600 years later

  The mines made her strong. Day in day out, standing in the blazing heat, rusty iron pickaxe swinging, Verona continued the same task. Wake up, eat some puny rations such as a loaf of bread and some ham, then continue laboring. The sustenance given to her didn’t last long, as her stomach rumbled with the weight of her hunger. She let go of the tool and clutched her abdomen, biting her lip to suppress the feeling. As she moved, the chains tied tightly around her wrists rattled, the clinking of metal the only thing guaranteed.

  “No slacking!” one of the guardsmen yelled, followed by a whip cracking.

  Verona braced herself for the strike. The sound of ripping flesh rang through the air, then the stinging sensation settled in. The other laborers didn’t turn away from their work and the guards remained unconcerned.

  Her life hadn’t always been like this. Oftentimes, she found herself wondering how she became reduced to nothing more than property. In the past, her father had been a soldier within the inner circle of a minister’s army. Then it was gone with the snap of a finger. Her parents taken from her - her father dead from the war fighting for their freedom, and her mother being forced to labor as well.

  She remembered the day when she lost them. The Battle for Rathalin they called it. She rooted for the imperials to win then. Now she regretted not cheering for the rebel group of Justicar.

  She didn’t know where her mom was sent. Perhaps a farm somewhere to the west. Verona had still never seen her. A pang of guilt and sadness rose when she realized she barely remembered their faces.

  The monotony of her task seeped its way into her mind. These mines weren’t for valuable metals; gems held more importance in the land of Agnius. Rubies, saphires, emeralds and topazes. Mining these four would guarantee her rations for the day, same with all of the other slaves.

  And if she didn’t meet a quota by dusk, she would have to wait until the next day to get some food in her.

  Every single aching day of this, it wore a person down. Verona slipped in and out of consciousness to gather as much as she could, the thought of surviving the only driving force that brought her to give the pickaxe another swing.

  Why had Verona been sent to the mines? She was sent here six years ago at the age of ten. She lost her parents four years prior to that and was moved locations often. Ever since she arrived, she’d lost most of her weight, reduced to a skeletal husk with skin clinging on desperately for dear life.

  It wasn’t always mines. Sometimes she herded cattle, milked cows, harvested crops. But she’d stayed underground the longest. Perhaps it was because she had always been able to locate gems more easily than the other slaves. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it; it was as if these substances had minds of their own and called out to her.

  “Too slow!” someone barked from behind her before another whip came crashing down on her bare skin. She let out a cry and nearly collapsed, shifting all of her body weight on the handle of her pick.

  She breathed in and out in quick pants, recovering from the blow. Best not to pay too much attention. Just shut up and keep working.

  Stupid guards, she thought before shutting up even her mind. Sometimes it felt like even what’s inside her head wasn’t safe.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed some guards standing post, spears in hand, cowered in darkness and away from the heat of the sun.

  Beneath her, scuttlings moved around. Tiny creatures whose body was made of rocks and sometimes pebbles, wandering the deserts of Agnius.

  Verona envied that creature. It lived and moved freely. Here, she was stuck. If only she could reach out and swap places with this tiny creature.

  She pulled her hand back and shook her head. No. She would never want to share this fate with anyone or anything else.

  She swung her tool down and a shiny red reflected from below the dirt. She moved swiftly, uncovering the gemstone and holding it towards the light. A ruby, the most valuable of the ornaments in these mines, at surface level. Compared to the others she found, this one was much larger. She needed to use both of her hands to hold it. With this alone, she would have dinner guaranteed for the next two nights.

  She eagerly dropped the glistening object into her straw basket. As she moved her bounty, she used her body to shield it, covering it from prying eyes.

  How long has it been since she didn’t have to worry where her next meal would come from?

  “Whatcha got there?” a voice said from behind. Verona’s heart sunk as she spun around and met eyes with one of the other laborers standing there, eyes filled with greed and bearing a half-toothed smile. No doubt lost teeth from eating scuttlings.

