For Lack of Empathy

[Rayse Valentino]

Closed to Lord Anglekos.

8 years ago...

The first time you come to Ettermire, you keep your eyes to yourself. Your fear makes you watch your feet, your back, anything that makes you think they're not looking at you. But they are. They're burning holes into the back of your head. You stay close to the people you came with, you don't wander off the path you're given. Your concern over your own safety trumps that of your curiosity for these strange black structures all over the city. The steam that rises out of them, making you think that the whole place is just one huge set of armor that's on fire. Even the streets are straight, makes you feel like you're walking on glass.

The second time, you notice them. You catch a glimpse of one of the drow. They're still staring at you, but now you stare back for an equal display of foreign hatred. It gives you power. You remember why you're here, what you're supposed to do. No longer is your only impulse to just leave as fast as you can.

After the fourth time, you realize that you're not the one scared of them. They're scared of you.

It was Rayse's third year in the academy. Of course, his name wasn't actually Rayse. It was Trent Loryn Junior. But, between him and his best friend Vincent, it was Rayse. There were two types of kids in the academy: The ones who cared about their career and the ones that didn't. Vincent was the former, while Rayse the latter. Although only one type of kid got into the damn thing in the first place: The rich. All the poor kids of Salvar go to boot camp a little later in their teenage years, but the rich kids go to the academy where they start as officers. It's not unusual in the Salvar military to be outranked by someone half your age.

Since the Ettermire-Knife's Edge train was established a year ago, somebody in charge decided it was a good idea to get rich academy kids experience with drow. Up until the train was built, the average Salvaran's perception of drow was based on stories by traders coming from the Kachuckian border. Now, they were damn near everywhere. Since they only dealt with the higher-ups anytime one was seen in Knife's Edge, they gained a sort of illusive status among the populace. But to the military people coming to perform government duties in Ettermire, they knew the truth. They knew what it was like to become pariahs everywhere they go in the city. They knew that it was likely the same feeling that drow felt in Knife's Edge.

This trip, Rayse was accompanied by at least a dozen officers from a real military base and a few students like himself, including Vincent, who was coming here for his third time. The two were thick as thieves, often playing pranks on their underclassmen. Vincent was a strange kid, because while he teased and bullied the same as everyone, he refused to participate in the little academy smuggling ring that Rayse conducted with another friend, Robert.

The contingent was on a fairly important assignment this trip. Some sort of rare magical tribal kid was caught and the maniacs back in Knife's Edge decided that they wanted him. Alerar was quick to offer gifts to foster their relationship, so they arranged a secure transfer of the prisoner. All of the men from Salvar wore red grenadier jackets with black sashes across them, some more decorated than others. The academy kids also wore them, although they were not officially graduated into the army yet.

Right now, Rayse was marching in formation down one of the streets of Ettermire. The pure flat ground allowed them to march in unison, and at their sides were the tall square buildings of Ettermire. They were black structures, built several stories tall although only the first couple floors were in use. The drow say that they made the foundation from steel, but it was a hard pill for a Salvaran to swallow. Nonetheless, the streets were surrounded by these tall structures, with alleys between them so thin that from the center of the street it looked like you were surrounded by two black walls. Even the ground was dark, the flat stone mixed with bits of metal. It was sunset already, giving the buildings a strange glow like they were reflecting a huge fire somewhere far away. To first-timers in Ettermire, they were terrifying. The streets were cleared out for this contingent, with drow standing at the sides and glaring.

Rayse and Vincent were in the back of the group, walking in lockstep with wandering eyes. In front of them were a few more soldiers that surrounded the prisoner, and then a couple more at the front leading the way. The whole formation looked like a snake that just swallowed a rabbit whole. They could see the barefoot prisoner in front of them, and it was a young child.

The kid wore what looked like rags; probably his old clothes before they were torn up getting captured. He had chains around his arms and legs, but the kicker was he looked no older than 8 years of age. He had long black hair that went down everywhere, reaching down to the small of his back. His long bangs covered his azure eyes, and on his bruised and dirty face was an expressionless look. The kid looked like he shut himself off from the world.

"The hell is up with this, man?" Rayse whispered to Vincent. "Why are we escorting some little kid?"

Vincent replied in whisper, "I heard some of the higher-ups talking about. Apparently his tribe is like, pure magi or something. Like he was just born being able to do all kinds of crazy shit."

"That's fucked up." Salvarans had a bit of prejudice against magi. They stopped talking when an officer in front of them looked back for a moment, and then continued his march.

[Lord Anglekos]

He promised. He'll be here. I know it.

Those were the thoughts that had kept him standing, kept him walking, even when those strange men with the darkened skin and pointy ears had him under their hands and under their chains, like he was now. Richard had lost track of just how long it had been since he'd been kidnapped; even though he was only eight years old, he'd at the very least been trying to. He'd been forced to stop after two months, though, when hunger had gotten the best of him and drifting off into ignorant sleep seemed far more appealing than staying awake. And that, he figured glumly, had been at least three weeks ago.

