Chapter One

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July 23rd in the 3848th year of the 16th Ultimatum

We find the 16th King on the Throne, ruling peacefully. The Threat of war is nonexistent...

A scream, blood-curdling, ripped through the air. I awoke, keeping my eyes closed. The sound of a whip rending apart flesh echoed through the dungeon and the man screamed again, his pleas for his torturers to stop echoed in my ears. I had enough. Sleep was hard to come by and this man was sorely disturbing that.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, "Can you maybe not torture people while I'm trying to sleep?!" I said with indignance. I knew his pain. The methods used here were not kind. All of us had suffered the same fate. The healing streaks of bloody scabs still arched my back from last week.

Silence followed my words, then faint voices, and finally booted steps headed down the hall, towards me and my cell. The man's sobs could still be heard, faintly.

The prison was dark except for a solitary torch down the corridor. My cage had enough room to stretch out and walk as far as the chain would let me and my hands were bound in cuffs with chains bolted to a rock wall. They gave me enough freedom to walk about three paces in either direction, but I couldn't reach the door. These shackles were the newest addition to my cell, after my recent break out using the rib bone from a rat as a lock pick. I wasn't careful and was caught when the door leaving the prison was locked and my pick had broken.

As the footsteps came closer, I got as close to the cell door as I could and was greeted with a torch that was so bright, I was momentarily blinded. I hadn't seen that much light in the—what was it now? Four months since my incarceration? I lost track of the days. I hadn't seen any light aside from torches when the guards brought food for my fellow prisoners and me.

The man with the torch spoke, "Do you need double punishment because of your outburst?" he hissed coldly. My eyes adjusted and I got a look at the man before me. His name was Alekai, his face was worn, yet young, representing a man in his early thirties. Creases lined his mouth and forehead from too much frowning. I could tell because these crinkles were so deep that the torchlight threw them into heavy shadows. In the torchlight, I could tell he had lighter brown hair that hung in gentle curls around his face. He was a good-looking man in a mature sort of way but the sneer he possessed made him ugly in my eyes.

"No," I spat. The punishments were lashings, but then they would heal you to the point where infection wouldn't settle in though you were still in terrible pain. It would cause the suffering to last for days until the wounds fully healed, then they would bring you out for another punishment. It happened every week like clockwork. The tallies on the wall told me my time was tomorrow.

"Because you're weak," he said in a sickly-sweet voice. Alekai smirked as he tapped the pommel of the sword that hung at his belt with a finger. The blade was the same shade as freshly spilled blood and glimmered dangerously in the torchlight. The edge was razor sharp and just as deadly. Rumor had it that he was an ex-assassin in a league called The Red Blades. These were the most ruthless of any assassin: dangerous, vicious, and bloodthirsty. I could only hope that I would never meet one.

He smirked when I didn't respond and moved away, taking his guards and the light with him.

My chains rattled noisily as I pulled on them, "Well, at least my face doesn't look like a chicken...popsicle..." My voice faded with the final words. Good one. My inner voice told me sarcastically. Alekai didn't react but just kept walking, although I heard a slight pause in the rhythm of his steps. There was no mistaking that I had him on edge.

I took this opportunity to make a bunch of noise with my chains to make a point. He knew the punishments wouldn't get me to behave and he couldn't really stop me because that meant I got on his nerves.

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