from people they think stole from the merchants. It didn't take much. I've had to run from the militant once or twice but I guess that's the hand we've all been dealt. Right? The beatings were a bit much though. I guess I deserved it, I was a bastard at the end of the day. I still am anyway. At least old Mr. Lardinor reminded me of that very fact almost every day.

"You're lucky I even let you use my surname bastard!" 

He'd yell across the table as he had his daily meal, while mum sat in the corner with a plate an eighth his plate's size as she restitched a ripped shirt or pair of trousers. I'd already have taken my bite of bread for the day and stolen some water from the stable masters in town but I'd be forced to stay close by to clean up after him or to go fetch him whatever rundown shit stained excuse for alcohol was lying about.  My siblings would sometimes be around, or not. They had free reign to do whatever, so long as they were making money, bringing food...or beating me up. Mr. Lardinor was always keen on letting them have fun if it was at my expense.

"You're just like your mother. You're lucky I put up with either of you. A whore and a bastard!"

Mum wouldn't say anything to that. She couldn't. None of my siblings would ever bother opening their mouths. They were in daddy's good graces and they wouldn't risk their privileged position. I was the youngest of the lot. Lucky me that the old man decided to keep me around rather than slit my throat before I could let out a peep. I had looked healthy though, that's what one of the local Mysturgeons said anyway. 

"It would be a shame to lose such a fine specimen Mr. Lardinor"  were the exact words...How do I remember that?

What a great human being Mr. Lardinor was, for letting a baby live just because a stranger who practiced magic told him the baby is healthier than normal. That it  would be a waste to throw it away. It. A specimen. A testament to the Magocracy's finest of care givers. Champions of the human condition they called themselves. Champions of hypocrisy would be more apt. I got to see the Mysturgeons at their finest when they ruled that the west district would need to be burned because the Blight plague had run rampant there. For the greater good is what they said. I couldn't sleep for three days. It was too bright. Neither did Mr. Lardinor. I got a heavy beating on that day, I couldn't breath through my nose, maybe that's why I couldn't sleep.

"You should burn with them you filth. She brought you in this hell to torment me didn't she?! I do this for your own good, and for her own good!" Mr. Lardinor roared as his fists came crushing down. I think I was nine at the time. And it wasn't enough, the piece of dog shit had the audacity to cry as he bashed my face in.

"What did I do to deserve this? To deserve you?"

"I loved her. I still do. Why doesn't she love me?"

And he left. The thought sickened me. That he would bring me close to death, blame me for whatever happened between him and my mum and then he would dare make me feel sorry for him. For him! Damn him, damn the Mysturgeons, damn the Magocracy. Nobody cares about me anyway so why should I damn well care about any of them...because its expected of me isn't it. Mum cares about me though, she seems to at least. I guess that's enough isn't it? Maybe I just need to try harder, to be better...Maybe...

Its been four long years since that day. Four long, grueling, demoralizing years. I'm strong enough to measure up with the Militant, let alone when I actually start training. Thirteen is the official legal age of recruitment, and Kalphor knows how much the Militant always needs new troops. I'll join the Militant, get away from this excuse for a family. I'll try to do things better, I'll try to change how the Militant treat the common folk.

I met someone though...What was their name?

Someone who thought the same way that I do. I'd met them about two years ago. I didn't believe that there were good people before I met them. I always wanted to though, I thought maybe they could existed because my Mum seemed good...but I wasn't sure. Then this person came into my life. I changed that day. I had bumped into them at the market when I was running away from a couple of militant. They were dressed in the colours of the Militant-in-Training no less and I was panicking. Then they dragged me into a side alley...

"It's fine. Don't worry. Stay quiet for a bit."

The Militants chasing me ran past us and as the both of us peaked our heads out to see that the coast was clear this random stranger started to chuckle. I was confused, I held the sack of dried meats and pieces of bread I had managed to haggle for...and sneak away with...close to my chest. This was a member of the Militant I thought, I'm going to have my hands cut off I thought...This is how I die...I thought. Instead they were laughing and smiling at me. They had helped me.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend. Are you ok?"