  “Nothing,” Verona said too quickly, inching her body closer to her treasure. She tried to hurry away, but fell face-first when she tried to take a step. She yelped. The slave had slammed his foot on the chain to trip her. No, this can’t be happening to her! It’s happened once before and she starved the night, but not again.

  “No, I see something there. Something shiny,” he said as he picked up the bucket and inspected the contents.

  “Guards!” Verona shouted, her face growing pale when she realized no one moved to help her. None paid attention to a little girl that couldn’t fight back. The guards were there to collect the spoils from the hard work of the miners, and to give them the “motivation” they needed. Who cares where one got their gems from?

  The man picked up the container and emptied it, letting the large ruby fall to the ground. His eyes lit up and he bent over to pick up the large gemstone, turning it around in his hand.

  Despite being buried in the earth, covered in dirt and rocks, it reflected the sun’s rays brilliantly.

  “You can’t take that!” Verona protested, leaping up to snatch the stone away from the man.

  The other slave overpowered her easily, kicking her stomach and knocking her to the ground. A sharp pain shot through her entire being.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, rat.” The thief left Verona on the ground writhing in pain while he started to walk away.

  No. She wouldn’t take this, not today. It was enough to be looked down by the guards and beaten near the brink of death, but she refused to have her hard work taken away from her.

  It didn’t matter this man stood twice as wide as her not did it matter that he had pounds of muscles on him while she was just a skeleton. She leaped and struck, letting adrenaline and rage fuel her attack.

  Blackness followed.

  Verona’s eyes slowly opened, her head throbbing and her stomach still rumbling.

  She rubbed at her temples to see her wrists free. Finally, some respite.

  An old man sat next to her on a stool, a clipboard in hand. She recognized him as the on-site physician. The odd trinkets and bottles of medicine sprawled on the counter confirmed her suspicions.

  Why did slaves even get doctors assigned to work sites? After all, if one gets too injured to work or continue on, then they would just be executed. It saved resources for the watcher of the sites. They should have just let her die. Maybe that would’ve been too much of a mercy. She could barely lift an arm and she didn’t even want to begin to wonder what she looked like.

  “What happened?” Verona asked with a groan.

  The man sitting there let out a sigh then answered, “You tried to attack someone and got beaten. Badly.” At least the physician didn’t sugarcoat it. He motioned to Verona’s left, urging her for something. That’s when Verona noticed the dresser next to her bed, with a bowl of steaming foul-smelling soup resting on top. She didn’t want to think about when that thing was cooked, but the rumbling of her stomach reminded her to be grateful for anything.

  “Have something to eat,” the doctor said, but she didn’t need an invitation. Her body moved before her mind could react, and she spooned the warm concoction into her mouth ravenously.

  “Thank you,” she said between mouthfuls. The meal didn’t have much to it, but compared to what she had before, it was a full course banquet.

  “They executed the slave you attacked,” the doctor spoke, resting a chin on his hand, deep in thought.

  “I’m flattered,” she said sarcastically, setting down her now empty container. “Thank you for treating me, now I do need to get going to meet quota.” Still she couldn’t fathom that all the guards didn’t just leave her in the sun to dry up and wither away like most of the slaves too weak to work.

  She hopped off the bed and tripped, falling face-flat on the door. The shackles around her wrists were removed, but the ones on her right ankle were still there, attached to the foot of her bed. She frowned.

  “No can do,” the doctor spoke. “I will need to wait for permission before allowing you back.”

  “But the rations,” she protested.

  “Mush will be given daily,” the doctor promised.

  “What’s the catch?”

  The older gentleman shrugged. “I’m just a doctor here,” he said. “I only follow orders, mainly so I don’t end up like one of you guys. If you want some information, you’re going to have to talk to one of the people above me.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Verona replied, scowling.

  “Now it’s best if you just accept it and go lay back in bed,” the doctor instructed.

