"Brother, don't you think we should head back now? Mother is probably worried because we've been gone so long."
His hands gripped the hilt of the wooden sword, the tip slowly sinking towards the ground. Sweat dripped off his chin, the evaporating liquid cooling his heated cheeks. Sapphire eyes stared at the speaker…opponent…brother. Similar weapon in hand. Equally worn out from their sparring session. A while back, he had convinced his sibling to help him hone his fighting skills. A secret they would have to keep from their parents, who would rather have them working in the field. His brother was reluctant at first, but after realizing that the benefits of the training outweighed the risks, he agreed to sneak out more often. A special time they spent together, dedicated to their physical workout.
Of course, this didn't change his brother's innate nature of being overly cautious.
A sly grin formed on his boyish face. "What's wrong? Are you afraid you'll lose this round?"
His brother bristled at those words, but kept his anger in check. "Don't get so cocky just because you're better than me. But seriously, it's way past midday, and we haven't finished our chores." A small smirk. "Though, if you do want to stay longer, then you have to come up with an excuse to tell father where we were."
"That's not fair!"
"Hey, I had to do it last time, so it's your turn."
"Fine." Sword driven into the soft earth. One hand wiping away the sweat from his eyes. "Let's go home before they start looking for us."
"And let's count that as my verbal victory."
"Shut up! My brain's just different from yours."
"You're right. Mine actually works."
Sword swinging in an upward arc. Countered at the very last second. Both he and his brother smirked, though more out of playfulness than malice. They held the stance a minute longer before he moved the sword away and swung his other arm over his brother's shoulder. And so, they leisurely went down the forest path. Enjoying the cool shade given by the foliage. Swinging the weapons in their hands. Chuckling at each other.
Only to be greeted by rising flames destroying their village.
Collision against wood brought him out of his restless sleep, which was always plagued with the horrid memories. As soon as he opened his eyes, darkness clouded his vision and refused to leave until they adjusted. Within the confined space, he could make out the shapes of the other children huddled against each other. His ears picked up soft clinks as some struggled to get more comfortable, though it was useless. They were packed together to the point that it was difficult to move without jostling the neighboring bodies. Which is why he was glad he was at the edge, his back resting against the wall. Less chance of disturbing someone else. Less chance of someone disturbing him.
With as little movement as possible, he looked over at the sleeping form of his brother, whose head was resting against his shoulder. Small rays of light came through the cracks between the wood, and he used them to study the damage. Dried blood crusted on the bottom lip. Large bruise on the cheek. Anger rising in his heart. If he ever saw the bastard who did this to his brother, he swore to kill without mercy.
But even he knew the chance of such an opportunity was slim. Nothing wrong with dreaming, though.
His eyes traveled down to the shackles around his brother's wrists, down the iron chains that connected to his own bindings. He moved his hands until his wrists were eye level and stared at the dirty metal. The hateful restraints that limited his movement. His freedom.
Images from the trauma come back to his mind. When they had arrived at the village, they had panicked because they witnessed a number of unfamiliar men decapitating the villagers. The neighbors they had greeted merrily only hours before. Faced with such a sight, they instinctively fled the scene. Unfortunately, they drew attention with their running and were soon targeted. During the assault, he had fought back with a ferocity that would've made his father proud. His father who was known as the village's greatest warrior.
But he was still a child. Facing grown men. He was eventually overpowered, though not before he rammed his wooden sword through someone's chest. A feat that would've been satisfying if he wasn't beaten by the man's enraged companions. Fists colliding with his abdomen. Feet kicking into his flesh. His body reflexively curled into fetal position before he blacked out.
The next thing he knew, he was chained and lying inside a carriage, his brother's tear-streaked face hovering above his. The still bleeding mouth forming words that couldn't be voiced.
I thought you were dead.
With a soft sigh, he leaned his head until he felt his brother's wavy hair against his cheek. From what he heard, his brother had also retaliated, but when the men started beating him, he had pleaded for their mercy. For them to spare his brother. Which was obviously ignored. He wasn't able to see his reflection, but he knew for a fact that he didn't look good. His face was still tender, and his body spasmed if he moved too much. And it didn't help that the carriage jolted every few yards.
