Alphen: Awakening

Green.

Smoke.

Fire.

Molten.

Sky.

Rocks.

What?

Where?

He was first aware, really aware outside of the fuzziness of things, when he was looking up through slits at a dirty canvas. He sat up, wanting to rub at the crust around his eyes, only to find his face covered in a smooth mask. He reached around the end of it, feeling the shape. It didn't obstruct the movement of his head. He could pull the mask forward from his chin enough to reach his fingers and up to his mouth and nose, but not really past that. Strange.

Had he always had a mask?

…Did he have a name?

He looked around, noting that the dirty canvas was the top of an awning, wondering where he was. Beyond the awning were stones and rocks, pebbles dirt, and a haze of smoke up in the air.

"How are you even sitting up?!"

The voice was muffled with the mask, his own breathing sounding louder than it, but it made him tense, shuffle quickly, back against the wall, head twisting wildly to find the source of the sound.

"Woah there, easy, easy."

Through the slits he saw a man, sitting on the ground with him, hunched over, and watching him.

He tried to respond, only to find a garbled sound come out of his mouth. He swallowed and tried again. "Where-"

"Mosgul."

The name meant nothing to him.

"..Who.."

"I am a doctor. Or what passes for one in this hellhole."

That took a moment to understand. The language felt… off somehow. But it wasn't the answer he was looking for. He shook his head and tried again. "Who… am… I?"

The man's eyes widened. "Hm. That's a good question. I was going to ask you. But for now, how are you sitting up?"

Again that took time to hear. Partly the muffling the mask did around his ears made listening hard, his own breath drowning out noises. Partly the language felt… off. Simplified? Rougher? Off. Just off. But still familiar.

Sitting up. How was he sitting up. What sort of question was that?

He looked down at himself and saw dirty bandages across his chest, his pants torn and burnt. "What…?"

"Hm. If you don't even know your name it's no surprise you don't know how you got hurt, but you are hurt."

The string of words took another moment to hear and understand, but the man… The doctor, came over and gently guided him back to lying down. Once he was flat he realized that it was easier to catch a breath. Strange. The doctor slowly tapped along his torso, palpating. It was an odd sensation.

"Oh yes, that rib is still broken," the doctor said. "How are you not screaming in agony, Mr. Iron Mask?"

He was faster to understand the words, but the echoing in his mask still took a minute to listen past. "I don't…"

But he was very tired.

So tired…

Where had his energy gone…

He next woke up to voices. Loud, muffled, speaking too fast to understand. One he could tell was the doctor, the other… there was a faint lilt under the words that set his teeth on edge. He tried to make out the words, but the muffling of his mask made it harder.

All he could make out was…

"Get to work!"

That sent something down his spine. He immediately sat up, spine straight, ready to follow orders. His breathing stuttered, but he ignored it. Work. He had to get to work.

"See, that Embedded is ready to work, now send him out-"

"He can't feel pain," the doctor said, deferentially. "If you want him to die within the day…"

"Can't feel pain? What a ridiculous thing! Get out of the way!"

He turned, watch the doctor get pushed aside, collapsing into another cot, as a massive armored soldier came up to him and pulled out a sword.

"NO!" the doctor shouted.

Instinct had him raise his arm in defense, twist around, breathing was suddenly harder and he coughed a stuttered breath, righting himself into standing. Something warm trickled down his forearm, but he settled to the balls of his feet, and waited.

Why was breathing difficult?

A moment of quiet, his own breath echoed in the mask.

The soldier looked at him, then down to the blood on his sword.

Blood?

He looked down to his arm, surprised to see a deep gash across his forearm. He should have felt that… shouldn't he?

"You see?" the doctor said, still dipping his head as he came over. "He feels no pain. He won't know when he's fit to work. I'll know better than him."

The soldier's helmet showed no emotion, but it glared nonetheless. "See that he's fit for work as soon as possible." A small turn to him. "Don't worry, Iron Mask. You'll work to your heart's content here."

With an almost perfect parade turn, the soldier marched out.

