by Yi Zhu
As he licked the bowl clean, she handed him a cup of water, which Vince accepted gratefully.
“Only a week to go,” Lucia announced. “Your training ends today.”
Has it really been that long? Vince paused. He had just lived through one of the most painful periods of his life. But in an odd way, ever since he made the decision to try out, he felt much more fulfilled. For the first time, there was a clear path to his dream, and his life had a greater purpose.
The boy laid back down on the shoddy straw mattress and let out a satisfied burp. “Where did you find the meat?” he asked.
“It's human meat.”
“No, seriously,” he continued, not bothered by the joke. That was a line no one he knew had ever crossed.
“We found it in a storage house,” Lucia replied, and lay down next to him.
Her strength and presence always made him feel safe, so he shut his eyes and relaxed. But his mind still raced. The orphan gangs always had agreements with the populace in the zone they resided in. Stealing was off limits, but the children were allowed to loot and scavenge what they needed. In times of peace, the most common source of good loot came from the aftermath of tinker hunts. Somehow, Lucia always knew the location of such raids, sometimes even before they happened.
“Was it a family this time?” Although it wasn't his business, Vince wanted to know.
“No, just a young woman in her twenties,” Lucia replied softly. “Tinkers don't usually have families.”
“Good.” Though his reply sounded cold, he trusted Lucia to understand his meaning. One person risking his or her life to pursue his or her passion, that was something Vince could sympathize with. But no one should endanger the lives of family members so selfishly. The orphans would all kill for a family, and be prepared to give everything to keep them safe.
“Are you scared?” Lucia asked with both eyes closed, her voice laced with sleepiness.
Picking up on the weariness of her voice, Vince mentally kicked himself. During his training, he had complained and taken out so much of his frustration on her. All that time, he never stopped to think about how painful it must have been for Lucia to stand by and watch her precious brother suffer so much trauma. He shifted his body around to face her.
She's lost weight, he realized. Gently, Vince reached out to stroke her hair. From the bags under her eyes, he could guess she had stayed awake all night just to watch over him. “Of course I am,” he answered, doing his best to suppress the sorrow in his heart. “Scared of letting you down.”
Lucia smiled. “You don't have to be. We are all proud of you, little brother.” She let out a contented sigh, and continued, “The decision to stop your training wasn't mine alone—we all had a meeting and came to the same conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“You are going to give it your best,” she said, as if that settled everything.
“What if my best isn't enough?”
Without opening her eyes, Lucia reached out and lazily patted his cheeks. “Everyone voluntarily gave up their shares of the meat, and while you rest, there are people willingly standing guard, to keep you safe. Your best is all that we ask for, V, and it's more than enough for any of us.” She rested her hand on Vince's and stopped him from stroking her hair. “Because we are your family,” she finished, and drifted into sleep.
For hours, Vince simply lay there and let tears flow down freely. At one point, Isha sneaked in and wedged her tiny frame between the siblings, and fell asleep sucking her thumb. So much of his bitterness and resentment toward the world melted away in that single day. What filled the void was enough love to fuel the fire in his heart, and by the time he couldn't stay awake any longer, Vince could only think to himself: I am ready.
The week of respite flew by in a flash, and on the day of the Tryout the entire Wolf Gang Orphanage was bustling with activity even earlier than usual. Vince stared at his reflection in the water bowl disapprovingly. She got me again, he cursed. He loved Lucia more than anything in the world, but at this second, he wanted to kill her. While he had slept the night before, she had cut the long shoulder-length hair he had been so proud of. She didn't even have the decency to do it well!
He had pursued her around the orphanage for minutes while she tried to placate him by claiming it made him much more handsome.
The commotion had woken everyone in the orphanage, and they made no effort to stop this interesting chase. Some of them echoed Lucia's opinion, while others looked proudly on the champion they had helped train.
“Look how fast he runs; I taught him that,” Vince overheard one enforcer say.
By the time he caught up to her, his devious sister claimed she had stopped running to let him conserve strength, soliciting nods of approval from the now sizable crowd.
During the frantic hunt, his anger had driven him to keep pace with the extremely agile gang leader, but the moment it was over, Vince realized he couldn't raise a hand against his sister. So he cut a clump of her hair as well, hoping to provoke the same outrage. Much to his disappointment, she simply shrugged and told him to keep it for luck. As if I would willingly keep something so gross! But just in case, he braided it and tucked it under his sleeves.
Ten minutes later, he found himself standing awkwardly in front of the entire gang. As he looked toward more than a hundred pairs of eager eyes, Vince felt compelled to make a speech. So the boy opened his mouth to share words of confidence, but all that came out were stutters and noises.
“Wow, you do look more handsome,” one of the girls finally shouted out, drawing laughter and whistles of agreement.
To Vince's horror, a slow clap began for his newfound “handsomeness.” He felt both cheeks beginning to burn, and his mind began searching the ground for a good spot to dig a hole and die in. Luckily, Lucia's appearance silenced everyone present, granting him some relief. Normally, she would never openly display her affection toward him publicly, or privately, for that matter, but her gentle yet firm embrace wrapped him in a cocoon of warmth, and chased away all of his fear.
