The Son of Light

Chapter 2: The Selection

As the Company passed through the wicket gate of the Fifth Iron Veil, A grand gate in a series of gates that separated Mariah-Mara and her network of tributing Sub-streets, also called her "Tentacles" by some, the boys found themselves greeted by several men in hats and long coats standing by a convoy of black automobiles. Without a word, everyone piled into an automobile and away they whisked, heading in the direction of Oldborough, nearest to Überhagen and Goberhaven. These two districts were sister boroughs where the heads of the Military, and party Ministers resided

Matthias pressed his cheek into his hand, and stared out the window of the vehicle as the motorcade drove through the various streets to their destination.

His thoughts drifted, and his mind became troubled with the mission at hand. Tonight, someone would have to kill Sabastian Wexely personally. And that someone could very easily be himself. What if it was him? What if it was he who was given the sword tonight? Could he, a slender, 13 year old boy kill a man three times older than himself? Matthias felt his pulse quicken, and his nerves began to feel like that of an ensnared animal. He had only ever killed other human beings twice before, and both had been in a fit of passion and hatred that had quickly been converted to horror, and fear after the acts had been committed. Matthias still felt the guilt, and the pain for what he had done. Even though it had been enemies whom he had killed.

The first time had happened three years prior to current events. Matthias, like other young boys his age, worked in Trükrainja, shoveling primus crystals into the furnaces that in turn distilled the liquid primus into different layers in accordance to their usage. The refined Primus was then shipped to other parts of the country via rail and barges. Matthias had worked as a laborer and maintenance boy. If something were to befall the great machinery in the workhouse it was his and other boys his age to squeeze through the cramped spaces between the pipes, and boiler vats to fix and correct the issues when they arose. It was dangerous work, not at all the type to be given to young, malnourished boys. But nobody cared. After all they were all simply Ghüddsche scum. If one was injured or killed another would simply take his place. Any boy who complained would be whipped by the Taskmasters or guards.

Matthias and his compatriots struggled to keep pace in the sweltering heat of the infernal place. Now and then a boy carrying a pail of water would come to refresh, and reinvigorate the boys. But the prescribed water ration of 30 fl ounces per diem was not at all sufficient for boys who sweated profusely in a 103 degree temperature furnace room. Poor Matthias and his small compatriots struggled with acute dehydration and fatigue that many slumped unconscious or died due to exhaustion. Finally, after a grueling 13 hour shift, the Workhouse whistle was blown thrice signaling the end of their shift. Eagerly the boys had thrown down their shovels and tools and ran out into the outdoor cloister where they were serving food.

There was a pump nearby and all the boys were hurriedly cleaning themselves and gulping the cool water, Matthias among them. Afterward they got in line and were served into battered metal bowls, two laddels each of a thin soup that contained potatoes, carrots, cabbage and bits of canned meat which gave the soup a fatty taste. They were also given a small roll of bread the size of an orange, and a small cup of milk. "Have your ration books ready! No food until your book is stamped!" Roared the guard who had traded his rifle for an apron. "There you go, brats!" he snarled. "Eat up, and get back to your lodgings. You're all expected here tomorrow at 5:00 am! And don't forget to turn in your bowls!" The boys had then gathered around an old primus drum that was being used to burn combustibles for it was a stormy night. Thunder roared above and lightning flashed. The rain pelted down like pebbles so the boys were obliged to stay under the cloister. As they had eaten they had spoken about the day's events.

"Jonas was killed today, he stepped on a soldier's foot and he shot him" said a small boy by the name of Boris. "And Moses was given a beating for not working fast enough"