"Come on, Iron Mask, let's get you lying down. I need to check your ribs after all those acrobatics and now I need to stitch your arm."

"Oh… Sorry."

The doctor huffed.


"What do you say, Doc," he… Iron Mask asked. "Can I go out and work today?"

The doctor was palpating his ribs again. "Hmph. A day closer, but not yet I'd say."

Iron Mask frowned, though none could see it. "I've seen the people who come in to see you, doc," he said softly. "They're wasting away, barely able to do their shifts. I'm in better condition. I can help."

"Normally, I'd have already kicked you out," the doctor said, pulling away and tightening the bandages around his torso again, "but you don't feel pain. I can't trust that there isn't something else wrong that I'm not finding. If you have a hairline crack that I'm not aware of and the strain of anything makes it break, it could go into your lung."

"I've been here long enough for a bone to be stronger," Iron Mask replied. "You've already said my broken rib feels better."

"Cracked rib. And yes, the time it's taken for that to get stronger is enough time for a hairline crack to improve, but I don't know." The doctor sat back, pulling out his hair and retying it. "If you felt pain, you'd be able to guide me to things. A hitch of breath, a hiss of pain, a gasp, those would all tell me something. You could walk around with a hole in your gut, bleeding out and you wouldn't notice. I'm not even sure you know your limits."

Iron Mask could hear the frustration in the doctor, but… "I won't know my limits staying in bed all the time. People out there are struggling and I can help. Doc… please…"

The doctor, hunched forward from always leaning over patients, sighed all the way down. "Tonight. Tonight after dark, I'll show you around. I want you to stay here before you're given any sort of hut, so I can monitor you."

Iron Mask smiled and nodded. He only knew the doctor's little cave and the cots within. He was strangely anticipating seeing what was beyond the blanket that gave privacy at the entrance. "You got it, Doc."

In the meantime, he lay in bed, and helped Doc with what he could, darning bandages, stitching tears, small repairs of tiny instruments where he could focus through his slits and ignore everything else. Two patients were brought in. One had fainted from heat exhaustion and then faced a beating, the other had barely dodged out of the way of a heavy barrel, and damaged their ankle. Doc lay them out in his cots, and tended to each. A soldier came in to take information on when they could get back to work, which Doc was always cagey about. "They'll be ready when they're ready. I haven't even finished examining them yet."

Iron Mask turned his head to watch, fingers still stitching. The soldier's armor was massive, making the soldier stand easily two feet taller than everyone, but the sound of it as he walked made Iron Mask think that most of it was empty, that the man inside was likely smaller than the armor implied. But the soldier's steps said trained. Well-trained in how he walked and kept his balance, and moved about.

And yet… To Iron Mask's eyes, the solider seemed bored. Not even noting anything that Doc said. Just nodding and giving threats to get the patients better soon. It seemed… boring for the soldier. Which struck Iron Mask as strange. Cruelty was boring? But he shook his head. He didn't even know who he was. What did he know of things? All he wanted to do was help. There were people out there who needed it, and he could give it.

That night, Doc guided him to sit up slowly, careful of the cracked rib that Iron Mask couldn't feel. Once upright, he trusted Iron Mask to be able to move, but hovered close by.

"Welcome to Mosgul," Doc said, pulling back the linen door. "A work camp in Calaglia. We mine minerals, suffer, and die here." Watching him carefully, the doctor led him up a path to a series of dilapidated hovels, some caved in, some with planks for a roof. Doors and windows were open for any airflow, and from what Iron Mask could see inside, beds were just blankets on rocks near a small fire to cook.

"Why are the structures so haphazard?" he asked. "Some small repairs, could make things more sturdy and it wouldn't take much to finish a roof."

The doctor huffed. "That requires, time, resources, and energy. That couple over there gave up a week of sleep to make their room as nice as it is, after scavenging from the trash heap. That man now has one arm as punishment for 'stealing'. And is still expected to haul. The woman is missing all her toes."

"For trying to improve their living situation?"

"For stealing from the Renans. Us Dahnans don't cross the Renans."