Still, both he and his brother were alive, even though they didn't know the fate of the village. He could guess, but he'd rather not. Because that would mean he had to think of his parents…
Eyes stung with unshed tears. Teeth bit down onto the already split lips. He had listened to the distress of the other occupants, which ranged from chocked sobs to shrieking wails. Some of them he knew from the village, but most were strange faces. All of them young, ages ranging from three years to fifteen. But pain is indiscriminate. So the cries would continue until their captors threatened to cut off their tongues. A brief pause before one cry would start the others again.
He had promised himself that he wouldn't show such a shameful display, but the emotions were finally getting to him. Silent tears fell from his eyes and rolled into his brother's hair. He felt a hand grab his own, a gentle touch that caused the tears to flow faster. Wincing slightly, he moved his arm until it was around his brother's neck, and pulled him closer. Hands still clasped, they moved to his brother's face. And he felt another set of tears seeping though the fingers.
Words weren't needed. Body language was enough for communication.
I'm so sorry, Matt.
It's okay, Al. It's not your fault.
Time blended as they were kept in the moving vehicle, at the mercy of their captors. Their situation was distasteful, to put it lightly. Lack of sufficient openings. Cramped space. Smell of urine constantly making them gag. Unbearable heat, especially during the daytime. They were allowed get out only once, when they were each given a slice of bread to eat. And only once could they do their other business. Which Alfred thought was stupid because their group consisted of young children who don't have control over their bowel movements yet. Hence the miserable time spent inside their moving prison.
Such conditions were far from ideal, so there were many deaths along the way. The child next to you could be alive one day, and a corpse the next. These too were discarded once a day. That combined with the heat and body waste was more than enough to attract flies. Horrid insects that flew around and caused endless annoyance. Yet, even with these losses, the carriage remained cramped, for their captors somehow managed to find more children.
If hell truly existed, Alfred felt that he was in it. And their captors were more than fitting for the role of demons.
Yet, both he and Matthew clung to their lives with stubborn determination. Refusing to succumb to death's allure. Waiting for the opportunity to be free from their confinement.
One night, the carriage came to a final halt. A cruel light shining in to awaken them. "All right, get out you brats. We're finally here."
They came out single file in the order they were chained, and Alfred found himself behind his brother. The cool air was a welcome blessing, a sweet change from the stale odor of death. He would've enjoyed this refreshing state longer if he wasn't distracted by the building in front of him. It must've been at least four stories high, and he couldn't even see the end of the building's length. The exterior was completely made of stone. No windows. A single, iron door the only entrance to this ominous structure.
Before he could stop staring, the line moved forward. Led by a captor at the front, who knocked on the heavy wood. After a moment, the door opened to reveal another person. Middle-aged male. Black hair tied in a short ponytail. Dark robe clothing the body. A pale lantern in hand.
"It's a little late into the night, stranger."
"Get over it. I brought the next batch just like your boss requested. Now are we gonna do business or do I have to go look for slavers?"
"…Bring them in."
The door opened wider for them, and the line began to move once more. When Alfred passed through, he felt a cold shiver run through his body. Something was wrong with this place. His instincts were shouting at him to leave. Yet he trudged on, pulled by the chains in front. After a while, they arrived in front of another door, which the cloaked man refused to let their captor through.
"Your work here is done. Give me the keys and pick up the compensation at the entrance."
Their captor complied, dropping the object into the outstretched hand before turning back with his partners. Leaving the children in the man's presence.
"Don't look so frightened. We're only going to put you through a physical examination to make sure you're not sick. Please don't cause unnecessary trouble," a couple more cloaked figures materialized from the shadows, "unless you want us to use force."
Few would've thought to rebel even without the warning, but the sudden appearance of these threatening people was more than enough to crush any such thoughts. So, the children went in one by one, the next child remaining shackled until the door opened to indicate they were ready. When it was Matthew's turn, Alfred couldn't help but reach out and grab his hand. Amethysts met sapphires that were filled with fear. Fear for his safety. In response, Matthew gave a small smile and a reassuring squeeze before he let go. The ponytail man removed the bonds and pushed the child into the room, the door shutting firmly, blocking his view.
An infinity seemed to pass before it was finally his turn. He had planned to struggle as much as he could, but seeing his brother's calm composure made him abandon that idea. Instead, he let the chains fall to the ground and walked through the door. But not before he made eye-contact with ponytail man.
Sapphire against iron. Gaze lingering before moving forward. Not looking back. Missing the amused smirk.