  “If you’re going to feed me, I’m not going to complain,” she said, returning to the hardness of the tiny cot and feeling the cold iron dig into her skin as she adjusted. She moved even more sluggishly than before, her body screaming in pain with every muscle lifted.

  For the first time since waking up, she noticed the mirror beside her. Just one look at it and she let out an audible gasp.

  She’d known these past ten years had not been kind to her, but she did not expect it to be this bad. All along her face were bruises, memories of painful strikes behind each one. Lash scars adorned her arms. Dirt and soot clung to her face, covering all but her eyes. Her head looked more like a skull with skin than a human being.

  The doctor ignored her gasp and continued with whatever he was working on. A piece of parchment in his hands and an ink and quill, scribbling down furiously.

  Verona reached a hand up to her face and felt along her skin, touching her hollow cheekbones.

  “Judging by how you look,” the doctor began, “I’d say you already have a foot in the grave. If you were to die, I’d be in the same position as you. So just shut up, lay there, and let me do my job.”

  The sound of metallic footsteps cluttered from outside the tent. The doctor and Verona both turned their attention to the person standing on the other side of the flap.

  “Lieutenant Naru,” the doctor said. The old man shot up and gave a curt bow.

  This newcomer, Lieutenant Naru, ignored the doctor and marched to where Verona sat. He casted a distasteful look on her.

  Behind Naru, another important person stood. Someone whom all prisoners in all labor camps knew about, the one who overlooked every single mine, farm, and ranch. The one responsible for creating enough product to sustain all people in Agnius. Lord Demarian, the Minister of Labor, stood with a shadow on his face, his face impassive.

  “Verona,” Lord Demarian said. Lieutenant Naru stood beside as the Minister of Labor approached her.

  The Minister wore a suit of full silver armor, hands clasped behind his back.

  She said nothing back. She’d seen the man behind the Minister many times around. Wandering the camp, making sure the guards were doing their jobs to motivate the workers.

  “Is he the examiner?” Verona asked, eying the man and flicking her gaze to the doctor, who remained in a bowed position.

  “Yes,” Naru spoke. He unsheathed his sword and Verona cringed. A blade wrapped in gleaming silver with a golden hilt, the stuff heroes from the legends carried. “Lord Demarian is the examiner and he will make the call of whether you are healthy to return.”

  So much for promised rations for the next couple of days.

  Lord Demarian leaned in close and eyed Verona. She returned the gaze, standing her ground. She didn’t want to be seen as a weakling beneath a man such as this, but there was something deeper within the gaze. A sympathetic look? A look of understanding? No, she couldn’t see any of that at all. The only thing that stared back were two soulless eyes which lacked an ounce of compassion, staring down one of his subjects. After all, it was this man who took her and placed her in this position. The man who took her mother from her and separated them. The man who probably sent her father to his death in the war.

  Lord Demarian had been her enemy all her life, and he didn’t even know it.

  The Minister of Labor inspected Verona for a moment before turning to Lieutenant Naru and giving a curt nod.

  Naru swung the weapon down and severed the ankle chains, freeing Verona. “You’re free to get back to work,” he said. “It appears that you have a lot of injuries and I can’t really tell which ones that Ishvikk caused.”

  Verona stared.

  “But sire,” the doctor protested. “She’s going to die if she goes back. We need to keep her here and treat her until she’s healthy.”

  Lieutenant Naru shot the doctor a distasteful glare. “Are you questioning Lord Demarian’s judgment?” the man demanded. “If he says she is fit, then she can resume working. I don’t want to hear any backtalk, especially not from someone like you. Understood?”

  The doctor’s face darkened, his eyes darting between the two men in front of him and he gave a bow. “As you wish.”

  Verona could see that he wanted to keep protesting for her. The thought of what would happen if he did was enough to hold his tongue.