Iron Mask nodded. At the top of the hill was a small pond, where a few people… Dahnans… were filling clay pots of water for the night. Iron Mask looked around, and turned to look back downhill, where he saw the watchtowers with armored soldiers on top. Still…

"Why do I always smell smoke?" he asked.

"We're in Calaglia."

Iron Mask turned to Doc, confused.

"Right, no memories," the doctor huffed. "Calaglia is the land on fire. See that firelight off in the distance there?" He gestured down the hill much further away.

"That's not another row of homes?"

"No, that's just a line of fire, sprouting from the rocks."

Iron Mask balked. "None of us even notice the smoke any more, though it will kill us if we live long enough. All that smoke isn't good for the lungs. Although…" the doctor looked up to him, brow raised. "Hm. I wonder if that mask of yours filters the smoke out. I keep trying to convince people to wear masks to filter out at least some of the smoke, but we're all so beaten down, most don't see a point in prolonging life, never mind avoiding a painful death from breathing all that smoke."

Iron Mask blinked. No need to prolong life? Were things that bad?

"But this is where you'll be once I kick you out of my cave. Probably in one of these rooms. Once your shift is over, your time here is free to use as you see fit. Most try to rest, or see me, or forage for food."

Iron Mask nodded. "And how long are shifts?"

"Sunrise till two hours after dark. It's absolutely miserable in the summer, at sixteen hours. You're lucky that right now we're in fall. By winter it will be twelve hour shifts."

"Hn. Sixteen hours of manual labor?" Iron Mask asked as they started back down through the residential hovels. "Doesn't the human body need rest during all that? A runner can run all day, but don't they need a lot of food to replenish all that?"

The doctor grunted. "Why do you think everyone here is so thin? The Renans make sure their livestock has enough food and caloric intake for the next day's work. That leaves us very little strength for things like home improvement."

Iron Mask could only frown. That seemed wrong.

Back down the hill, they reached the doctor's cave and then turned to head up another hill to a flat area sheeted in metal with massive engines that were churning. Under the smoky stars, Iron Mask could just make out tracks below the metal platform.

"This is probably where I'll suggest you work," the doctor said. "Loading and hauling. A bit more physical than I'd prefer, but you have more muscle on you than most of us. And it's close enough to me that you will check in with me. If the Renans put you down in the mines, well, best make yourself good and available here. Most of Mosgul does hauling and transport."

"So, are we an economic hub?"

The doctor actually barked out a laugh. "No. We're a passthrough for trains on their way to Ulzabek. If you can call that place an economic anything."

He didn't understand, but Iron Mask nodded anyway.

"You there!"

Iron Mask startled, having not heard anyone coming, and spun swiftly, putting himself instinctually in front of the doctor, on the balls of his feet, ready for anything.

"Captain," Doc dipped his head. "Giving a patient exercise."

The soldier came forward, and Iron Mask wondered how he hadn't heard the clanking armor until he realized the muffled nature of his mask and the engines running next to him.

"This the Iron Mask I've heard about?"

"Yes."

"Good to see he already has a healthy sense of fear of his betters." The soldier towered over them in the armor that was larger than the person within, the faceless helmet seeming to glare. "If Iron Mask here is up and moving, he's ready to work. I expect him at first light tomorrow."

The doctor let out a quiet sigh. "Of course. He'll still spend nights with me before getting quarters, so I can monitor his condition."

"Fine, fine," the captain said. "Whatever." Leaning forward into their personal space, he added. "Get going."

"Yes, yes," the doctor said. "Come on."

Iron Mask stayed between the doctor and the captain.

Back at the doctor's cave, Doc insisted on Iron Mask laying back down and palpating around the ribs.

"Whether I agree or not, you'll start working tomorrow," Doc said tiredly. "And you not feeling pain means you won't know if the ribs crack again or break. You'll have to pay attention to your breathing. If it gets hard to breathe, make sure to come see me. Most Renans understand Dahnans coming to me as it means I can give them their slaves back faster. Lost livestock is a waste after all."

"I see," Iron Mask said quietly.

The doctor sat back and looked at him. "You know, for someone with no memory, this whole slavery thing doesn't seem unfamiliar to you."

