Chapter One
Stranger One
The Stranger made his way through Fiskrtre, unimpressed with every new sight he saw. The town was nothing but crumbling ruins filled with the destruction and the smell of the long dead. The travellers he had met on the road had told him as much, in-between staring at him with unease. They also claimed a small group had set up in the town to work on rebuilding and preparing it for new settlers to move in. As the Stranger walked, he saw more and more destruction that he began to think an army would be required to rebuild this much damage, not a small group.
As the man neared the centre of the town, having come from the south entrance, he saw what appeared to be a cleared pathway leading towards the harbour. The cleared path connected in the centre of the town where the crumbling remains of a large manner resided. As he watched, he slowly made out figures crawling their way through the debris carrying tools and guiding horse and carts filled with rubble. The appearance of the creatures made him clutch at the small dagger he had been given, almost retrieving his friends weapon from his bag. The creatures however seemingly cared little for him as they continued with their work not even glancing in his direction.
The creatures where roughly two feet tall, hunched over and crawling like a rat, only standing on their back legs to complete whatever task they required before going back to crawling around. They had long muscular tails that many were using to hold tools and equipment, some even hanged like monkeys with them. Their hands were four claws that appeared razor sharp and allowed many to climb on walls and surfaces to complete their jobs. Their bodies were covered in black fur leaving only the underside of their body clear as well as their narrow faces. Their eyes were beady and pure black, more useful in a cave than under the sun. They had mouths in the shape of long beaks that curved downwards with small holes near the tip.
The Stranger continued to watch, impressed at how productive and efficient they were as they moved as though they were one mind, passing tools and equipment while holding objects for one another without even needing to ask. Finally, one of the creatures sniffed the air through the tiny holes in the top of their beaks, looking in his direction. The creature let out a squawk that brought hundreds of beady eyes staring in his direction, most moving to clutch their tools as weapons, terrified.
The Stranger and the creatures stared for what felt like an eternity, as if they were invisible if they did not move. So, both groups waited for the other to act. The stalemate was only ended when one of the creatures with black robes and clutching a staff made of solid bone crawled his way into the clearing, seemingly upset. He squawked in their direction, causing the creatures to assume their tasks once more as though the man was no longer there. The newcomer then set his eyes upon the Stranger before crawling over to him and tilting his head like a confused dog.
“If you are here to fight then we submit, we will agree to whatever terms you demand.” The creature says with an almost birdlike squark mixed into the words; however, his words were pronounced with confidence of a fluent speaker. The Stranger relaxed seeing these creatures pose no threat, however he kept his blade at hand in case this was a ruse to weaken him. He lowered the hood of his warn beaten cloak, showing his deeply scarred face to the creature.
“I am not here to fight, merely a man far from home. I am simply looking for food and a place to rest my head?” The Stranger replied with a half-truth, confused about what these strange creatures were. He had seen countless creatures during the war, none looked like this.
“I wish I could help, however we have very little to offer, especially for a human’s pallet.” It replied with a chuckle that sounded more like a whistle. “You are a human, one from west Eden, correct? I have worked with your lot before in the mines back home, you're a hard-working lot. Come with me, I shall share what we have, in return I only ask for your story, it must be a good one for you to be so far from home?”
The creature did not wait for a reply, crawling away. The Stranger considered it could be a trap, yet decided to follow anyway confidant he could fight off any assault. As they continued through the city, more and more of the small creatures appeared almost as though they were a swarm rushing throughout the town, taking no notice of him. Finally, they reached an entrance to a small sewage system that ran underneath what was once the wealthy part of town from its appearance. Descending underground put the Stranger on edge, however he was fascinated by how they had attempted to make it more homely. They had cleared up as much as they could, putting small candles and items they had collected, no doubt from the rubble, on display as decoration. They entered a room off from the main pipe, finding it oddly roomy. It had been turned into a communal area with a small fire pit, the smoke floating up a tube and through a grate in the ceiling. Chairs and tables were made from debris and common household items. The Stranger even noticed a noblewoman’s dress being used as a tablecloth by several of the creatures. As they chewed on small bones with charred flesh, the grease dripped onto the silk.
