Chương 3: Despair
Atrox thought he knew despair three years ago, but he was wrong. True despair came later. He was chained and thrown into a prison deep in the bowels of the Clan's main castle, left to rot on the cold ground of the prison.
The prison was cold, with low light from the lone torch that burned all the way down the long hallway in which the prison was constructed. The door was rusted, and the beds rotted. The Soryu Clan did not imprison— their judgment usually came with heads rolling.
He was the only prisoner there and was fed once a day, sometimes none at all if the guard forgot. That happened more times than Atrox could count, and he got used to staring at the darkness with a stomach too tired to grumble.
For the first few months, when he was still able to keep track of time, his anger had simmered and built—at Nadia, his father, his stepbrother, the Clan, and the world. The anger had fed him, and he dreamed of training himself and breaking out of the prison to show his father, but hunger and helplessness beat that out of him.
Train himself? That was laughable since he didn't even know anything about Knight training. All his previous training was for manifesting his core and martial arts. His anger was replaced by dread—fear that took root inside him and mixed with his hunger, and he knew not when one began and the other ended.
Reality slowly began to sink in. This would be the place he would rot. He had found some spark, clawed at the door till his hands bled with desperation, and cried out. His bellows echoed down the hallway and bounced off the far door. He cried and shouted until his voice was raw and ragged. No one answered or came, except the guard who delivered food not fit for pigs.
He ate it anyway, and with gratitude.
He had shouted like that for a few days before the guard grew tired of him and beat him until he whimpered and soiled himself. He never cried out after that.
Six months passed like this, and Atrox knew it was six months because Nadia finally visited him. She sat in front of him with the caged door between them and looked at him in silence. Seeing her had been a shock to him because she had changed.
In just six months, he could already feel the power that rolled out of her in steady pulses. Her brown eyes were sharper, with a glint like stars, and she carried herself with the assurance only power gained and earned could give.
Atrox hated her then and refused to say a single word to her. But she spoke, telling him what had happened since he was dropped into the hole.
"Everyone is pretending you don't exist. The Clan has moved on, and your brother has gained a lot of support while your father gained... some dishonor because..."
"Anyway, my mother, Cleir, has been crying herself to sleep every night, and her waking days are spent in front of the Clan building, pleading your case."
That roused Atrox a little, and his green eyes watched her, dull and lifeless. Cleir was Nadia's mother, his mother's maidservant, and the one who raised Atrox since his mother's death in childbirth. She was more of a mother to him than anyone.
Her fighting for him stung more than anything. He felt embarrassment and shame. He didn't deserve it.
Nadia chatted about her training and explained why she hadn't come sooner—Cleir had managed to beg for this much. She didn't stay long, and for that, Atrox was glad.
Time became meaningless, and hunger became his companion. Hunger and cold. The cloak around him grew tattered, his hair thick with dirt and lice, his eyes sunken and lifeless, and his skin pressed tightly against his bones.
After one year and two months, Nadia came again and told him how much time had passed. Atrox saw the shock on her face when she saw him, even though she tried to hide it.
Atrox spoke first, his voice dry, raspy, and choked. "Your oath. Give it to the Clan."
Nadia stilled and pressed her lips together.
Knights could make names and advance through the ranks in various ways. Advancing required resources—massive resources—that Clans and the Knight Assembly could provide. They could also go independent or join Guilds and associations. But most people joined Clans or the Knight Assembly.
Basically, anyone who could sponsor their advancement.
Once they were officially Knights, they were expected to choose. When Atrox declared that he wanted to become Emperor, Nadia promised to swear her Knight Oath to him.
Nadia watched him for a long time before shaking her head. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I will not. At least, not until you die."
Atrox cried again that day, later when she left. Stupid, when he should have been preserving the water in his body. He found a spark again—a drive to train, to grow strong—but it died when he saw how thin his hands had become.
Two years after his imprisonment, he heard that his stepbrother, Thrain, became an official Knight. His Aspect was divine magic.
He knew this because Thrain told him himself.
"You look pathetic," Thrain said, his pale green eyes staring down in disgust at the rag Atrox had become. He wore golden armor with a longsword on his back. He held a mirror to show Atrox how he looked but shattered it. "You were always pathetic, but now you really look it. Strutting around as if you were something—this suits you. I will be Clan leader, and you will rot. Your friend, Nadia—I will get her oath. I can't let her waste away because of you." He left as if he couldn't be bothered anymore.
Atrox felt humiliation, anger, and then... fear. Because he knew Thrain spoke the truth.
In the third year, he was removed from his current despair and thrust into another, better one... maybe. Atrox didn't care much at this point.
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