Iron Mask frowned. "It's the way it is, right? That's common knowledge. Dahnans are slaves, Renans are in charge."

"Hm. I suppose no memory doesn't work the same way I was expecting. It's not like I can read to find out more about the subject."

Iron Mask tilted his head. "You can't read?"

"No. No slave can. At least not here in Calaglia. Once in a while we get a rumor of slaves in other realms who can read and write, but we here are kept in the dirt."

Strange. Iron Mask was fairly certain he could read the warnings on the engines they had walked by earlier. Just who was he?

He tried to remember. He tried to reach back before waking up under the dirty canvas awning, tried to remember being a child, or remember learning to read. He tried to think of his favorite food or his journey to Mosgul.

All he got was a headache.

"Don't pressure yourself," Doc said. "Here," he provided some stale bread. "You'll need food in your stomach for tomorrow."

Iron Mask pulled his mask the tiny space he could, and pushed in the small pieces of bread he could tear off.


The following morning, Iron Mask was up before dawn, stretching. He knew he was going to be hauling goods so it was best to limber up before putting his muscles to work. He'd been in the Doc's clinic for a while now, and Iron Mask was oddly looking forward to testing his muscles and feeling them stretch. Doc watched him, frowning.

"I've never seen some of those stretches before."

"Really?" Iron Mask asked. "This all feels natural to me."

"Hm. Perhaps the muscle remembers things the mind doesn't." The doctor stepped over and palpated along the ribs again. "I think you'll be okay today, but watch your breathing. If anything gets difficult for no reason, come see me immediately. Tell the Renans you need to see me. They'll escort you down. The captain and I have that understanding at least."

Iron Mask frowned. "Understanding?"

"About ten years ago, there was a different captain in charge," the doctor explained. "Cruel son of a bitch. Enjoyed beating us and encouraged his men to beat us regularly. We lost a lot of people under that captain. He was replaced with this captain. This captain is just as cruel and his punishments are incredibly severe, but he knows that livestock needs to live to produce. He's the reason I even have this little cave. It was conveniently close to the loading area, so I can get his livestock back to him faster."

Iron Mask shook his head feeling a lot of things. While it was better to have Doc, the fact that he had to be allowed to work… That seemed wrong. A lot of this seemed wrong. But Iron Mask couldn't stop being Dahnan. He couldn't stop being a slave. That was how things were.

It didn't feel right.

So he took a deep breath. Held it. And let it out.

"Right. Where do I report for work?"

"Where else? The loading area."

Iron Mask nodded and headed out and up. Doc had fixed him breakfast, loaves of bread and some grilled mushrooms, telling him to save one of the loafs for later. He also gave some old dirty linens that Iron Mask wrapped around his shoulders and waist. Assuming he was hauling, he would need cushioning on his shoulders and to soak up sweat and the wrapping on his waist he used as a pouch to stow the extra loaf.

Up at the loading area, Dahnans were already gathering and forming neat lines. Iron Mask simply placed himself in a line that was forming. No one said anything or gave him a look. They all just stood there, looking exhausted and miserable.

The captain went up and down the lines, checking off names, each name checked off being dismissed to start working swiftly, and paused at Iron Mask.

"Iron Mask. The Dahnan that came from nowhere."

Iron Mask stood there.

"Doc says you don't feel pain."

"I don't."

"And that you don't remember much of anything."

"Not since waking up with the doctor."

"Hmph. Well, Embedded, we'll see how well you remember your work today. You are to offload the incoming train of goods, and load it with the outgoing cargo." The captain looked Iron Mask up and down. "If your faulty memory can't handle that, you'll face punishment."

Iron Mask could only nod. What else could he do?

He stepped forward and walked out into the blazing hot sun, the rising smoke of the fires that were abound, and went up to where he could read the faded signage for the offloading area.

An older man was there, perhaps four decades, and glanced over.

"Ah, so they've assigned the Iron Mask to us," he said gruffly. "Don't mess anything up and we'll be fine."

Iron Mask nodded. "What should I do?"