Eventually they reach a small cove with a table missing two legs, both having been replaced by rocks and several chairs made of piles of books. The Stranger sits across from this new odd being, watching it squawk across the room to one of his kinsmen. The female tirelessly rushed throughout the room feeding and giving filthy water to those who request it. The Stranger and his new companion say nothing at first. The silence being broken when two bent and dirty cups filled with murky water, and two small morsels of meat still on the bone appear in front of them. The Stranger decides it is best not to ask where either came from. Out of a concern he will offend his host, he begins eating the badly cooked meat, but only after he takes the first bite.
“May I ask, what are you? I mean no insult, but I have not encountered your kind before?” The Stranger asks in between tearing off what little meat the bone had and sipping the water attempting to hold back a grimace.
“We are skal, I must admit I'm surprised you do not know of us. We are a plentiful race, owned by many in Scarvo.” The creature says tearing the meat away from his bone with a small hum of satisfaction as he does. “Are you new to our shores?”
“I have been here two weeks.” The Stranger replied shortly, not wanting to reveal he had come before, the last time being when he had brought the capital low. Glimpses of razing the Midnight city entered his mind, unleashing the anger of seventy-two years of suffering as humanity reaped their vengeance for their fallen Emperor. His eyes remained on the creature, wondering how it would react if it knew. It nodded solemnly, ceasing its eating as thoughts clouded it's mine too.
“I hope your being here is not part of some invasion?” It asked carefully as it stared up at him. Max wondered what about him told the creature he was a soldier. Was it his scar covered face, the cold aura he exuded or perhaps his eyes that Chris claimed were overrunning with pure rage. Wanting to ease the creature’s distress, Max replied truthfully.
“I was a soldier during the immortal war, for the last forty-seven years however I have been nothing but a prison guard.” Max said with a smile he hoped put the creature at ease but felt alien to his face.
“That was a bloody affair, while my race did not take part in the fighting, we were worked to the bone within the mines and factories, all to produce weapons and equipment for the war. I lost many of my kinsmen from accidents or being worked to death just to keep up with the demand. I lost even more when the counterattack came and the bombardments tore open the earth, allowing water to flood our hive, drowning many that slept beneath.” The Stranger expected anger to appear on his companion’s face, however it remained solemn, merely stating the facts like it happened to another.
“I understand your loss, I lost many good friends, as well as more brothers than I wish to think on.” The Stranger replied, no animosity towards these small creatures, only a small pang of distrust. He saved his hatred for the elves and the other races that marched in their army. “The way you speak, I take it you're a slave then?” The Stranger asks curious about these creatures and not wanting to linger on the war.
“I would not say slave, a slave is forced into servitude, my kin would have it no other way. We live to serve as that is our purpose, it is what we were designed and created for. We live to fulfil the desires of others, as that is how my kin survive.” The creature said solemnly as the two settles into devouring both the food and the statement he just spoke. “My name is Minion, may I ask your name stranger?”
“You can, I can't give it to you however as I had it stripped from me, along with my purpose as a punishment.” The Stranger replies, staring into the water as a bitter taste fills his mouth.
“What did you do to cause that kind of punishment?”
“It was several mistakes fuelled by anger and stubbornness.” The stranger replied thinking back to the second worst moment of his life. The Old Man stripping him of everything, leaving him to die as a man without a purpose or reason to live.
“Nothing leads to bad decisions more than anger.” Minion joked, his face giving off many signs of a smile, however his beak preventing it. The Stranger twist his lips into a grin, trying his best to be civil for a moment before losing it once more.
“I'm surprised you're fine joking with a human, shouldn't you be blaming me for destroying your lives and my ancestors forcing you out of Eden?” The Stranger says, surprised this creature is so comfortable in his presence.
“I no more blame you for the actions of your ancestors then I blame the ancestors of the elves we swore ourselves to, for the actions of their descendants’. As far as I'm concerned, everyone's a bastard when you look at them as a collective.” Minion says with a slight grin before it sobers, and he continues. “Besides, how do you think I speak fluent imperial? You are not the first human I have seen, back home I worked with many humans who had been enslaved. I know not all of you are as evil as the elves claim, just as I know not all of them are as evil as your kinsmen claim.”