“Speech!” someone in the crowd shouted, and it quickly broke into a chant.
Vince was never one for words; his actions always spoke for him. But looking at his gang—no, his family—the boy felt like he owed it to them. Lucia's hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder, and he began. “Good morning, everyone.”
The crowd rewarded him with polite and quiet nods.
“You all know, I'm heading to the Tryout today, and I plan on winning.”
While the younger orphans cheered, those old enough to understand the risk simply smiled encouragingly.
“I want to thank all of you for all that you have done to support me. The enforcers for … kicking my butt. Especially Derek; you got me good that one time.”
The muscular enforcer let out a hearty chuckle and exchanged playful nudges with the others around him, his eyes beaming with pleasure at the shout-out.
Vince took turns thanking each of them individually, and when he got to Isha, the little girl broke into tears. She ran to him and tugged on his shirt, begging to get picked up. He happily obliged, and noted with pleasure that she felt weightless due to his muscle conditioning. With her now leaning against his chest, he continued the speech. “I couldn't have done this without you all. I'm going to make you this promise: I will do everything I can to win, or die trying.”
Silence washed over the orphanage, and for what felt to Vince like hours, the children all simply looked at one another.
“No,” Derek said finally, “we want you to promise to come back alive.” All around, the sentiment echoed.
Family, Vince realized. What was important wasn't the prize, or material goods, but each other. “I will. I will make you all proud.”
With that, Vince waved goodbye to everyone, peeled Isha off of himself gently, and set out for the designated pickup zone.
Chapter 16: Anticipation
The journey to the transport station proved
uneventful for Vince. A few moments after leaving the orphanage, he ran into an Imperial patrol squad. After identifying himself to the heavily armed men, they provided him an escort to ensure no foul play occurred before the big event.
By the time he arrived at the station, there were several other orphans already waiting, Minzy among them.
Vince waved to his friend but received no response. He took no offense to that, as any interaction between them would make what was to come much more difficult. At least since the contestants weren't required to fight to the death, should they face off, neither would end up dead. Hopefully.
Though Vince thought it impossible, the Dragon enforcer looked even more fit than usual, his veins radiating an air of lethality. The other children looked just as deadly, one possibly three years older than Vince—the maximum age allowed in the Tryout.
Their ride was a wagon made of metal and wood, a large box-like device that somehow converted Fye into power, and propelled the whole cart forward through a system of chains. This will be interesting, Vince thought to himself. Though he didn't understand the exact science behind the machine, it still fascinated him greatly.
A man wearing a military uniform stepped up to the cart and slid the door open. The Cogwheel Sigil marked the soldier as a Scholar, and he waved for the children to enter. Without protest, the group of children walked in, to find benches inside made of wood. Before the last of them could sit down, the door slammed shut, and the clicking of a lock echoed inside the chamber.
Without warning, the metal cart lurched forward, and all the passengers settled in for the journey in grim silence. Several times throughout, Vince caught the others observing him and making mental notes. Acknowledging the advantage of sizing up one’s opponents beforehand, Vince followed suit.
After making all the observations he could, Vince allowed himself to think about Lucia. She wanted to come watch him desperately, and spent days trying to steal a ticket. When all her attempts failed, she even contemplated a worse alternative: paying for one.
Of course, the whole spectacle catered to the Elites and Highborn, so there was no way for her to scrounge up enough for a seat, even if she had a lifetime to do it. Though she had complained about not being able to go rather furiously, Vince was secretly glad. Lucia was mentally tough, but if something were to happen to him, Vince wouldn't trust her to not lose her mind.
A surge of anger swelled up inside him as he considered the implications of it all: the Imperials making the orphans’ pain into entertainment.
A sharp pain in his palm snapped him out of his trance. Vince quickly relaxed his grip as he realized his fingernails were digging deep into his palms as his fists clenched. Thankfully, the skin didn't break. After some deliberation, the boy decided the best thing to do was to clear his mind, and rest up as best as he could.
He woke up to the sound of applause and cheers leaking through the tiny window. Several children stirred around him, while others looked completely alert and motionless. They couldn't let their guard down even in such large groups, but deep down, Vince couldn't blame them.
Another clicking noise rang out, and the door rushed open.
“Hurry! We are running late,” a voice urged impatiently.
Immediately, all the contestants moved to exit. Vince was the last one out, taking the extra seconds to mentally prepare himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Nice hair,” a familiar voice whispered.
By the time Vince looked around, the other children had already gone ahead.
Good luck, my friend.
Zed sat awkwardly in the most comfortable section of the coliseum, surrounded by guards and other Academy recruits. His heart raced in panicked anticipation of the barbaric display that would soon unfold in the circular battleground below. When his instructor first explained the Tryout to the boy, he had refused to believe it. How could the Northerners treat their own in such a manner? Especially the children. While the orphans down South weren't always cared for, they at least weren't subjected to this. It was another shock to his system to hear that the contestants joined up willingly.
