The Darkest Dawn

Chapitre 17

Lucien followed Yevor up stairs, shivering and nervous between the two seivohn bodyguards. They reached the Grand Box, a viewing over the entirety of the field below. Yevor made himself comfortable in a seat and Lucien perched in the seat adjacent to him. "So, Mr. Penndrake, congrats on first place. Of course there are other rewards to speak of later but for now, tell me what kind of service would suit you best?"

Lucien paused. "Sir, I was comfortable where I was doing household chores." Lucien replied carefully.

"Truly? Ah, not only lovely but modest." Yevor hummed, leaning back into the chair. "I watched your week of running. You are a very rare specimen." Yevor chuckled. The word "specimen" sent chills down Lucien's spine.

"How so? I'm...." Lucien trailed off. He had been avoiding the word his entire life, focusing on doing his duties rather than fussing over his appearance.

"Hm. Not true." Yevor states, watching the stands filling up with arriving seivohn. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it. You are a rare specimen because not only are you loyal, but you have a natural beauty. Personally, I detest slaves with many layers of makeup. Have you seen them? They look like they have cakes for faces!" Yevor scoffed. Lucien did not reply to Yevor, remaining silent. Beauty was not Lucien's concern any longer, yet he still had the burning in the pit of his stomach when his looks came into question. He suddenly felt very helpless there next to Yevor and without Darius to be strong for him.

Lucien stared at the masses of seivohn being seated in the stands surrounding the field with a dry mouth. He did not feel the buzz of fear, instead the nawing void of hopelessness in his core. He closed his eyes, trying to come to terms that maybe this is the end of the road for him and Darius. After this, it was Reeducation for Lucien. What then for Darius? That is, if he survives this battle royale. Darius would be sent to the Farms, where he'd probably kill himself if not the other slaves there.

A horn sounded throughout the stadium and Yevor stood. He approached the edge of the balcony and raised his hands. The chattering of the audience cut into a wave of hush, all their attention on the Grand box. "Welcome to this year's Pageant! Raise a round of applause for the winner of the runway, Lucien Penndrake!" he turned and gestured for the slave to stand up. Lucien jolted and shakily rose to his feet. There was the deafening clapping of thunderous applause, which was also cut short with the wave of Yevor's hand. Lucien collapsed back into his seat, knees trembling. "Now, for the remaining contenders!" Another horn blared and giant gates at one end of the stadium rose. Men and women decked in armor marched out in a straight line. Lucien could tell by most of their expressions who had no idea of the bloodshed about to happen and who was a soldier ready to kill to survive.

The line halted in the middle of the field and faced the Grand Box. Lucien felt his heart seize when he did not recognize Darius among any of them. Then he calmed slightly, seeing one heavily armored man. The man was clad in silver coloured armor. He wielded a large sword and shield. Upon his right hand on his index finger was the ring Daniel had given Lucien.

Lucian smiled. So that's what the ring was for. He sighed, silently thanking Daniel and glad Darius was allowed to bring the ring into battle. Lucian leaned forward in his seat, eyes affixed on Darius. "Let the Battle Royale begin!" Yevor boomed, settling back into his seat.

An alarm rang throughout the stadium. The second it went silent, Darius and a few other veterans immediately turned and began attacking fellow contenders. Caught unawares and still processing Yevor's declaration of battle, naive slaves were either slain where they stood or roused from their trance and began to run or fight back in blind panic. Lucien felt bile rise in his throat and his stomach begin to twist in horrible knots of nausea, but he could not look away. He couldn't tear his eyes from Darius, worried if he did Darius would be killed. He watched Darius attack distracted veterans and run his sword through many slaves.

Lucien was seven when he first saw blood. His mother had carefully crept into the shed where she hid her child, hand pressing a stained cloth to her cheek. His tall mother was a fair sort, blue eyes like the sky and earthy locks with a few rogue silver hairs. She was pale and was heavily breathing when she struggled to latch the door shut. She removed the cloth to check the gash on her cheek. It was then Lucien had also first seen the cruelty of their overlords. It would be many more times Lucien would see blood after that.

Lucian remembered this as he gasped at the amount of red oozing into the green and brown of grass and dirt. Darius was right. This was an awful red, staining not only into the earth but his mind. Nausea curdled and fought through the knot in his stomach. His mouth was suddenly full of saliva, the precursor of what was to come. So much of it... Lucien imagined the years of blood spilled on that field. Is that why the grass was so... green? So healthy.... The situation with his stomach took a turn for the worse.

"I need... a bucket...." Lucien mumbled, struggling to keep himself from emptying his stomach contents over the balcony or worse, on Yevor. The Organizer noticed Lucien's ailment and quickly ordered a servant to fetch a pail. As soon as it was set on his lap, Lucien retched. There were a couple moments after he spilled his guts into the bucket where he dry heaves, pain wracking his abdomen from trying to expel what wasn't there.

"Don't be embarrassed, my boy." Yevor offered his sympathies. "You are not the first, nor the last to puke in my presence. You humans have such a weak stomach, so unreliable when it comes to gore." Yevor chuckled. "I should really keep another pail up h- Oh look!" He pointed over the balcony at a traumatized slave on her hands and knees, throwing up on the grass after dropping a bloodied knife, puke catching in her hair and dripping from her lips. "See? You're not alone. I remember this one year, this woman just...!" He continued to rant about slaves performing humiliating acts. Lucien stopped listening, staring at the bucket of half digested food sludge. He kept his head bent over the putrid contents until his stomach calmed to a disgruntled rumble, reminding him he needs to eat to survive.

"Can I... have some soup...?" Lucien muttered. Yevor cut off from his most recent detailed venture of a man's vomit landing on a contender below in the stadium.

"Of course! I know how fickle your digestive tracts are after puking." He turned and asked for what Lucien wished. What was brought back appeared to be noodles in a broth, with a couple semi circle slices of some kind of pink meat and seaweed.

"What... is this?" Lucien drooled.

"Udon noodle soup, with two slices of kamaboko, seaweed, and cut green onion in kakejiru broth! It's my favorite human meal." Yevor gushed at the japanese cuisine. For a seivohn, he acted strangely like a human. Lucien sipped at the broth and relaxed when his stomach soothed instead of heave. He bit into Kamaboko, now content. While he was eating, Lucien searched for Darius again, careful to keep his glances at the blood fleeting.

There seemed to only be four contenders left, Darius included. His helmet had been torn off at some point, making it easier to distinguish him from the others. Another had her helmet taken off, the silver haired woman who sat next to Lucien. She had an ugly smile, terrifying in the face of death.