  “Why me?” Verona said. “All the others who are too weak to continue on, they just die. The ones who bring nothing for the kingdom, who require more resources to take care of than what they return. You guys just execute them. Why did you choose to spare me?”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Lieutenant Naru placed the steel of his weapon against Verona’s neck. “The same goes for you, girl. Do not question the words of-,”

  Lord Demarian raised a hand, silencing the lieutenant, his eyes not once wavering from her gaze.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glistening gemstone, purple in color. “Before you leave, accept this,” he said, his voice deep and resounding throughout the tent.

  Verona took the gemstone, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to question it, but knew these people didn’t want to answer her inquiries. All she said was “Fine,” before stuffing it into her pocket. She hadn’t seen one of these before, not in these mines at least.

  “Follow me,” Lord Demarian commanded. He spun around and didn’t make sure whether she followed his command or not.

  She did as told and the armored man led her outside the tent, back into the heat of the desert. It wasn’t as hot as before, and the sun seemed to be receding below the horizon. Made her wonder how long she’d been knocked out for.

  “We’re done for today, but tomorrow I expect efforts at uncovering gemstones to be doubled. The one you found earlier? I want two of those. You have free reign of the caverns. That means you won’t be as heavily guarded, but be aware that there will still be soldiers will be posted along the perimeter, so if you try to escape, you’ll be executed on the spot. Do I make myself clear?” Lord Demarian spoke.

  Verona nodded. Finally, a day without those cursed restraints! Internally, she jumped and cheered, but deep down, something didn’t feel right. For the past several years, she’d been a nobody in these mines, working without being noticed, gathering these precious stones little by little and just manging to scrape by.

  How come now, of all times, she was given special treatment?

  Verona and Lord Demarian departed, the man walking with an important gait, shoulders taller than anybody else’s. Verona made a rude gesture as he walked away but quickly lowered it in case anyone would see her.

  Night in the mines was peaceful. Most of the guards had left for home and the ones who were stationed as the night shift slept most of the time. Regardless, none dared to run away.

  There’d been a breakout once, not too long ago. A group of twenty or so prisoners plotted together to attack the soldiers and get the keys to their bindings, and then flee. That called the attention of Lord Demarian.

  Verona had never seen a more terrifying display of power and bloodshed. All twenty prisoners cut down within a matter of seconds. Then ten more gathered and executed to make an example of them. No one dared to revolt ever since.

  Some of the people banded together in separate groups during the night to exchange tales and conversation, anything to keep them sane.

  Verona approached one such group, expecting to be ignored. They sat around a campfire laughing and telling stories to one another.

  When they saw her, however, their expressions dropped, and two of them shied away from her. She’d never seen a reaction to her presence like that before.

  “What’s the matter?” Verona asked innocently. “I can’t join?”

  One of the laborers, an older gentleman with even more scars than her, shook his head. “No can do,” he said. “You can’t come near us. Not after what happened to Ishvik.”

  But it wasn’t even my fault, she wanted to protest but bit her lip. They didn’t exclude her out of pettiness or anger. She could tell from the look in their eyes what they thought of her.

  “Sorry,” was all she could manage.

  Then she went on to the next group. The tale of earlier events had spread throughout the entire camp, however, and no one let her join in on the group. After speaking to another two or three groups, she barely had any more energy or emotional capacity to continue on. Verona would spend another night cold and alone.

  Verona woke up to the sunlight beaming on her face, her whole body shivering despite sweat clinging to her skin.

  She went to wipe her face and found her skin injuries not as prominent as the previous day. The bruises faded and touching them hurt less. The treatment they gave worked wonders on her!

  Wait, when did they give her any medicine?

  “Come along!” one of the guards yelled. “And hurry it up!” Some of them held whips at the ready, brandishing them for “encouragement”.

  Verona rubbed her eyes, chasing away the fatigue. She moved along the camp, picking up a slab of wood and getting mush slopped onto her plate along with a loaf of bread.

  A couple paces away, the men from last night scoffed at her. She ignored them and sat by herself again. The run-down dining tables already had plenty of people, and she didn’t want to try and force herself into a circle again like the previous night.

