Rhys eyes opened. A border of black surrounded the small hole of vision that remained from the last hit. He blinked the last bit of pain away as he stumbled back toward the crowd of people chanting with fists raised in the air. The black border of his vision slowly faded. He threw his first at whoever he was fighting. He didn't know who, he didn't know why, but he knew he was losing. The man grabbed his first twisting it out of place with a soothing crackling sound. Another punch in the eye would finish the fight. The man swung his fist around for one last punch when Rhys pulled his head the other way for a moment dodging the attack. The man kicked the back of Rhys' ankle, tossing him to the ground. He landed on his spine. The impact blew the wind out of his lungs-a good opening for his body to stop.
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Rhys opened his eyes. The room was dark. His thigh was bare, and rubbed against a cold stiff wood plank. He took his hand over his body and down to his heart. His covers, nothing but a white robe that stretches to about mid thigh. That was all. Only the front side no back cover. Rhys blinked rapidly then shut his eyes to rest.
He woke to the cold touch of a hand sent to peel his lids apart. He blinked even more separating the hand and his eye. Still no light in the room. Rhys could tell it was a woman from the soft fingers, longer than men's nails, and hair that fell to his knees. She turned to her left, opening another sleeping person's eye, and so on. Rhys looked around to try to see where he was. His legs dangled over the plank edge of the plank. More and more men were scattered across the room.
As soon as the woman was finished, and every man was awake, she came toward Rhys. A rope dropped beside him that she pulled, bending down as if it was difficult. Her hair jumped into Rhys' mouth. As she stood, he wiped his tongue with his teeth.
The light immediately shot into his eyes. Everybody look toward the ceiling. Cids scattered into the room. Rhys looked over toward the front of the room. A door sprung open revealing a man in a tall hat, hair like hay, dark eyes, and a nasty beard. His pants were wrinkled, and stiff. He took off his hat, and bowed before the men. "Good morning gentlemen," the man started, "welcome to the next fifty years of your life."
Rhys' thoughts dashed through his mind. What is going on? Where am I? What happened last night? Nothing came to him.
"Rise!" the man said with lots of enthusiasm. Some men stood completely off of the plank revealing their behind. Others curled their spines up. Rhys rose up, and stood on cold wet cobbles. The floor was damp and covered in overgrown lichen and knipweed. The knipweed scratched in between his toes. The man in the hat laughed. "YOU!" The man demanded, pointing at Rhys. Rhys flinched taking his first finger to point at his chest, poking it. "Behind you fool." Rhys let out a great sigh of relief. "Walk here now peasant." the scrawny tan skinned man fell to the ground-he had curled himself up rather than jumping to the floor. "Make haste Dakrum." The man up in the hat had light skin and dark yellow eyes. He had made a racial slur to the tan man. He must have be been a Navanial. The word Dakrum insulted the way their people talked. Their T was replaced with D. Rhys was a light skinned Parmunk like the hat man. The Navanial spat to his left foot and stood stiff.
Hat man got angry. He rushed over to the Navanial passing twenty-three rows of men. Hat man got there quick. He whipped out a small dagger, and held it to the man's forearm. The tan skinned man cursed in his native tongue. "You disrespect me Dakrum." He cut deep into the mans arm. His claim was irrelevant considering hat man was disrespecting the Navanial. He cursed again in his own tongue. Another cut hat man drove into his arm. Slower and deeper. "Kill me." The tan man said. "I'm not stupid. I will not kill my men. All of you are my men. I'm not going to 'dang your lime.' No... I'm not like that." He copied how Navanial speak Parmunk. Another slice to the arm. Rhys was wide eyed at the sight. "That's enough!" Rhys shouted. "Loud! Okay that was loud. Don't shout in here." Hat man dropped the bloodied dagger to the floor.
"You don't scare me," Rhys lied. Hat man sighed. "Maybe you'll be more cooperative.... What's your name lad?" Rhys stared around the man ignoring his question. Hat man scratched his beard, and walked over to Rhys. Hat man hesitated then reached for Rhys' ear. Rhys slapped his hand away. "Do you know not why you are here peasant?" Rhys froze. "War. I dragged you all here because you will be serving in the war." Rhys looked down at his feet, and sighed. The man itched his beard. "I am not your lord. I am the... Well let's not get into detail of what I am." Rhys gulped. "My apologizes sir." Rhys replied.
The Navanial cursed again. "No need. I am a very difficult man you see. And... your name is?" Rhys froze. "Rhys." He admitted. "Was that so hard? You see gentlemen," He started, "all you have to do is obey me. And you will be- " He trailed off. The Another man entered out of the door.
"Good morning gentlemen!" The man yelled. "Settle Down You Animals!" The man yelled. "This is your Lord gentlemen." The room became silent. The Lord walked over to the Hat man slowly-in silence-hands behind his back, and perfect posture. His uniform was clean. A loose blue shirt sleeves down to mid forearm. The end of the sleeve was tied with a blue string. A brown vest covering his shoulders, draping down to his hips. He had a stiff, trimmed beard and large eyebrows tucked on his eyes.
As he arrived where hat man and Rhys were standing, he took note of the Navanial's arm. The Lord whispered something into the hat mans ear. "You," the Lord started, "follow me to the front of the room." He pointed at Rhys. The Lord turned and walked. Rhys hesitated, but followed as asked.
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A few hours after going over procedures, rules and expectations the Lord used Rhys as an example for how you will be treated if you break any of the rules. The Lord led all of the men outside to a stage. A single guillotine stood on the cobbles. There was a field outside of the room the Lord entered. The field was square and surrounded by a wooded structure too tall to see over for an average man. The Lord led Rhys to the stage. "This is what happens if you disrespect the rules and law of war." The Lord looked toward Rhys with a grin. Rhys was shaking. Would the Lord kill me? Rhys' thoughts dwindled in his mind. The lord dismissed Rhys. "Leave Peasant. I've no need for you." Rhys stood frozen and stiff. "Be gone... Off and into the crowd lad." Rhys stepped down the steps. "Disrespect the laws of the war and this is what happens to you." The Lord said pointing to the guillotine.
Each man was assigned a squad leader. Rhys was assigned to squad leader Abarath, as well as twenty to thirty other men.
