Latke led them to a hotel located two blocks from the flesh market. The owner, a plump, powerful-armed elderly man, gave them a room on the second floor, leading the bandit to her assigned wing of the building. They were not charged for their bravery during the skirmish.
The room turned out to be a dull, gloomy place, illuminated by the depressing light of electric lamps. Brown-stained linoleum covered the floor; after flicking the switch, the occasional finger-sized cockroaches scurried into the cracks. The flimsy chairs in the living room wouldn't have supported the weight of a man in armor, but the sturdy steel beds in the two bedrooms pleasantly surprised Rustam. Thank the gods, he wouldn't have to undress. When he touched the washed bed linen, a tick rolled down.
"Do as you wish; I'm staying in a shell. I've had enough of parasites," Rustam declared, pulling his helmet onto his head.
“The only restroom here is outside.” Ney put his finger to his lips, glancing out the window. “There are the booths, but I think we'd rather be stabbed and robbed there.”
“May I, Boss?” Rustam glanced at the jug on the table.
Yeshua poured some water into his palm, then touched the liquid with a stick that popped out from his armored finger.
“Go ahead. It’s not fatal,” he said, drinking the water.
Opening his visor, Rustam quenched his thirst, tasting sand on his teeth.
“That bitch tried to plant a bug on me,” Ruda complained, reloading her weapon. “I almost missed it…”
“Almost?” the commander chuckled.
Taking her wrist, he pulled a second, smaller bead from the armor’s joint. Ruda stared at the object, putting the pistol aside. Instead of rubbing the listening device between her fingers as before, she pulled something strange from her knee pocket, resembling a pen with an umbrella for a tip.
Placing the bug in the center of the umbrella, Ruda pressed a button, and a piercing, ear-piercing sound echoed through the room, causing the clamped mechanism to shudder and disintegrate. A strong kick from above shook the ceiling, and a half-drunk voice shouted, demanding the ‘whore’ shut up.
"Aye, aye." Ruda smiled predatorily. "Well, the walls here are thin."
"But our hosts trust us for now." Chernogor gave a thumbs-up, finishing his inspection of the room. Servomotors emitted a strained whir as he sat up, stretching out his legs. "What are your thoughts?"
In unison, their speakers turned off, letting the group communicate in hushed tones.
"For bloodthirsty cannibals, this... wolf looked exquisite," Rustam said.
"She even had mascara on her eyelashes," Yeshua agreed.
Really? Rustam hadn't noticed in his excitement. He needed to improve. Ruda didn't panic.
"Why is that important?" he asked.
"Back when we lived together, my little sis had to get up half an hour earlier to curl her hair, check her nails, put on her earrings, powder her face, and admire herself in the mirror," Ruda declared proudly. "Proper makeup application is an art form that can't be mastered in a couple of days."
"Ah, that's why you never show such diligence in this area," Ney smiled.
"Aha!" If Sis enjoys all this fuss, I'm happy for her. She even won a contest. But for me, nothing compares to an extra hour of peaceful sleep.”
"Nothing at all?"
"Well, almost," Ruda conceded, pressing herself against the knight's shoulder. "You were brave, Rustam. Do that again, and I'll break your legs."
"That's highly contradictory information," the boy said, pleased.
"Children shouldn't risk themselves," Ruda declared. "Bones will heal, but life won't."
Ney chuckled, giving her a long look.
Yeshua cleared his throat. "Perhaps Davinia's servants are maintaining her appearance?"
"No, Ruda is right. Take any commoner and dress them in the luxurious robes of nobility, embellishing every inch of their skin. Such a person still won't have the ability to carry themselves with the necessary dignity to create an impressive image. This skill is instilled by training," Ney explained. "And only a few can be dexterous enough to discreetly plant listening devices. I doubt hairy desert savages are trained in these methods. I don't think she's with the Reclaimers, after all."
"You have nothing to say about the city, then?" said Chernogor.