Both leave a lot unsaid with that statement, as the end of the Immortal War was only forty-seven years ago, the events still rippled across the world having left a sour taste and an ingrained hatred in everyone it touched.
“This is ridiculous, I cannot simply call you nothing, you need a name, even I have a name. The question is, what is most fitting for you.” Minion sized him up, taking note of his features. The Stranger had light green eyes that flared with colour, becoming like torches in the night when his emotions were high. His body was covered in thick white scars from countless battles, his hair was short and brown having been cut haphazardly with a blade. His most prominent features were his monstrous size at just under seven feet tall, and his muscles that bulged giving him the appearance of a human giant. “Perhaps Abel, Buel or Taft? I know you children of the west like to have four letter names and I have worked with men using those names. They were strong and noble. Or we could call you something strong sounding, like Thunder or Mountain, you look like a Mountain to me.”
The Stranger raised an eyebrow at that, making his first joke in a long time.
“Nice to know what you think of my appearance, I will be named after my size if you change yours too Stumpy?” He said unable to help the grin as they both laughed, despite the pang of loss the Stranger felt at being called a child of the west.
“Fine, I've got one, we should call you Max.” Minion said as his eyes shot up in excitement. “It's perfect, there was this tale of a giant human warrior that went by that name, he had your same disposition being a towering monstrosity. He was also a ruthless murdering butcher however who steals children, so perhaps it's not the best.”
“Max, I like it, simple and strong.” The Stranger said before milling over the name and deciding that being named after a towering warrior was fitting.
“Then it is settled,” Minion laughed before raising his cup in a toast, which Max matched happily. He downed the contents, remembering instantly it was not wine but instead vile water. “So, tell me Max, why have you come to Scarvo? You must know how they treat humans here?”
“It's complicated.” Memories flood his mind, making his grin disappear. “When I had my name taken, I was told I would never again be allowed to step foot on Eden. Even if I could go back, there would be no point. I was trained from childhood to be a warrior, I know nothing else, now that is gone. I am not sure what my purpose is anymore. Since the war ended, I have remained at the Three Shields, helping to turn the fortress into a prison. The work ensnared me both body and soul, that was, until I received a letter.”
“What did it say?” Minion asked, looking at Max like he was a bard.
“It spoke of a promise made to me long ago, a promise I have craved since the war ended. A warrior’s death, one that will send me home to my brothers.” Minion nods with a wisdom in his eyes that screamed of understanding. “It also spoke of other things, of a woman being held captive by a warband near here. The letter pleaded with me to help her, speaking of promises I made to a dying brother as I was in the midst of grief. Since then, I have been fuelled by a desire. I want to figure out who sent this letter, they have much to answer for and promises to keep.”
The two talked for many hours after that, mostly about simple subjects as well as what Minion and his group were doing there. He claimed an elf by the name of Darius Sorbus, a disgraced Prince, had been tasked with clearing the town up and repairing the port. Many of the southern cities had been razed during the war, causing the remaining cities to be overrun with refugees. Darius was sent there as a punishment for offending the King, according to Minion, however he did not know what he did.
Darius took spare skal from his family’s forge, after struggling to get a larger workforce as most were fixing the Midnight city still to that day. Since then, for the past two months, they had been chipping away at the town clearing as much as they could. Their main task was to insure easy access of materials both by land and sea, as well as clearing many of the houses for the new settlers.
The work had been dangerous and costly already, as seven of his kin had already been killed, not because they were incapable of doing the work but because Darius had provided little food for the expedition. What he had brought he had been using for himself and his guards, who spent their days on the south entrance to the town drinking and relaxing. This oversight had put them dangerously behind their already tight schedule, as the settlers would be arriving in two weeks, yet they were forced to provide their own food and water. As the skal were a hard-working hive, they all wanted to do what they could to avoid the others being punished, so worked until exhaustion which led to accidents and deaths. After hearing this Max was angry however Minion showed no signs of feeling the same.
“So, you must suffer because that pointy is simple minded? Why do you serve him if he can't even feed you?” Max asked using the term of ‘pointy,’ a term humans who hated elves used. Max knew the skal likely did not have a choice, his hatred for the elves however fuelled his blood.