He had learned a lot since his journey to the Capital. For most of his life, Zed had imagined the North to be a beautiful, flourishing place, with the technological wonders enriching everyone's lives. But what he saw was poverty, suffering, and people barely scraping by as far as his eyes could see. The Lowborn, totaling more than ninety-eight percent of the population, didn't fare any better than the farmers in his home zone. Above them in station were the Highborn, made up of those wealthy enough to own land or who had at least attended the Academy long enough to master one of the three disciplines. They were allowed the use of Technology, and their lives were exponentially better for it.
But what intrigued Zed the most were the Elites. Aside from Neal, and the committee that oversaw Zed's testing, he didn't meet many of them in person. However, there was one the others regarded fearfully: Manus. The strange person had visited upon the boy's arrival, asked various questions about the current state of the South, and then left after leaving some strange yet delicious snack made from corn. Interestingly, during the conversation, after Zed mentioned his birthplace, Zone S1, the man avoided eye contact and shifted uncomfortably. That was a mystery for another day, the boy had decided.
True to his word, Neal had given Zed a chance to live up to his potential. With guidance from the ambassador, the boy put the other academic applicants to shame, scoring higher than all except a select few who had received tutelage since birth.
When Zed tried to show his gratitude, the mentor simply grunted and claimed he only needed the boy as an excuse to take a trip back to the Capital. Soon after, Neal left to resume his duties down south.
Despite his best efforts, Zed found himself missing the pudgy man, if just a little bit. But that feeling paled in comparison to his desire to go home. In truth, despite all the wonderful prospects the Academy offered, he sometimes contemplated escape, just to see his sister again. Though not related to him by blood, she was someone Zed would lay down his life for. The thought of one day returning to her after earning wealth and power kept him going through the toughest of days.
“Say, you are a Lowborn, are you not?” a girl next to him inquired loudly.
Zed turned immediately, as there was no one else she could be referring to among this crowd. Red hair, pretty, and rude, he noted, and if memory served him correctly, she was among the few who outshone him during the examination.
“Katherine,” he greeted coldly.
The girl recoiled as if slapped by his tone, her face doing nothing to hide the outrage. A few smirks crept up in faces all around. She wasn't exactly popular, and Zed knew that. Despite already qualifying on the basis of her alchemical talents, she elected to take the academic exam merely to flaunt her knowledge. Such arrogance didn’t earn her any friends.
I do need to tread carefully, though.
As soon as Zed had crossed the border, the laws of the North were explained to him in torturous detail. By Imperial law, an Elite could kill a Lowborn on a whim and a Highborn with sufficient provocation or reason. To make matters worse, the Southerners were regarded as lesser than any Citizen, which meant the laws offered him no protection whatsoever. Luckily, there was one caveat: while affiliated with the Academy, the rules of the institution superseded the law.
Zed was fairly certain even alchemists couldn't kill with glares, but Katherine sure gave it a hell of a try. After a moment's consideration, he realized it was probably a dumb idea to antagonize the supreme general's daughter. “Yes,” he continued finally, as if extending an olive branch.
After taking a few moments to regain her composure, Katherine pointed down at the contestants now entering the battleground and forming rank. “Well, yes, I don't suppose you have a guess as to who will win? You have a better understanding of people like them, after all.”
She delivered the question is such a matter-of-fact manner that for a
few beats, Zed wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be offended. “Well, I'm from the South, so I wouldn't really know.”
“Surely you have a guess.”
Annoyed, Zed pointed toward the first combatant to catch his eye. “Him.”
“But he's far from the strongest or the oldest.”
She definitely had a point, but Zed was in the mood to argue. “Do you see his uneven, disheveled hair?”
Katherine nodded, and pursed her lips in disgust. “Most distasteful.”
“He clearly doesn't care about anything other than winning,” Zed concluded smugly, leaving a confused Katherine to mull over his logic.
But now that he had a better look at the boy below, Zed realized there was something else that stood out about the one with the messy hair; he had a confident walk, and an aura that hinted at a greater purpose.
“I do hope he wins,” Zed muttered without realizing it.
A grin lit up Katherine's face, and she produced a money pouch from her purse. “Care to bet?”
She’s carrying enough spare coins to feed hundreds of Lowborns.
At this point, Zed decided there was no doubt that he hated her. “I have no money.”
“You can put up your first year's stipend.”
“I'd rather not; it's not proper,” he replied, hoping to excuse himself. Even if he was interested in such a morbid gamble, the money would be better spent buying plenty of luxury for Sawyn.
Katherine simply laughed, and made a sweeping motion with her arms, gesturing to the thousands of privileged in the audience eagerly awaiting the show. “Improper? Why do you think we are all here?”
Zed clenched his teeth and did his best to suppress his fury.
This empire deserves to burn.
Chapter 17: Competition
Vince scanned the arena, intending to evaluate his competition, and his heart broke at the sight. Having never wandered too far from his own zone, he lacked the proper perspective to appreciate the true horror of the empire. Despite being on their own, everyone in the Wolf Gang remained fairly healthy, and decently fed, but most of Vince’s soon-to-be opponents seemed malnourished, some even sickly.