"You mean the standoff?" Yeshua asked. "Latke was clearly pushing us to swear allegiance to Draz and send Latif into retirement." He ran his hand across his throat. "It makes sense; Latif's wagon is a powerful fighting unit. But what's the point of discussing possible betrayal? We're not interested in either option."
"Yes. That Latke's hound shoved the family into danger," Ruda said.
"Paikan is doing nothing to protect his authority," Ney interjected. "Even a blind man can see what's brewing here. After all these impressive rumors, I find Paikan a vastly overrated legend, and his servants incompetent."
"We have no allies among the slavers," stated Ruda.
"Vicious souls will try to seduce you, justifying any crime with the desire for the common good. By their deeds you recognize hypocrites," Yeshua declared solemnly.
For dinner, Ney ordered several roast mice, a bowl full of dried insects and chose lizard shashlik for the main course. Rustam didn't get a single bite of this feast, though the succulent fat, thickly dripping down the sides of the skewered rodents, and the appetizing smell made him salivate. Ruda handed him several tasteless tubes of nutritional paste, slapping his timid attempt to steal even a single piece of meat. The crusaders knelt while Yeshua read a short prayer over them and then began to feast, crunching on shells.
Some time later, Ney tensed, reaching for his weapon. There was a knock on the door, and Chernogor opened it, listening to the whisper.
"Ney, you're on guard first." The commander checked his holster and the blade of his long knife. "Then Ruda, then Yeshua. I'm going to the common room to hear what the other side has to say."
Lying down on his bed, Rustam stared at the ceiling, listening to the drunken singing, shouting, and the sound of breaking dishes coming from the neighboring rooms. Only now, when he could think, did the chilling realization dawn on him of how easily he could have died. One bullet, and Rustam would be gone, or he'd live the rest of his days as a cripple.
Would I have acted differently if I'd had time to think? I hope not. Ruda, sleeping on the floor, growled, and Ney wrapped his arm around her. But I'm going nowhere without a helmet now. To hell with decency.
****
Upon waking, Rustam rushed up to the first floor, bowing respectfully to the bartender and asking for a metal basin full of water for his "masters." He couldn't help but notice Yeshua lounging on the counter, feigning intoxication and listening to the early gossip of the hungover group occupying the hotel. Rushing upstairs, he handed the others some water to wash up and sat down in a corner, disassembling and reassembling the shotgun with slightly trembling hands. To his surprise, Ruda didn't touch the water, forcing him to brush his teeth. Chernogor said nothing about their nighttime conversation, and they all left the hotel together, dragging Yeshua along by the scruff of his neck.
It was time to complete their task.
****
The slavers’ camp was much as Ruda had expected. Situated near the road to Paikan, it was dotted with brightly colored tents where well-fed traders lazily assessed the unfortunates before buying them. A private guard, a sort of third party in the city, recruited from the calmest, loyal, and obedient raiders, patrolled the place. The slavers cared little if their goods were slaughtered right at their doors, but their personal safety and the preservation of the value of their goods were paramount.
Passing past the swaying naked bodies hanging from gallows, their male and female genitals torn out, their blackened faces, and their tattoos and gang rites covering their bodies, Ruda smiled savagely at the silent warning to potential violators. A thirst for slaughter burned within her; the need to plunge her sword into the smiling face of the merchant who had met them, leading them through this labyrinth, began clouding her vision.
She did nothing.
Didn’t even try to save the unfortunate children, separated from their parents and put on display as potential healthy recruits for the gangs. Electric collars kept them from even thinking about escape. At the slightest distance from the designated area, the bodies of the prisoners will be struck by an electric current, insufficient to cause burns but capable of immobilizing the fugitive. Here, now, Ruda had a chance to save those who found themselves in the same situation she had been in, or at least prove to them the presence of a force opposing evil, to plant within them the seed of faith in a better world...
