Arc 1 - The Snow Kneeling at His Feet
He felt sick to his stomach ... again.
Somehow, after an endless time of mostly lying on his back, to the point that his skin was riddled with painful pressure sores, he was now standing up, his legs shaking like dying leaves in the wind. His wrists hurt, a pain that spread like fire up his arms and shoulders. And the sounds around him were too loud and confusing. He tried to open his eyes but the mere attempt to unglue his heavy eyelashes made him want to throw up. And he knew, better than anyone, that throwing up would only bring him more pain and make him even more weak than he already was. They rarely fed him and, even when they did, most times he could hardly eat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten but he couldn’t risk throwing up any rests of food his stomach might still contain.
“Is he the one?” a voice asked, echoing all around him, making his head ache. Someone else was there, which meant that soon enough he’d be cut and bled, if nothing worse.
“Yes, my Lord. He was exactly where we were told he’d be. I’ve checked the markings myself,” another voice answered, which was strange. Normally he’d hear her voice, welcoming them and explaining them the rules, always the same rules. And even though she too had called them ‘my lord’ or ‘my lady’ her voice had never held that heavy tone of fear and respect.
“I see ... He is truly an aberration. A miracle they didn’t kill him at birth.”
“He’s probably the child of some whore. The woman that was selling him seemed to know exactly what he is. She probably knew from the moment he was born and intelligently decided to change businesses and live exclusively of the incoming she got from him,” the respectful voice replied.
“From what I heard she was living a good life. Have that been taken care of?”
“Yes, my Lord. Not only that. We have traced all those who had been in contact with him before and took care of them as well.”
A deep sigh echoed around him.
“He’s clearly heavily drugged. He’s useless this way. Put the qinrien1Literally quin (sound) + rien (bind). The name of a biding collar that forces its wearer to remain silent. It can be set to different levels of sound from not speaking at all to not shouting or screaming. It can only be taken off by the one holding its ring key. on him and give him plenty of water to drink. If he refuses to swallow it pour it down his throat. I want him clean as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And get someone to wash him. His foul stench is turning my stomach inside out.”
“Yes, my Lord. Right away.”
“Choose wisely who you charge with his care. Make sure they are ... expendable.”
The confusing sounds mingled inside his foggy mind. He was in so much pain ... But at least they had stopped. They weren’t moving anymore. He had the sickening feeling they had been moving for a long time. Or maybe they hadn’t, he couldn’t really tell. The only thing he knew was that, if he could only make himself forget the burning pain in his arms, he now felt much better than before. Right then all he wanted was to lay down and sleep. The gentle face of a young girl he had almost completely forgotten popped in his head, like it always did whenever he felt miserable and alone, and the soft music that she gently hummed lulled him back to sleep.
Poor cinnamon roll...