“What else can we do? Look at us, we are small and pathetic creatures, most of us barely have the intelligence of a dog. The only reason we have survived this long is because we are hardworking, industrious and make ourselves useful however we can. We're not warriors, we are not intelligent, we are servants who work to fulfil the Grand Design.” Minion said with his eyes levelling Max's.
“That's some submissive bullshit if ever I have heard it, I don't care if you are one foot tall instead of two, if you have a knife and you stab me in the neck, my size matters for nothing.” As soon as he said it Max shook his head, fighting back years of pent-up rage, knowing it was not his place to question their race.
“And what then? They would order a war band to hunt us down and destroy us all. Without a master to serve, my race would crumble as without a leader to guide us, we are nothing. Like I said, we are not a smart race, nor are we tactical, we were designed by the Gods for the purpose of being the workforce for a Kingdom, not the front-line troops.”
The two continue to stare, Max mostly out of stubbornness. If they wanted to submit, that was their decision, he just wished they didn’t do so to pointy scum. He knew it was just his hatred for the elves driving him, he knew there needed to be rulers and servants, he just didn’t want the elves to be in the ruling class. As the words pondered in his mind, something occurred to him.
“Do you find purpose in serving, even if they are pointy?”
“I do find purpose in it, it makes me happy, working with my hive to complete a great project and accomplish goals as one, it fills me with happiness and pride at my accomplishments. What greater purpose is there than working with those you love to create works of art, that also help others?” Minion says, filled with passion and emotions that Max mourned. His previous purpose inspired him like that, but now he had nothing driving him forward other than anger and an unkept promise.
“So, is this the Grand Design you mentioned? Working together to build something?”
“No, the grand design is the purpose each race has been given by the Gods themselves, to unify us to accomplish whatever goals they require. Instead of being fuelled by gold like your people, we are fuelled by completing our purpose. We all have a job; we must do it as to fail would weaken the design.”
“So, you have no freedom? From birth your race is predestined to be servants? That hardly seems just when the elves are predestined to be at the top?” Max argued, finding the Grand Design to be more worrisome than he had thought. Being born into the Legion, Max was pushed to be a warrior, however even they had the choice to choose a different path before taking the oath, even if to do so would mean losing your family.
“Is it not better than your ways of weakening yourselves through petty infighting and squabbles? Instead of fighting to climb the ladder, you instead know your place at the bottom and simply work to strengthen it, instead of trying to push whoever is above you off? Instead of spending my days fighting for better, I can be happy with what I have.” Minion argued back and Max could not entirely disagree.
The two entered a long silence as both pondered the other’s words, while dismissing them out of arrogance or denial, before finally deciding they both needed to rest. Minion led Max into a small chamber filled with furs and clothing stolen from the houses above. They had been turned into a large bedding area, already filled with many skal already resting before their shifts begun. Uncaring, Max fell asleep surrounded by these creatures, who, while looking hideous, he could not help but feel like he owed them for their generosity.
He laid there staring at the ceiling as he realised Minion was the first creature to be nice to him since the end of the war. Back on the Shields Max was seen as a walking corpse, men avoided him, most warned of the infamous title he once held before even setting eyes upon him. Minion had accepted him, fed him, and gave him water when to do so for a human was a crime in Scarvo. As he pondered even further over their conversation, he realised that this race that was starving, gave him food when they can barely feed themselves in these strange lands.
He would have to repay them; he was strong, he could easily move large rocks and other manual work that small creatures would not be able to do. He decided he would ask Minion about it in the morning and would ask for no more than what food and water they could provide. In return he would help them complete this task on time. Perhaps this would give him a purpose, a reason to live and to not give into the desire once more. Perhaps it could even help him complete the task he was given, the one he was unsure if he should accept.
He remembered when he had read the letter that first time. He thought of the orders given, the section he did not tell Minion about, the task that was asked of him. Since reading that letter, he had pondered its contents and wondered if he should fulfil the orders written there. This strange woman was the key, she would lead him to his destination, although she was not to know. Max wondered however if he wanted this, to be dragged into some plot, to be manipulated by promises made and unkept. The first order was vague, it told him to come here to Fiskrtre, from here he was to find the warband that had the girl. He saw no warband though, not a trace.