Did she have the right to blame the monsters they would grow into if no one came to their aid? As a police officer, Ruda twice participated in undercover operations investigating human trafficking. It was easier then, knowing her actions contributed to stopping crimes.
Most of the slaves on display were either young Abnormals or Normies. But the imprisoned misery didn’t stop at the surface. Deep underground, in the laboriously dug chambers of tens of thousands of slaves who perished in obscurity, were the cells housing the most valuable prisoners and those possessed of the Blessing. Exotic animals were also kept there. Ruda didn’t need to see these despair-soaked corridors to recall the foul stench of waste, the sobs, cries of denial, and pleas for mercy in a world devoid of natural light. The entire environment was carefully crafted to tame the spirits of the most rebellious and mold them into servants ready to die at the slightest hint from their masters.
Beauty... You will never leave me, my miniature simian. For a second, she returned to the past, feeling the dead man’s warm fingers pressing into her shoulders and the icy cold of splashed water touching her knees.
Not a muscle moved on her face. She had lived through that part of her life. All her debts had been paid. Covering Rustam’s rear, Ruda glared at the six bodyguards, waiting for Chernogor to finish the negotiations in this godless pit.
“No.” The commander didn’t even glance at the pack of slaves dragged in at the merchant’s behest. “You know the conditions at our base. Stop trying to sell me meat that won’t last a week there.” Chernogor leaned closer to the merchant’s face. “Latif will rip my head off if I bring him trash. Turn on the terminal; show everyone. We handed over the Trolls to Latke. The reactor crew turned out to be excellent; burns heal in no time. You hardly need to feed them. And those what’s-their-name... cockroaches, cleared out all the airways in a day. We didn’t even have to threaten their offspring much.” He grinned. “Drive them out. Any discounts for bulk orders?”
“I can’t sell them,” the merchant said, snapping his fingers. Two girls hopped closer, one obligingly dropping to all fours, while the other placed a terminal on her back, turning it on and bowing, looking at the dark-skinned man’s shoes. “I’m not jacking up the price,” he said, stopping Chernogor, who was getting up, helpfully gesturing at the tea. “The governor’s steward scooped up every Exotic.”
“All?” Chernogor sat back down in his chair with a thud. “Why?”
“How should I know? Maybe he’s recruiting an army of freaks?” The man shrugged, turning on the terminal. “The steward is currently at a celebration in the arena; ask him if you want.”
“We’ll have to ask.” Chernogor paled, stroking his sweaty forehead. “The boss gave explicit instructions. Show us the others. Someone will do. Any chance of a discount? We stopped a deadly criminal yesterday.”
“If we agree on the quantity,” the merchant said ingratiatingly, turning on the display.
Ruda almost breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the washed, untouched faces of the twelve missing teenagers kidnapped during the excursion. Only three, whose bodies were found at the site of the raid, had died. Too many. It’s impossible to rescue everyone. The inner voice reminded her, forcing her to refrain from slitting the throat of this grinning creature.
Besides the children, fifteen wanted civilians and a crippled lighthouse keeper were also up for sale. Chernogor haggled desperately over the latter, bargaining for a lower price because of his severed arm. To avoid suspicion, the commander purchased three Blessed Ones, ignoring six of the children. Sweat trickled down Ruda’s neck as she sinned, blaming the leader’s old age for this inattention.
He proved savvier than she. Yeshua entered the deal as if accidentally noticing the need for hands to pump fuel, and, grunting and cursing, Chernogor reluctantly forked over the additional expenses, demanding a free medical examination and a hearty meal for the acquired slaves.
“You’ve sucked every ounce of juice out of me,” Chernogor complained, scowling.
“Come on. Is such behavior befitting a venerable hero who saved our streets from chaos?” the merchant asked contentedly, pouring tea for the elderly crusader.
They had spent more than they should have. Ruda had no doubt about the inflated price the merchant had set for the Normies, seemingly thrown in during an argument about the keeper. Chernogor had likely deliberately allowed himself to be deceived to create goodwill with the slave trader and avoid questions about his preferences.