"You can already hear the train, it will be here in a few minutes. We need to offload supplies. The barrels are heavy, they don't let us roll them unless it's one of the little ones, or the barrel is obscenely large." The man looked at Iron Mask, with bags under his eyes and a tired weariness. "Just fall in line and move like the ants we are. Got that?"

"Of course."

The train that rolled in was massive, heavy train cars that were several meters high. The zeugles that lead them were massive armadillos, creatures he'd seen cresting hills of their hovels. The animals were manned by a soldier, pulling reigns and skidding to a walk, giving the train cars time to slow, before stopping completely. The creatures were panting, Dahnans running up to unhook them as a new pair were led in to replace them. Iron Mask simply got in line and went down the stairs to the lower loading area where one of the massive sides of the train cars slid aside to the stifling interior. Iron Mask walked in, following the line to the back most corner along a path of barrels as one barrel at a time was given to one of the Dahnans to lift onto their shoulders and haul out. The man Iron Mask had been speaking to was apparently in charge as he pulled barrel after barrel down to the next Dahnan in line.

Taking his own barrel, Iron Mask followed the line of Dahnans out to the loading area, under the watch of a soldier, to the back lines where the barrels were being neatly placed for a Renan to inventory. Once the barrel was placed, Iron Mask followed the line back in, through the hissing steam of the train, under the bright, almost blinding morning sun, and the stuffy, stifling interior of the train. Iron Mask worked without pause, keeping pace with his fellow Dahnans. The sun continued to rise and sweat was regularly streaming down everyone's arms and backs and faces. Walking back and forth, Iron Mask needed to quickly run his sweaty fingers under his mask to try and wipe sweat from his eyes with minimal success since he couldn't get much further than his nose. He wondered if there was some tool he could use to push fabric further up into the mask to soak up the sweat so he could see better. The sound was loud and omnipresent, the engines in the upper loading area, that, if Iron Mask was following the pipes correctly, was refueling the train, the hiss of the train engine and steam exhaust, all of it muffled from his mask under the sound of his own breathing.

He did watch his breathing, like Doc said to, but he didn't notice any hitches or stutters in his breathing like when he had first woken up under Doc's care. Just the heavier breath of working out. But the morning went on.

And on.

And on.

The sun was directly over the ravine, all the Dahnans were stained in sweat, but the train cars were empty.

Iron Mask had slipped some bread into his mouth while walking back and forth and unloading, but what he really needed was water. The Dahnans were slowly sitting under the shade of the upper loading area, each pulling out something to eat like Iron Mask had. No one said anything under the sound.

But he was so thirsty. He tapped on the arm of a woman, who looked over to him in confusion and tiredness. He mimicked sipping water. None of the Dahnans had canteens on them, there had to be a way to rehydrate them.

She shook her head and pointed to the sun, then pointed to where the sun would be.

Iron Mask nodded, still ravenously thirsty. So he spread out his limbs to stretch after all that labor, to make sure his muscles didn't stiffen and that he remained limber in case of injury. A few Dahnans stared at him, but no one could comment. One of the soldiers walked by, counting Dahnans, but Iron Mask focused on keeping himself stretched, limber, and ready.

Because he was in the middle of a deep stretch, he was surprised when he looked up to see the Dahnans starting to get up. With all the noise and the echo of his own breath, he hadn't heard any signal, nor had he seen any. But he stood and fell into line as they all headed up the stairs from the lower docking area up into the midday sun. Iron Mask's stomach was still hungry, but he knew he had to make his loaf last for the rest of the shift, so he waited. Once in the upper area, children were rolling a cart that carried barrels of water that each Dahnan, one by one, took a cup of water from. Once everyone had their cup, the children made another circuit around, passing out water. Iron Mask struggled to get the water up under his mask without some sort of straw, cursing himself for not remembering to bring the one that Doc had made for him. He had his second wind, but he was itching from all the sweat and grime and soot and ash. He scratched into what he could of his hair at the back of his neck, before giving up. It pushed the mask too far down to see well.