The letter had been sealed by the Emperor himself, did that mean it was sent from the Iron City itself? Even if the words were the Emperors, Max wondered if he should care. The man meant nothing to him, Max didn't even know this new Emperors name before reading the letter. What right did he have to give Max orders? He was not Liam, just because he was his son did not mean he held a candle to the man. Even if he was worthy of Liam’s throne, considering the words that had passed between them on their last meeting, he was not sure how he felt about Liam, the man who cursed him.
Eventually his eyes gave way and sleep took him, however as it did, the same memories entered his mind. The fort, cloaked in black stone amidst a storming sea, with him standing atop it with the dead at his back. They chanted his name, soulless husks who lived to serve him, all but the hint of their past lives snuffed out.
Convincing Minion he wanted to repay his debt had proved difficult. The creature was uneasy about giving orders to him, but decided to put him to work removing several large trees that blocked the main road. Max quickly realised the skal had already attempted to remove the trees, however they did not have the strength or the proper equipment to do so. The axe that had been provided for him was blunt, and had its handle shortened so the shorter creatures could wield it. Before the work began, Max used the small sharpening stone that he had taken with him, sharpening the edge so the tool could complete its task.
With his newly sharpened axe, which was more of a hatchet in his hands. He began cutting away at the tree, within a few minutes having accomplished more than his companions had. As the day went on, he got better and better at chipping away at the trees. Always dropping them to the floor where the skal made quick work, chipping away at the branches, before tying the logs to their donkeys to be dragged away and used as construction material. His training kicked in and Max found himself competing to remove the trees faster and faster, dropping one tree in around ten minutes each. After that, he began challenging himself to chop down a tree before his companions could finish stripping the previous one. This was more difficult as they were numerous and seemed inspired by his work causing them to attack the fallen trees in a frenzy.
When the sun had finally started setting, Max found himself continuing, finding enjoyment in the mundane simple task that allowed him to ponder simple thoughts, such as how the trees had taken such strong roots where once stone paths covered the soil. His thoughts were interrupted when his small companions started calling to him in their strange bird like songs. Before waving him towards where they had set up a small clearing where they were consuming small bits of meat that had been brought for them. Max wanted to speak to his new friends however he quickly realised none spoke fluent imperial, in fact short of a few phrases most barely knew how to have a simple conversation. Instead of having a painful conversation where neither side truly comprehend the other, he simply listened to them squawk to one another as he consumed the strange meat and drank the black murky water.
When they returned to work Max found himself studying the creatures more closely, realising that while they were very industrious, they were also not very smart. Several times the creatures did things that puzzled him. The most alarming being when they attempted to remove a tree by felling it, however, were chipping away at the wrong side, sending it towards a building. Luckily Max had noticed and shown them the error of their ways. While the creatures were not very intelligent, they took orders very well and every time Max showed them a better way, they remembered the lesson, not repeating it again.
When finally the sun had set, he removed his last tree before making his way back to the sewer, still filled with energy even after a day of manual work. As he neared the entrance raised voices called his attention. When he realised, they were speaking in the old tongue, Max’s blood immediately began to boil. Keeping himself out of sight, he peered around the corner and saw a familiar face. They had not spoken, yet he had stood alongside the King when the elves had surrendered, a few hours after they detonated half their capital in an attempt to kill Max.
The elf was the embodiment of a Autem elf, arrogant and spiteful over the supposed wrongs that have been thrust upon them. His skin was pure white, however no longer had the glow that was common of the elves still living on mainland Eden. His eyes were slanted with sharp points showing the common blue eyes the Amalur elves had. He was missing one ear, clearly having been severed, no doubt during the Immortal War. His body was tall and lean but with the clear show of muscle, this made Max smile as in comparison to his, the elves muscles were pathetic.
“I said, get it done, I don't need excuses, do you really expect my brother, a possible future King to sleep in these slums! He shall have a manner of his own and it will be done on schedule!” The elf Darius commanded in the language of the old races known as the old tongue. Max’s old tongue was rusty; however, he knew enough to piece together most sentences.