After sealing the deal with a drink, Chernogor sighed, counted his now-lighter money bags, and leisurely strolled toward the arena, stopping several times. He laughed at the performing monkeys, leered lustfully at the women for sale, and enviously eyed a group of soldiers stomping past, pulling Ney away from his flirtation with a vendor. Ruda couldn’t act as convincingly as her comrades, limiting herself to the role of a ferocious bandit, ready to gut anyone approaching Chernogor.
The role suited her perfectly.
“We’re not actually planning to go to the arena, are we?” Ney asked in a half-whisper.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“It’s our duty,” Yeshua said.
“Our duty is to bring back those we can alive,” Ruda snapped. “Senseless death won’t help.”
“I’d like to save more people,” Rustam admitted.
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Physical demise is nothing compared to total dedication to the gentle souls entrusted to our care.” Yeshua glanced at Ruda. “The Planet has blessed us for this.”
It stung more painfully than steel.
“Uh-huh, and what will our spiritual parent say when you find yourself at the judgment seat, leaving everyone we could have brought back in the clutches of rapists and murderers?” Ney asked. “Self-sacrifice for the sake of satisfying vanity is worse than senseless. It’s sinful. I also can quote Saint Militant Homeopaedist. Try thinking with your pot...”
“Enough witticisms,” Chernogor said. “Our purchase won’t be out of the cells until lunchtime. We can easily stroll to the arena and assess the situation. We’re mere specks, without weight or influence. What risk do we pose? Come on, let’s have some fun, young people.”
“Can I ask a question?” Rustam hushed.
Ruda was about to slap him but decided not to judge the boy harshly.
“Go ahead, just be quiet.”
“We bought out the lighthouse keeper. So Latif’s raids reached the sea itself?”
“As if.” Ruda coughed, hiding a chuckle, and looked at her charge with pity. “You really don’t know anything about the world, do you?”
“No need to tell if you don’t want to,” Rustam snapped quietly.
“Lighthouses aren’t just for illuminating ships’ paths. They also play a role in aviation navigation, warning pilots of storms, hints of volcanic eruptions, and other dangers,” Ruda explained, looking around. “I’ll tell you later. Cheer up; you have a lot of discoveries ahead of you.”
In the morning and afternoon, the streets of Rabor weren’t as crowded as in the evening, and, aside from the occasional bandit, even ordinary merchants took a break. But from the arena, a convex yellow brick building marked with the familiar symbol of a fiery mouth, came a crowd’s roar. Built in the shape of an elongated oval with a purple cloth stretched above the roof, it was the site of duels, hunts, and disputes between individual gang members, relieving their leaders of the need for vengeance.
After inquiring about the steward’s whereabouts, Chernogor led the group to the northern part of the arena, instead of the main hall designated for duels. Here, surrounding a wide sand-covered area and separated from the spectators by a moat filled with sharp stakes, were two ascending tiers for spectators, above which rose balconies for the most influential bandits.
With mild surprise, Ruda spotted Davinia at one of them, sitting in a circle of well-dressed raiders, including Latke. The Wolfkin clapped her paws, joyfully cheering on a fighter in the arena. Then her amber eyes flickered, unmistakably singling Ruda out from among the hundreds of spectators, and she blew a kiss. The crusader raised her middle finger in return.
On the levels below, raiders mingled with townspeople and guards. Young Normie girls desperately tried to attract the bandits’ attention, making no distinction between humanoids and altered Abnormals, hoping for a few sweet hours together. Marriage or love were out of the question; the women were eager to get pregnant. Ruda didn’t condemn such behavior. For many here, a mutant child, or, with incredible luck, a child blessed with a power, was the only way to escape backbreaking labor in the factories.
Sitting at a table near the very edge of the arena, right next to the blazing grill where lizards were being cooked for the spectators, Ruda turned her head towards the arena, hearing a growl.