They fed him little; just enough to keep his body running and active. He'd tried to fight them of course, with every bit of tooth, nail, and flame he had at his disposal, but he found quickly that fighting only wasted his stamina; a far more precious commodity these days than defiance. Soon, he was walking to-and-from what he began to call the "white room" without offering as much as a single finger of resistance; no longer did he have to feel those dynamic punches to his gut, at the very least. He did what they told him to do; emitted flame only when necessary, and watched with apprehension as his captors grinned with frightening clarity at the results. And when they brought him back to his cell (of course being made of heat-proof metal, it seemed), he cried himself to sleep at his foolishness.

Why didn't I just do as dad told me to? He would scream at himself within the confines of his mind; his only companion, it seemed, nowadays. When he was taken out of his cell, he thought he could see other beings in other cells as well; but his captors didn't care for socialization between their prisoners, and he got little more than a glimpse before he was whisked away to the white room once again. After a while of listening to his own mind, he wasn't really surprised when his mind began to talk back to him.

Because you be a Thayne-cursed fool. A seemingly older voice snarled irritably back at him one day, and it was so clear in his young mind that Richard thought there was someone else there with him. Glancing around, however, he found that he was still as alone as always.

Be I going crazy? He thought tentatively into the darkness of his mind that day, hunching over slightly as he wrapped his aching arms around his knees, drawn upon defensively into his chest.

If you be not, then I surely be. That voice responded back almost instantaneously, still filled with a sort of dark cynicism that only years later would Richard begin to understand. Having to listen to you whine at yourself every night would surely drive anyone such.

...but...you be me. Another tentative question from the lonely Richard; despite the fact that it was (to his point of view) only himself talking back to him, he was enjoying the company of this strange voice. After days of being alone, he would have been grateful if even his captors chose to talk to him.

A chuckle emitted from those dark depths, cutting and knowing all at the same time. In a sense, yes, I be. But now not be the time for pleasantries. You wish to escape, yes?

Richard blinked physically at that. He'd contemplated it, but he saw no way out of his metal cage, and fighting his captors was simply not an option; he'd already tried that. Yes, but...

Then sleep. Tomorrow you will be needing it; tomorrow, you will be going outside.

Another physical blink from Richard as he felt surprise run through his veins. The way the voice had said it communed to him as fact, rather than hope. H-how do you...

Nevermind that. What be important is that you will, and you will be needing every bit of strength to make your escape. Now, sleep.

And so he did.


~+~


Now, bound in chains and walking relatively quickly to try and keep up with his sentries about him, Richard could only wonder at the voice's words. He'd tried contacting that dark voice when he'd awoken, but had found to his dismay that no matter what he said or did, the only voice echoing in his head was his own. Silently contemplating his situation, his thoughts kept him distracted from outside matters; even the rough feel of the cobblestones beneath his bare feet did little to dissuade his inner musings. Breathing out petulantly, his breath pushed a bit of hair out of his eyes; hair that had grown long in the time period he'd been separated from his father.

His father...

He promised. He'll be here. I know it.

It be a nice thought, but it be best if you take an individualistic view for now.

The voice cut into his mind suddenly in response, and for the third time in two days Richard blinked in surprise. Pleasant surprise, at that, and he noticed that some of the sentries had glanced over at him when he'd jumped a little at the intrusion. Making sure he appeared as weak and innocuous as possible, the boy clasped his fingers together; a feat that was barely manageable through the chains that bound his hands behind his back. There you be. He replied with that same petulance he'd felt just a little earlier. Where were you?

Off. That was the only explanation the dark voice seemed to be willing to give, and Richard was honestly disappointed with his inner voice's lack of willingness to share its mysterious ways. Now, look sharp. There be trouble ahead. Trouble, and your chance.

The boy's azure, glacial eyes rose, and widened slightly at the sight before him, even as the procession around him halted to a stop. Trouble indeed.

[Rayse Valentino]

Vincent was, well, Vincent. About the same size as me, but with brown hair and brown eyes. We clicked immediately when we first met in our first year of academy. He lost his mom at an early age as well, but he had about six years to my two, so he actually remembers her. We always talked about the absurdity of nobility, how being born into this life somehow made us better than other people. We both wanted to grow up into our own men, free from the expectations of others. He was like me in that we tried to skirt the nonsensical orders we were given, but I was doing it out of spite; him out of some notion of true justice or whatever.

If there was ever a person I would trust to watch my back in my weakest moments, it would be him.