“We are trying our hardest master, it is not that simple, we would have to clear a path to the manner as well as clear the entire building, it will take time and we still have much work to do for the settlers who are arriving.” Minion tries to explain only for Darius to step closer, staring down at the tiny creature as his eyes narrow even closer.
“If you cannot get it done then what use are you vermin, even after all this time you are too simple to understand that we are the thinkers. You would be nothing without our minds. All we ask is that you complete these simple, easy tasks we set you and even that you fail. I am going to make this very simple, stop thinking, as that is not what you were made for, just do the work.” Darius's voice remains low with a clear warning of violence being close at hand.
Seeing the arrogance of the elf made Max clutch the axe so tight the wood began to crack, imagining removing the other ear of the elf, before forcing it down his throat until he choked on it. His heart beats faster as his mind travelled back to the battlefield where he made these elves squeal, as all their arrogance and elegance meant nothing when he brought down his hammer upon them, making them bloody and filthy like everyone else. As his body began to act on its training, a clawed hand gripped his wrist. Max lifted his axe high, ready to sever whatever would stop him from completing his task, only to see a young skal staring up at him with small black eyes that almost appeared purple. The creature did not speak however, he just stared, giving Max the chance to rethink before lowering the axe and remembering his promise.
He turned to see Minion with his head low, apologising for thinking when he should be fulfilling his orders. Once more Max's blood boiled when Darius ordered Minion to apologise before pushing the creature to its knees, walking away high and mighty.
There was a sour mood that evening within the sewers as Minion gave a speech telling everyone of their new orders, while Max did not know what was said at the time, Minion explained after. There had been many outcries of surprise however none refused or even brought up refusal. Much to Max's horror, they instead begun offering to do even more hours, many saying they would work eighteen or nineteen hours every day. When Minion told him the child skal that had held Max back before, offered to do the same hours, he swore loudly before turning unable to listen to this passive weakness any longer. He went to the small feeding area and sat brooding, giving off an aura of such rage and anger that none would sit anywhere near him. Two tables were left between him and the others, he did not eat or drink but simply sat staring at the wall, rage bubbling to the surface.
Two hours would pass with him sitting there on the edge of taking his axe and hunting down Darius and removing the bastards head, until the only skal brave enough approached him. It was the same child that held his hand back and offered to work those ridiculous hours. The creature stared at him, its head tilted as it inspected the strange human, no doubt having never seen one. It climbed up on the table that had once been a barrel and stared into Max’s eyes.
“Can I help you?” Max asked as he stared back at the child unsure what it wanted. At this close he began to make out the strange bone structure in the face, it was narrower and seem to be missing the thicker bones that held a face together.
The creature squawked, tilting his head to the other side before reaching into a small satchel at its side, pulling out a small golden spyglass. It was ornate, having an iron snake spiralling around with the head of the snake resting near the top. Max immediately wondered how much it would be worth back home, where gold held more value. Eden used gold as its currency, while on Scarvo silver was what they valued most, often during peace they traded one for the other. Taking it in his hands, Max marvelled at the craftsmanship before offering it back to the child once more, only for the creature to shake its head, squawk once more then jump from the table and leave.
“He said it was a gift, to cheer you up so you stop scaring the rest of us.” Minion explained as he carefully approached, taking the seat opposite atop several books, refusing to make eye contact with Max. The two sat in silence, Max glaring towards his unlikely friend enraged but trying to lessen it. When finally Minion looked into his eyes, the creature did something Max had not expected, he yelled.
“What in the name of Lok do you want me to do! This is how things are, this is how we were designed! It's all well and good for you to tell us to stand up and cut down Darius, but we are not you! This is the way things have been since the dawn of my races time! This is what we were designed and meant to be! Who are you to question the God’s design?” He yelled so loud the room stilled and many of his kin flinched from his words.
“All that sounds to me is like an excuse for cowardness! I know about following orders, I did so even when I disagreed, but I never would do it for someone I don’t respect and who doesn’t respect me! You continue to serve them because you haven't got the balls to venture into the unknown in search of something better, or at the very least die trying!” Max yelled back, standing up and knocking the books to the floor, smacking the barrel hard enough to tear a hole into the lid. Minion did not back down, once more surprising Max.