Red pools and pale ichor stained the golden sand. A seven-meter-tall, bleeding creature advanced on a bare-chested man, girt with a belt adorned with a buckle decorated to resemble a flaming maw.
The creature shook the arena with the tread of its flat paws, moving on two legs, dragging behind it a broken tail tipped with a rounded, spiked orb. Four arms arched above its torso, growing from powerful shoulders, and each of those remaining limbs ended in a sharp, organic saw protruding from the elbow. The last arm lay behind the creature, spasming. A series of smaller, grasping appendages protruded from its chitinous sternum, and nine red clusters of compound eyes watched its intended victim.
The blond, short-haired fighter prepared to meet the monster unarmed, arms spread wide. Standing nearly four meters tall, his broad shoulders were larger than his head, his fingers more like pistons than anything human. Sparse scars, no more than six or seven, were visible on his lightly tanned skin.
The stranger’s stance was pointless, leaving him wide open to a blow to the armpit and slashes from above. Then Ruda sat at attention, exchanging glances with Ney. This man. He was depicted in the statue outside Rabor.
The unknown creature’s mouth opened, releasing an ear-piercing whirlwind focused on its opponent. The force of the sound coursed through the sand, gouging a line through it, and Draz shuddered, closing his eyes. Seizing the opportunity, the saws struck, approaching the victim from three different directions.
Draz counterattacked, slamming his fist into the monster’s barely visible neck. Ruda didn’t hear the crunch of bone, but the blow sank deep, and the creature’s head tilted to the side. Not deep enough. At the last second, the monster leaned back, using its large frame to mitigate the overwhelming pressure.
With the sound of whiplashes, the smaller appendages on its chitinous chest unfurled, attempting to catch the human arm with the sharp hooks on their inner side. Draz jerked his fist back, dodging the grab, and delivered a powerful uppercut with his other hand into the exposed joint on the beast’s torso, burying his hand in flesh up to the wrist.
Accompanied by the sound of tearing tissue ripping through the heavy chitin, the uppercut reached the damaged neck, exiting through it in a fountain of splashing white liquid as the dying beast fell, its limbs thrashing. With a pirouette that looked absurd when executed with a body seemingly formed by hardened chunks of muscle, Draz escaped the torrent of ichor and raised his arms triumphantly, saluting the crowd, his deep, blue eyes wide.
“Aren’t you tired of losing money, Hess?” he asked in a commanding voice filled with genuine joy, mockingly looking at the frustrated raider counting out the coins. “Not a single scar. Untouched!” He slapped his chest, leaving a wet mark. “Invincible! Unrivaled! Tireless!”
“Draz! Draz! Defender of Volnitsa!” The crowd raged. “Eternal! Eternal!”
The creature had made no mistake. Its plan made sense and had surely worked in the past. But there was a style to everything. Draz relied on pure might and speed, appearing from the outside to be nothing more than a muscular oaf. Technically, he was. But the correct application of the combination of quickness and strength betrayed a hint of this cruel ruler’s true skill.
Ruda slammed her elbow back, knocking aside a drunkard who had tried to stand on Rustam’s shoulders. A servant, or rather servants, approached them. Siamese twins, fused together by nature, placed clay cups on the table.
“There are about three minutes left until the competition begins. Gonna bet?” the left head asked matter-of-factly.
“What are you betting on around here? Whether or not our hospitable host survives?” Ney asked.
The Siamese twins burst out laughing, wiping vomit from the table.
“Joker,” said the right head. “On scars, of course! His Highness yesterday...”
“Today...” interrupted the left head.
“At midnight, they received their first scar in thirty years!” the twin conceded, happily sharing the news. “The lucky guy who bet on that got rich. We have bets on how long the fight will last and on the method of killing…”
“Take away that piss,” Ruda demanded, pushing the water away. “Bring me some proper beer.”