When he walked in, he wasn't expecting the change in surroundings. White walls reflecting light, contrasting with the shadowy hallway he'd just left. The door closed behind him as he blinked to adjust. And saw a single man standing in the middle of the room.
Short, messy hair the color of the night sky. Eyes so black that the irises couldn't be distinguished. Tanned skin. Tall. The man wore a white coat, though he also had a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. He held a clipboard in his hands, a pen stuck behind his left ear. After meeting the boy's eyes, he gave a wide smile.
"So, you're next, huh? You must be related to the previous boy."
Alfred remained silent as he analyzed his potential enemy.
"Nothing to say? Well, it doesn't matter, I guess." Pen in hand. Clipboard pulled closer. "Okay, go ahead and strip."
He blinked at the command. "…What?"
"Strip. Take off your clothes. Get in the nude. Understand yet?"
"Hell no! Why do I have to do that?"
A condescending sigh. "How else am I supposed to perform the examination? I need to make sure there aren't any physical deformities."
"Whatever, you pervert!" Body bristling. Fists raised. Aggressive posture. "I'm not taking off my clothes."
He waited for the man to fall for his taunt. Use anger against the opponent. Let him make the mistakes. But the man simply continued to smile. Though the ends seemed to curl slightly.
"A feisty one, haven't had those in a while. The recent arrivals were so meek that I was starting to get bored."
Watching the man walk towards him, Alfred prepared to attack. But one second the man was there, the next second he was gone. Alfred froze as a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. As a voice entered his ears, dripping with menace.
"But you need to realize that there's a difference between being brave and being reckless."
Eyes widened. Breathing hitched. His training screamed at him to get away from the adversary. Yet, his body said otherwise. It refused to move an inch, as if it knew that doing so would result in severe consequences. So, he stood still as the hand let go to pat his hair. And turned his head until he was staring into the black onyx.
"Let's try this again. Will you take off your clothes…please?"
Swallowing thickly, Alfred nodded and moved away when the hand released his hair. He hated himself for being compliant, but even he was aware that he was treading on thin ice. A fragile surface that would drop him into a frozen death if he wasn't careful. Slowly, he removed the dirty, tattered clothes until he was completely exposed under the man's eyes. He could feel his face turning red from embarrassment, humiliation. The air felt cold against his bare skin, causing him to shiver.
But the white coat merely looked over him without interest. Indifferent. Detached. Only writing down notes on the clipboard. Soon, he was giving other commands: raise your arms; run in place; squat; run a lap around the room. Finally, he must've been satisfied because the orders stopped.
"Okay, that's good enough. Leave your clothes and go through that door."
Alfred followed the direction of the pen that pointed to the other side of the room. To the door on the right. Confused, he looked back at the white coat. "What about the left door?"
"That's a secret."
He knew that was the only answer he'd get, so he began to walk to the indicated location. Before he turned the handle, he heard a final warning.
"Be careful not to get too curious kid. Stick your neck out too much, and you'll get your head chopped off."
Literally or figuratively?
The next room was, again, white, though for some reason, the lighting wasn't as bright. And once again, there was an unfamiliar man waiting for him. This time, there was a group of people surrounding him, and the hood of his cloak completely hid his face from view.
Pausing for a moment, Alfred was so busy staring that he didn't notice the two figures behind him until they grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the man. Initially surprised, he began to struggle, which was clearly wasted effort. Their grip on him didn't loosen at all, his resistance completely ignored. They stopped before the hooded figure, who reached out and grabbed the boy's chin, pushing his face up.
"So much energy…"
Sapphires stared into the hood, hoping to catch a glimpse. Instead, he felt an unexplainable terror ripple through his body. He couldn't see anything but shadows, but he felt the power, the intense force. No logic behind the unexpected fear that gripped his soul. He just knew that this being was dangerous. A dominating influence that demanded submission.
"Do you feel it, child? The ki, the life energy, that I emit?"
Unable to answer, Alfred merely stared.
"Yes, you have potential. To feel my ki and still retain consciousness, no doubt you have possibilities."
He let go and waved his hand in the air. A pressure wrapped around Alfred's neck, constricting slightly before loosening enough so he could breathe comfortably.
"Whatever name you had in the past is now insignificant. From here on, you are 10-83."
A/N: Not exactly the sequel I had promised, but another story idea I had. I promise that I'll add the same amount of angst in this one too (and probably more?). As for the sequel, I'll add a notice in APR once I post it.