  Despite being a target for blame, she couldn’t help but overhear other’s conversations. Some talked about their discoveries in the caverns and others talk about how much they wanted to kill Lord Demarian. He’d been spotted here and everyone’s been on edge ever since.

  No guards were present during breakfast time, but they stationed themselves in areas further away. The morning was when the workers truly had more time to themselves. Verona hated spending it alone, but she didn’t have any other choice.

  “Did you hear about Justicar?” someone her right said. Verona’s ears perked up, but she remained focused on her food. She couldn’t let them know she was listening or else they’d stop conversing.

  “Yeah, I heard,” a reply came. “I thought they fell off the face of Agnius a decade ago.”

  “Maybe a different group with the same name?” the first retorted. “But the sightings are unmistakable. The same blue demon mask. It has to be them.”

  Justicar. The name rang through Verona’s ears. The group of rebels responsible for wreaking havoc all throughout Agnius. At least, that was what they were known as in the years of when she was a little girl. Now, that name faded into obscurity.

  It had to be someone mimicking them. All through the years of hardship she’d been through, she clung on to the hope that they still might be out there somewhere, doing good in this god-forsaken nation, but that hope died down with time.

  Hearing the name spoken again sent a surge up her spine that quickly faded. She shook her head slowly. “Justicar is gone,” Verona spoke. “King Rai’Shal’s beat them. They weren’t strong enough to overthrow the king.”

  The two conversers turned and glowered at Verona as she spooned a slop and shoved it into her mouth. She ignored their stares, and instead focused on the “food” she needed to consume, wondering if it had any nutritional value.

  Still, she felt their glower on her, and it sent chills up her back. She picked up her tray and relocated elsewhere, a sigh escaping from her. She desperately wanted to believe in the rumors, but found it difficult to. Years and years spent in confinement, not hearing mention of that ancient name, wishing and hoping every day against all odds they would come to rescue her.

  She didn’t move to get away from the hostility but rather to not have the hope rise up in her again. She remembered being a little girl, working as she was told, and looking up to the stars to hope for a miracle only for reality to prove her wrong. Justicar had been her prayer, her divination, and it failed to deliver.

  The day continued as normal. Only now, instead of working in the open hot air, Verona was transferred deeper into the mines. Of course, she was still bound, but had more freedom deeper in the caves.

  One of the guards shoved her onto the floor. “We were told to handle you with care, but what do they know what happens to you down here?” he spoke with a condescending voice. “You have enough bruises on your arm and face that they won’t be able to tell.” At that, both of the guards laughed.

  Verona just sat there and took it. She couldn’t resist. That would only lead to more problems for her.

  The guard on the left threw a wooden bucket and a rusted pickaxe at her. It clanged on the floor in front of her and she eyed it for a moment. Just the sight of that blasted thing opened the blisters covering her palms and knuckles.

  “Well? What’re you staring at?” the guard on the left sneered. “Get to work, and get it done fast. Fill up your bucket so we all can get out of here.”

  Verona grabbed the pickaxe by the wood and all of her strength returned to her, as if the last six years didn’t happen. With both hands wrapped firmly around the handle, she put all of her weight into a single swing that struck the guard on the left, sinking the weapon into his neck and slicing him down. The guard on the right let out a primal cry before unsheathing his sword.

  Verona stood in a pool of blood and heaved the weapon with all of her might right for the second guard’s head. He ducked.

  Verona took advantage of the momentary distraction and leapt for the sword that’d fallen on the ground, and with a mighty upward swing, utilizing her burst of strength and skill, formed a deep slash right through the man’s armor. A deep enough gash formed that struck his major organs and he fell down over, sprouting blood everywhere.

  At least… that’s what Verona imagined in her head. She snapped back to reality, with the two guards still standing there, looming over her with evil smiles on their faces.

  Too good to be true. She said nothing further and rescinded deeper into the cavern.