“I can pour you actual piss if you’re more used to it.” The left twin bristled. “We have a spring here! My water is clean, safe, and…”
“You heard the lady.” Hearing the calm voice carried through the roar of the crowd, the Siamese twins lowered their gaze and retreated.
Yeshua shifted, making room for the power-armored man who had previously been sitting among the crowd on the balcony of Draz’s supporters. An opaque visor hid his face, a bright emblem glowed fiercely in flames from his blue pauldron, and a triple-barreled weapon crowned his right arm. Ruda didn’t notice any mechanism capable of rotating the barrels or ammunition feed belts, assuming the man was armed with some kind of laser.
“Not a lady,” Ruda said coldly, silently thanking Ney for taking her cup.
“A whore,” the man said. The Siamese twins chuckled.
She bared her teeth, offering the unknown man the desired reaction. Her role was to portray a simple, willful good soldier with a sensitive ego, humiliated by the insult of an outsider. The gray faceplate turned toward her, and the fingers of her free hand clenched with a soft hydraulic whir. Crackling blades erupted from the top of the bracer. In response, she began to rise.
“Easy.” Chernogor punched Ruda in the chest, forcing her to sit up. “Greetings. My name is Brent. I take it you didn’t come down here by chance.”
“Your conversation with Latke was rudely interrupted yesterday.” The visor split into four parts, disappearing into the helmet. The man, recovering from recent weathering, glanced at them, took the bottles of beer the servant had brought, and poured each of them a full glass. “We need to clear up any misunderstandings. I am Feda. Does Latif cast his lot with the resolute Draz, or bet against him?”
From the arena came the grinding sound of chains lowering a heavy bridge, and three unusual creatures burst out onto the sand. One was a brown lizard, as long as a truck and so flat that its muzzle slid across the sand without creating a ripple as it moved. Bulging eyes watched warily as the quadrupedal insects moved on all fours, their sickle-ended arms clutched to their chests.
This is more serious. Ruda focused on the performance. The insectoids had nothing in common with the Insectones. These creatures had not evolved from humans; they had escaped from some laboratory during the Extinction and had been ravaging the lands ever since, hunting any prey. Due to their ingenuity in overcoming settlement defenses and the number of cities destroyed, the Three Nations had deemed them hostis humani generis, a threat subject to either total containment or complete extermination.
Their drones posed no particular threat, but the warriors these centaurs were possessed of the rudiments of intelligence sufficient to form temporary alliances. They assessed the situation and intended to keep their distance from the other predator, aiming to kill Draz first before attempting escape. Not a grain of sand fell from the touch of their thin legs, deceptively slowly carrying the dangerous monsters as they surrounded the man.
Did the raiders understand what they had unleashed into the arena? Ruda hoped for a negative answer.
“I don’t understand how we could interest you,” Yeshua said.
“We? In no way. Even Latif is nothing to our hosts,” Chernogor said. “Feda is worried about our employer’s machine.”
“Girls worry on their first date.” Feda offered Ruda a drink, and she accepted. “I offer you a lucrative partnership. A promotion of sorts, if you choose correctly. Or simply the continuation of your aimless existence in exchange for assurances of neutrality while the wonderful Draz restores order in Volnitsa.”
The lizard stopped, a swelling spread from the base of its neck to its head, and it spat out a lump of pink flesh, flying faster than a bullet. Draz barely managed to raise his left arm when the creature’s tongue opened, wrapping around his limb and attempting to drag him into its jaws filled with sharp fangs. Black drool flowed from the lizard’s chin, pooling at her feet. Most likely, it was some kind of poison that prevented blood from clotting and caused paralysis.
An Insectoid warrior slid toward Draz from the left, intending to sever his ankles. The raider jumped, bringing all his weight onto the organic sword, instantly breaking it. A second warrior leaped from the right, and Draz turned his head. Because the raider’s back was to them, Ruda couldn’t see what happened, but suddenly an orange glow lit the Insectoid, casting its shadow far and wide, and the creature stopped, kicking off the dune crest in a panicked retreat.