I nodded back hastily. Clutching the sack even tighter. They started laughing again.

"Oh don't worry, I'm not going to rob you. If I wanted to I would have done it already."

I let go slightly and went to speak but no words came up. They laughed even louder. Then stopped abruptly and locked eyes with me.

"You know...You're kinda cute. What's your name?"

...That had been the start of the first genuine connection with another human being I had ever had. They explained how they had been adopted by the Militant when they were young. Their family had died in an accident and when the Militant showed up they'd found a crying child no more than three or four years of age. The Ordinance Records could not confirm their official heritage and a Registry Mageo-Supplicant was too expensive for the local Ordinance Records to call in. So the registry fabricated a new identity writing her off as an orphaned child of a militant died in action and so allowed membership in the Militant's training regiment until coming of age to join. They mentioned an issue with this that they discovered later for they were noted as a "daughter of" within the registry which was something they had later gone on to protest but the Ordinance Records found no reason to acquiesce to their unorthodox viewpoint. Something they were very clearly infuriated by. But she had been given a chance at a new life, a small group of young officers had become close friends and supported and accepted their way of thinking which was enough for them. I didn't understand at the time but thought nothing more of it then to mimic the same support and acceptance they expressed they experienced with these individuals. I wanted to be a close friend too. They had resolved to truly join the Ordinance Militant as a recruiter when coming of age and become an official member of the Ordinance Militant Recruitment division.

I had asked how I could join the Ordinance Militant like them and from then on I trained in secret with them and it gave me new meaning. It was finally a reason to keep going. The beatings felt weaker, even though perhaps they weren't actually but in a way they did actually feel weaker. One of my siblings would pass an off-the-cuff comment of me being useless and rather than staying quiet I'd force them to look directly at me and remark how at least I'm the one who actually risks my life to bring the little food we're allowed to eat. My older and stronger siblings would quickly try to put me in my place and I'd get beaten up more frequently because of my small rebellions, but even then it felt like a victory. Each day I trained, I got faster, stronger, sturdier. There was a point at which even my eldest half sister, perhaps once the toughest of the litter, found me too intimidating to even approach let alone partake in the family tradition of beating up her bastard half-sibling. Mr. Lardinor would be the only one to keep up my scheduled beatings, though he was also getting older and the beatings happened less and less.

When I'm out, I'll make sure that no one has to go through the same torture that I've had to suffer. I'll make a difference. They will help...What was their name?

Then the day finally came. There they stood. They...Why can't I remember their name? But there they were, at the door. Dressed in the official Ordinance Militant Recruiter Adept uniform. They were older than me and when last we met they told me that the ceremony of her officiation was soon to take place. It must have happened then because now they stood at attention at the door, along with three other older members of the Recruitment branch of the Ordinance Militant. As was costumery, pleasantries were exchanged. The older officers were allowed to sit to speak with Mr. Lardinor. This had not been the first the Recruiters had come to the home, but none of my older siblings had ever accepted to join the Militant. They were too good for that. Not me though. My mother had left the main interior and left her husband to deal with the officers. She hurried past me as I was coming in to listen in and there was this look in her eyes. She smiled, looked back into the room for the briefest of moments and then rushed off. At the time I was too distracted. At the time I just thought that I would finally escape this prison. At the time my only thought was that I might finally be free. 

At the time I didn't know...I didn't know. 

They were there. There was a passing nod between me and my friend, now turned Recruiter Adept, as we acknowledged one another. They smirked and then immediately recomposed themselves as the lead officer took a seat opposite Mr. Lardinor. They talked for what felt like hours. The officer took out a small metal flask, drank and offered some to Mr. Lardinor who declined it with a look of disgust, as though slighted or insulted by the officer's seemingly kind gesture. The officer didn't appear to show any reaction to this but continued on talking. There was talk of monetary compensation for the services of the child within the militant for the family, and a pitch was made for potentially more of the Lardinor family to join the Militant should they be so inclined. I remember how the conversation concluded.