The Dahnans all got into line to prepare for their next task, loading the train car they had just emptied. Unlike down in the lower loading area, where there was shade, the afternoon was entirely within the sun's bright light. Wagonload and wagonload of rocks and minerals were wheeled over to the opened top of the train car and dumped in. In the actual train car, a few Dahnans worked at leveling the cargo, while others were back at the dusty piles and filling the wagons that each Dahnan hauled. This continued for hours. If the streaming sweat was a problem below, that was nothing compared to being in the direct sun. Iron Mask knew his body was telling him it was hot, but he didn't feel it. He just continued like he always did, feeling the strain of the labor, grateful for his stretches earlier, and dumping load after load into the train car.

Half way through the afternoon a soldier stopped the line of Dahnans and everyone collapsed where they were. The children with the water came around again, this time granting three cups of water, and some Dahnans shuffled off behind the engines. Iron Mask followed long enough to realize this was where people relieved themselves and took the opportunity while he could. He was almost done with his bread, so he finished it off. He was feeling the strain of the day. This was a lot of heavy, manual labor. The hardest part was the hauling in the morning, but the afternoon wasn't exactly easy work either, directly under the sun. Several Dahnans had hands that slipped with the sweat, or they tripped over their own feet as the day went on.

After the water, it was more filling the car. More tedium. Iron Mask's mind wandered, wondering where he had come from. Why he didn't feel pain... But eventually his mind was numb. It was exhausting work. And as the sun set, once the train was full and powered up, rushing off to its next destination, the Dahnans headed back down to the lower docking area to once again handle what they had offloaded in the morning now that it had been fully inventoried. Now it was time to drag it all to the storage.

Given all the hard labor they had done all day, Iron Mask expected to roll the barrels to the wagons that would take the supplies to the garrison. Instead, once more, everyone had to heave one up to their shoulders to trudge down to the wagon outside of Doc's little cavern. Without the train engine, without the loading engine running at full capacity, Iron Mask wondered if people would start talking, but they were all too exhausted.

Two hours after sunset, the children were back with the cart of water, and a Renan soldier was by a large cook pot, spooning out bowls of some sort of stew as everyone went by to line up for the final inspection by the captain. Most collapsed in their line to start eating.

It wasn't enough food.

But they were dismissed, which left the long trek uphill to the settlement.

Iron Mask simply went to Doc's cavern, and sat heavily down in his cot.

"You survived your first day of work?" Doc asked.

Iron Mask nodded numbly.

Doc just nodded and came over with leftover cooked mushrooms from earlier. They sat in silence for a while. Iron Mask wanted to sleep but he was too tired to.

After about an hour, the Doc nudged him. "Shift's over. Time to prepare for tomorrow. You either start making your lunch now or trust making it in the morning."

"Now's better," Iron Mask said. His ears were still ringing after all the machinery. "What do we have?"

"Whatever you can forage."

Iron Mask stared.

"That's usually what the really young children do during the day. They learn early that whatever food they can find is what their parents will cook." The doctor shook his head. "If the parents are lucky, the children start learning to cook."

"But…"

But…

Iron Mask shook his head. Children should have fun. Children should laugh, grow, be loved. Yes, do chores, but take on that much responsibility?

It just wasn't right.


Author's Notes: In theory we wrote this roughly in chronological order, and since Alphen took so long to get in the game we compensated by giving him the last two chapters almost entirely to himself. We never wrote a scene about the actual workloads for the enslaved Dahnans, because it was on reserve for now with Alphen as his first exposure to life in this new world.

We made a point to drop hints that he was a man out of time - he doesn't remember it but he has the idea of what and how children and people were supposed to live. He stands on the balls of his feet in muscle memory of his life as a soldier, he can read, and he's used to more antiquated speech that makes him take a few seconds to acclimate to the world he's in.

As teachers who are contracted from 7-3 (ish) but usually work to 6, and then put in a good 5-8 hours on Sat... working this long is a pain. It sucks up so much energy and you're left with nothing after the fact. Just sit on your couch and troll youtube. Eugh.

Next chapter: Now that Iron Mask understand what the workload is like, let's make things hard for him. Final chapter, guys!