Draz grabbed the sticky tongue with both hands, throwing the lizard off balance and yanking it toward him. The vast bulk made a last desperate attempt to survive, opening its mouth wide to bite. But the fangs didn’t close on the defenseless skin. The raider kicked the lizard in the jaw, breaking the bone with a deafening snap, to the wild delight of the crowd. The shouts turned into a roar of jubilation and clapping of hands. Draz swung the unfortunate animal over his head, using it like a whip to knock the unharmed Insectoid Warrior off his feet. Two broken bodies left the arena, impaled on the sharp spikes protecting the spectators.
The last Insectoid rushed into battle, and Draz couldn’t tear the sticky tongue from his hands in time. The sharp blade pierced the air, missing his neck. Draz fell to one knee and turned his head to the side just enough to survive. He clamped the flat part of the blade between his neck and shoulder. The Insectoid’s remaining legs twitched, intending to strike, and went limp. The raider’s index finger thrust through the creature’s head, breaking first the mandibles and then the back of its skull.
“Who were you betting on in this bout, Hess?” Draz asked cheerfully.
“On you, boss!”
“Clever lad! Untouched! Tireless! Beasts bore me!” The bandit roared, spreading his arms as the workers cleared away the corpses. “Release the main course!”
“It sounds like you love him,” Ruda heard Chernogor say.
“Don’t misunderstand; my tastes are directed toward the opposite sex,” Feda said. “In the past, Volnitsa was a force that conquered entire nations. We expanded, absorbing the weak and forcing them to serve us. The League tried to oppose us, and Paikan crushed them, enslaving their scribes. But soon Mad Hatter appeared in the south. Paikan paid tribute to the Khatun, no question, a wise choice. Her kind is born once in a generation. But the conqueror is dead.” His finger left a hole in the table. “Where are the raids? Where are the invasions? We weren’t even allowed to settle in the League capital.”
“I’m uneducated,” Ney said. “Ma carried me off to the north and sold me to Latif. I’ve heard of Governor Draz, Rabor, and Paikan, but never of the League.”
“Unsurprising.” Feda saluted him with his cup. Ruda drank her drink, smacking her lips to the delight of the Siamese twins. The strong aroma of mushrooms filled her head, and she accepted a piece of bread from a servant. Compared to the paltry alcohol sold at the inn, this beer tasted like cognac. “A century and ten years have passed since then. Only the wind blows through their abandoned homes, rolling bones in the corridors. The League was formed by merchants seeking a democratic life.” He chuckled, then winced. “Ugh, I’ve had too much to drink. It’s either good or nothing when talking about the dead. These merchants built a society without slavery and elected their leader by vote. They didn’t even mock mutants. They knew how to fight and invented…” Feda raised the weapon on his hand, demonstrating. “Various things. It was a real war; entire mountains melted in the raging flames. But Volnitsa had an ally. Paikan exterminated the opposition, enslaving the rest, including my ancestors. Since then, we’ve stagnated, without development or war. We exist as vultures. Draz can restore our vitality, directing the peoples of Volnitsa not toward internecine squabbles, but toward conquests that will forge worthy rulers. We will repopulate the burial ground, build a city, and the ghosts of the League will subside, finally retiring.”
“In my tribe, ancestors are honored by honoring what they built and adhering to their principles,” Yeshua said.
“There’s nothing to respect here.” Feda gestured to his armor, rounded and clean, much quieter than the humming masses of steel on Ruda and the others. “That’s the legacy of the League. Everything else, all these cowardly words, promises of equality and mutual aid... none of it saved them. An unviable system gets eaten. Remember that, kid.”
“We’ll take that into account,” Chernogor promised, leaning closer. “But to make a change, we’ll need resources...”