"This must be the young lad that has come of age." as the officer stood up and walked over to me.

"The records didn't lie, a promising man of above average build and stamina. Great promise, great promise indeed. A fine addition to the Militant's forces."

"The brat is a bastard, a lazy ass that doesn't deserve the air he breaths. I'm sure you'll find something for him in your line of work" Mr. Lardinor retorted. 

"Well perhaps your blood was just not cut out to serve the Magocracy, unlike this lad's real father. What a shame to have had such potential brought up in such squalor."

To that Mr. Lardinor stood up, pushing the table forward and forcing the chair behind him as it screeched suddenly and immediately silencing the room as it came to a halt. The two other officers pulled at the hilts of their weapons. The recruiter adept looked at me and then at Mr. Lardinor with panic. The leading officer waved his hand just slightly and the subordinate officers quickly understood and returned to their passive disposition.

"I mean no offense Mr. Lardinor. The registries of the Ordinance Records do not lie however. None of your offspring have been enlisted into the service of the Magocracy, most are well known by our Militant to be running black market operations, illegal substance distributions or unregistered whore houses. Your family is one of decadence and abuse."

The old man seemed to have been dealt a heavy blow in the stomach as he rested his hands on the stained table in front of him. The officer continued.

"This young man is the first of your...line I suppose...to have shown interest in serving their country by the treatises of Rational and Logic outlined by the Great Orator and Magocrat Kalphor herself."

The officer looked at me. A quick glance up and down taking in my physique and demeanor. There was something in the way the officer looked at me that just felt...rewarding. I had no way to explain it. The adept, my friend...I can't remember their name...shot me a quick glance themselves and nodded indicating that I had passed the recruitment phase. The officer however was not done. Turning back to face the man of the hovel who now stood with sweat poring down his brow and audible gasps of breath showing a climbing sense of anxiety. A rarity to see, but not uncommon of late. He would come home trembling and mother would care for him, calming him and putting the excuse for a man at ease before he would hit her for thinking less of him for aiding him. 

"You are a testament to the flaws of human society Mr. Lardinor and the only reason your miserable family is not wiped off the registries and fed to the dogs is sadly due to the failures of our current Great Orator and the legion of Magocrats that believe that they know what's best for our society. You are weak Mr. Lardinor. This man is not. You would do well to accept your insignificance. I have seen it, the Magocracy has seen it, and so should you."

With that the officer made the standard salute of the Magocracy's Militia. Left hand placed on the right shoulder with an audible thump, a symbol of strength that is held close to one's own person. Then a raised right arm at a perpendicular angle to the elbow initially hand held open. A reminder that those of the Magocracy looked to things above them and are ready to reach for what is beyond them and then immediately closing the hand clenching it into a fist. This was done only by the Militia. It represented that it is the Militant's job to take hold of those that are above them and make them their own, to maintain order and stability and to show might. The two officers followed the salute as did the adept just a moment after them for they had been more focused on me and Mr. Lardinor who was now visibly shaking and panting heavily. The officer turned to leave, followed quickly by the two officers and then my friend, the Recruiter adept looked at me.

"You may come with us." They looked at Mr. Lardinor, "If you still want?"

I was conflicted, the officer saw potential in me. He said I was not weak. But there was authority in his voice. Authority that I did not like. And he had forced this pig of a father that I had had for my life into a state of shock, he had made me feel sorry for this abuser once again. I was angry. Mr. Lardinor looked at me, those bleak black dots for eyes seemed to be calling out for help. How dare he. How dare he ask me for help! I walked past him and followed the recruiters.

That would be the last I saw the hovel of my home. It was the last time I saw my mother. It was the last time I saw my siblings. But it would not be the last I saw Mr. Lardinor.