“Don't pretend like you give a crap about us, you simply want to kill them because that is what you were trained to do, like the good little soldier you are, you can't look beyond your own personal hatred! Don't twist and fuck with my people simply so you can get some pointless revenge!” Minion roared back not backing down and in fact climbing atop the barrel so that his eyes were closer, but still nowhere near Max’s.
“Maybe you're right, maybe I am drowning in hatred and vengeance! Maybe I am willing to get you all killed simply to get revenge, however, don't pretend that anything I have said is wrong! You showed me a kindness and it pisses me off to see you getting shit on by those elven pricks who killed my brothers!” Max roared back lowering his body, so he was at eye level with Minion, beginning a pointless contest of wills. The stalemate was only broken when Max muttered one last retort. “If you're truly happy with the way things are, then why are you arguing with me, and why did you not tell him I was here? Think about that?”
With that Max walked away, making his way through the sewer system, not stopping until he was completely alone. His thoughts ran rampant as he thought over what Minion had said and wondered if perhaps, he was right. Was his desire for vengeance causing him to medal with the delicate system these two races had formed, or was he right? Perhaps… was the hunger returning? Was it pushing him to start conflict, knowing it would give him the souls he craved?
The next morning Max awoke finding Minion sitting across from him staring. The two shared a long look before Minion offered up a small bone with charred meat upon it. Giving a nod, Max reached out and took it, devouring the flesh while the two sat in silence until he finished.
“I know it's hard to understand for you, but this is…” Minion begins before Max interrupts levelling him with a cold stare.
“Please do not tell me this is how things are, I am not some child who thinks the world is full of roses and that the power of love will save us all. I am not saying you must rise up and be free, standing atop the world on your own island of independence. I'm merely suggesting that bowing down to these pointy eared fuckers and living in the same pipes their shit runs through is not a life at all.” Max replies swallowing his anger not wishing to fight.
“You know, my predecessor, known as Slug in your tongue, spoke very similar words to you.” Minion said after a long silence as he ran a claw across the floor, beginning to draw symbols like a child with paint. “I was second in command until a year ago, where my predecessor convinced a large portion of our hive that there was a better life out there. Since the elves lost to the humans, many of the old races have begun rising up, looking for a more powerful leader, no longer seeing the Midnight City as strong enough to rule. ‘This was our chance to grasp freedom ourselves,’ that had been what he claimed. We began stealing weapons from the forges we helped operate, training with them the best we could. We would fight our way out the city and make our way to the Northern Waste, looking for a leader who would give us pride in serving once more. The day came, finally the uprising would begin.”
“What happened?” Max asked, already guessing the answer.
“It lasted for nine hours, before the elves sent a small force down to crush us like ants. Too few, including myself, were willing to fight when the time came. We froze, all our talk of bravery vanished. Those who did fight did not last long. To teach us a lesson in obedience, they ordered Slug to pick out one hundred of the hive who he wished to be spared punishment. He of course picked children and young ones who could continue on the hive. However, they had lied. Darius had the group Slug picked assemble before us, before incinerating them all with slow burning fire from elven Singers. Many of their mothers killed themselves trying to rescue their children from the fire, the fathers instead dying attacking the elves. Our hive still has not recovered from losing so many that day. Their screams still echo in my mind, every time I think for better. I learned that day that you should be happy with what you have, for the elves will not punish you for your crimes, but everyone around you instead. They have ruled too long, they will do anything to stay at the top of the ladder.” Minion blinked away tears and Max felt shame flood him.
Sometimes Max felt alone in his suffering, but he knew his story and Minions was the story of thousands caused by the Immortal War, that while over, the war was far from being forgotten.
“It is your choice; I cannot force you to join me in looking for a new purpose unless you want it. I swear I shall not kill Darius unless you give me permission, no matter what they should do to you and your kin. I hate him but I respect you more than my hatred.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your understanding.” Minion replied, emotions rushing behind his eyes.
“One last thing though, do not let them manipulate you. You hearing that screaming when you think of rebelling, is exactly the reason they did it.” Max said, making Minion halt for a moment before making his way back towards his people.