Rustam tugged Ruda’s hand under the table, and she looked up from the men’s conversation, frozen. The bridge leading to the arena had been lowered again, but now armed men were being herded in. She didn’t think about the tattooed, naked bandits, several of whom were missing arms or legs. Let them rot. But people were being driven in alongside them. Pale-skinned northerners, clutching nervous teenagers. Gray-skinned Trolls, who seemed haughty and unperturbed from the outside, if not for their narrowed eyes. Insectones, of whom only the missing farmer confidently held a shotgun. Dozens, almost a hundred kidnapped Oathtakers, over a hundred other slaves, including children, and twenty bandits were sent to slaughter.
The servants threw ammunition into the sand and broke into flight as Draz approached the group.
“Rabor has opened its doors to many guests, demanding a simple thing. Respect our laws!” Draz shouted, gesturing at the naked bandits hastily loading their weapons. “Ingratitude. Insolence. Disrespect. Arrogance. That’s what brought this rabble here. But I am a merciful ruler, inclined to give chances to atone. Listen up, everyone! If even one of them inflicts a wound or a scratch on me, I will show mercy to the criminals and let them go unharmed! They have been gifted weapons and unknown allies from the most exotic lands. An entire army has gathered to face me, for our amusement! But perhaps someone considers this unfair? Don’t be shy, join in! Victory over me will bring glory, gold, resources, fame, and even territory! Here and now, the brave can risk everything and achieve everything!”
No one accepted the invitation. A bandit fell to her knees before Draz, clasping her hands together, holding the pistol with trembling fingers, and begged him for leniency.
“They’re all dead meat,” said Chernogor, warning the group in his own way.
Ney exhaled, downing his drink in one gulp. Yeshua broke off a finger from the table. Rustam was shaking with anxiety, sweating. His eyes flickered, glancing at Ruda and the children as the adults herded them into the center of their line. This wouldn’t help. Not against Draz, who could crush skulls with a light touch.
It is impossible to save everyone. Their mission is over; they must retreat without arousing suspicion, saving those they’ve already ransomed.
Do as Iterna did.
“I already gave you a chance to survive, my dear,” Draz said, placing his hand tragically on his chest. His eyes closed. “We’ll wait for the match to begin and...”
The bandit didn’t miss the moment, instantly bracing herself and firing. The bullet flew through the mirage of Draz’s vanishing face as he rushed forward.
“Cowardice is punished by oblivion!” His roar drowned out the crowd’s cheers, bouncing off the walls. A hand grabbed the woman by the torso, yanking her into the air. Without haste, the fist broke each rib in turn, rupturing lungs, filling her intestines with bone fragments, and forcing bloody vomit from a pain-twisted mouth.
But I can try to rescue them. Ruda stood up, having decided. She pushed through the crowd, planting a hoof on the railing.
“Hey, Draz!” she shouted, leaping into the arena. Flying over a thorn-filled ditch, she turned the dune into a crater with her landing and saw Draz stagger back, looking at her with bewilderment. “Your offer is accepted.” Ruda pulled out Daulet’s severed pincer, ready for battle.
From all sides of the arena, rifles, machine guns, pistols, and laser rifles from Rabor’s guards waiting among the crowd were aimed at her. Feda also took aim at her, while Ney barely restrained himself from joining her. Draz raised his hand, urging his supporters to relax and return to the festivity.
“Splendid.” Draz smiled broadly, tossing the corpse aside. “Miss, you have caught me at a disadvantage. My beautiful cloven foot, I beg you, give me your name, so that your bravery, illuminating this meager day, will be remembered for years to come.”
“Just a reckless bandit,” Ruda replied.
“Ha! Phew, I enjoy myself good mystery! Too bad, we’ll have one less ungulate in the world!” Draz jumped.
I am the vengeance of the weak, the shield of the defenseless, and the scourge of criminals. Crusader of the Onyx Order. This is how I want to live my life. Friends, family, Ney, forgive my selfishness. But I can’t do otherwise.