The red-clothed human procession stopped in the middle of the street. In front of them were several overturned wagons, all leaking hot refuse from some construction work. The waste was being transported across town to a dump site, but the hot metal burned through the frames of their transports, spilling out into the street. It gave off a noxious odor, and the only drow near it were in masks. The man with the most decorations on his uniform walked up to one of the drow and told him their situation, but the masked drow simply shook his head and pointed at one of the alleys.

Rayse and Vincent questioned this whole spectacle in whispers. Why not just stick the prisoner onto something with wheels and covertly take him to the train station? Vincent heard that the prisoner would just slowly burn through whatever they put him in somehow, so by keeping him on the move he remains too tired to resist, but the logic of such a claim was questionable. Couldn't they just cover him with something fire-retardant first? Rayse's theory was different: It was a show. Having a Salvaran military presence prance through the streets of Ettermire conveyed a message to the lower class drow- that this was normal. Humans in this city showed a future to everyone that they must accept, and any action against them could be considered an action against the Queen of Drow herself. Ironically, it was safer to do it this way than trying to keep it a secret.

Still, this situation was odd. Rayse expected them to turn around and take the long way, but the leader of the contingent wanted to maintain his schedule. Vincent agreed with Rayse, but being mere academy students they didn't dare to speak up. So that was how a bunch of uniformed humans with a prisoner entered the back alleys of Ettermire.

You never appreciate the sky until it disappears. Looking up from the alley you could only see smoke. The walls were close, each one part of a long windowless building that the drow love constructing. There were some windows on the floors above the ground floor, but it was impossible for any thieves to enter without a long ladder. It was from these windows that smoke seeped out, creating a ceiling of fog that settled not far from the heads of the contingent walking through. There were some doors along the way, but they were made of steel with intricate locks on them. Some of the soldiers were starting to feel short of breath, which was reasonable given that they only had about three meters of walking space between the menacing walls. Rayse looked back, and noticed a couple of masked drow standing at the entrance to the alley. They were pretty far away now, but still there, staring at him. A few rats skittered around, which kept everyone looking down. One of the soldiers lit a torch, since the light from the sunset did not reach into this cramped area.

Halfway through the long alley, a few pebbles fell on Vincent's shoulder. He looked up, but nothing could be seen through the smoke. Were they in-between two factories or something? Rayse saw that Vincent was distracted and looked up as well, and both of them stopped. There was a shadow. It was just barely visible, but it was there. Long strips of shadows between the buildings... were they planks of wood? Beams of metal? Then, they noticed it: The shadows were moving. Someone was on top of the beams. They both stopped, but it was too late.

In front of them, drow wearing chain mail, armed with maces and axes, leapt from the shadows and onto the soldiers. Both of the teenagers felt that dreaded feeling in their hearts, like a sharp knife being plunged into their chests. The soldiers, completely unprepared for the ambush, fell quickly despite outnumbering the drow nearly four to one. The torch fell to the ground, its flickering light giving the gruesome details of the battle in bursts. One of the drow noticed the two teenagers, who were frozen with fear, and was about to charge them when there was a great flash of light. They all shielded their eyes.

"We have to go now!" Rayse said with urgency.

It was then that the little tribal kid fell in front of them. He was the only one to move during the flash of light; a mad dash back to the entrance of the alley. He didn't make it far before tripping on the chains. The drow who was going to charge them finally recovered from the light, and decided to pull out a flintlock pistol to dispatch the teenagers. What they saw next amazed them.

While lying on his side, the kid conjured a spark. It looked like it appeared from nothing, but small trails could be seen coming from the torch. He flung the spark into the pistol's barrel, which caused it to burst in the drow's hands. The drow dropped the burnt weapon, screaming out in pain from the burns on his hands and the shrapnel that lodged into his dark skin.

"Give me a pick!" Vincent demanded. He knew that Rayse always carried a few lock picks on him.

"Screw that, man, let's go!"

"I'm not going until you give it to me!"

Rayse begrudgingly produced the pick, fumbling it in his nervous hands and giving it to Vincent, who then applied it to the kid's chains.

"What are you doing?!"

Vincent didn't answer, instead maneuvering the pick with precision to relieve the child from the chains on his hands. He then helped the kid up and grasped him by the shoulder.

"Whatever you did, do it again to that lock," said Vincent, pointing to the intricate lock on the metal door next to him.

"What?! You lost your mind, Vin-"

"Shut it, Rayse! You think we can just go back the way we came? They're waiting for us!"

Rayse looked back at the entrance to the alley, and there were indeed several drow now running at them. He fell to his knees, almost giving up until he looked at the tribal kid and saw him holding the lock to the door, watching the lock start to change from its blueish-black color to a bright yellow, then orange, then red. The next thing he knew, the whole damn thing fell to the ground. Nobody needed to order them to do what they did next. Leaving the carnage of the soldiers being slaughtered, the three of them pushed the door open and ran into the building on one side of the alley.