  The two guards didn’t follow her. They both knew the only exit to the cave was where they stood, and it would take Verona days, maybe even weeks to dig her own exit. By which the mining trip would have ended and the guards able to find her easily.

  She’d never been down to the caverns before. It was always the surface job that she was tasked with, deepening the crater further and further down.

  Did it have something to do with finding that large ruby the other day? They seemed to think the stroke of pure luck she had meant she would be able to perform consistently.

  She stopped and stared at the dirt wall, fingering it. Might as well start somewhere.

  She raised her pickaxe overhead and slammed the dull tip down, repeating the monotonous task that she’d been doing for years.

  Memories flashed before her. Burning in the distance. Footsteps on cobblestone. Steel clanging on road, shouts of men echoing from all around. The day when the country turned upside down.

  She shut her eyes. She couldn’t help but let these memories play out, and every time, she forced herself to forget. So many times she did, and realized she forgot the faces of those who cared for her. A silhouette in front of her, if only she could just reach out and grab on, she’d be in the safety of their care.

  The caves rumbled. Bits of rocks and pebbles sprinkled from the ceiling, and that snapped Verona back from her thoughts. She peeked around the corner and the guards turned to each other before gazing at the entrance.

  The guard on the right said something that she couldn’t hear then unsheathed a sword, making his way out of the cavern.

  Verona turned around and focused on her work, wiping sweat off her brow. She swung down and struck the rock again. She felt something within the walls of the cavern, a similar feeling to yesterday, but different at the same time.

  It was as if the walls itself hummed out to her. It had a weird heartbeat, one that sounded… angry. She dug and dug, and as she dug, the sensation grew stronger. Eventually, she hit a gemstone. Another ruby stared at her, not quite like the one from yesterday, but nevertheless, it emitted a scarlet radiance.

  She dug the dirt and rock covering it out and pulled the valuable free. A start at least. The sooner she filled her bucket, the sooner she’d be able to get out of that place.

  Then again… it was peaceful down here. So long as she kept working, she was away from other guards that would strike her and free from the scrutinizing gazes of the prisoners who shunned her.

  But what if she finished quicker? Would she go up and rest for the remainder of the day? That’ll never happen. The soldiers here would never let her do such thing. They would just empty the bucket and tell her to go back down into the caverns until nightfall. So she made the decision to slow down and enjoy her time down here, not expending too much energy.

  Frantic footsteps echoed throughout the cavern. “Come, hurry!” a voice shouted.

  Verona dropped everything and peeked around the corner to see a guard limping to where the original guard posted. “We need all hands on deck!”

  And just like that, the other guard was gone, leaving Verona in the cavern all by herself.

  The sound of metal clanging bounced off the cave walls. Something was going on up there. More bits of pebbles sprinkled from the roof, some landing on Verona’s head. She dusted herself off and picked up her tool again. Whatever it was, if she took advantage and tried to escape, she’d be in a world of trouble. So she kept on mining.

  That is, until another pair of footsteps rang out. She stopped what she was doing again and tried to stay hidden while looking onwards.

  Strange people came, but she could tell they weren’t guards by the black cloaks adorning them and the lack of any steel.

  Could the mines be under attack by bandits? She never heard of bandits coming around these parts. Despite the king’s rule being so adamant, bandits were still an occurrence across the country.

  She needed to move deeper down to hide from them. Even if all the guards in the camp died in this attack, they’d be replaced. She had a quota to meet.

  Verona grabbed the ruby and began running away, her feet rattling as she moved. Too much noise! She stopped and reached down, desperately pulling and tugging on her bindings.

  The gemstone Lord Demarian gave her earlier wiggled and fell, landing on the floor. She reached out to pick it up before a hand seized her and pulled her up. She stared into the eyes of whoever picked her up, her body shaking against her will.

  Verona’s eyes widened when she saw the people there. They hadn’t been bandits as she thought. All of them wore a mask that covered half the face with a demon’s mouth open.

  Her hope had been answered. Justicar had returned.