Carnival of Shadows (Ch 6 – Part 3)

When Orb was taken to the shed, one masked attendant walked across the arena while holding a one-meter-long horn. He then took a deep breath and blew it with force three times to signal the end of the procession.

Thus, the masked boys resumed beating the drums, marched around the arena, slowly climbed up the stairs, and exited in the same manner they got in.

The first to start the game rounds was Lord Barloschios[1], the Imperial Treasurer, nicknamed “The Fanged” because in between his neat teeth dropped two visibly sharp yet charming fangs.

Whatever he did with his mouth, he would always impress, intimidate, or charm others around him. His true age was unknown, and despite his young, charming features and refinement, he was exceedingly cruel and ruthless toward his servants and slaves.

Barloschios was so brutal in his treatment to the extent that all his slaves were constantly injured and permanently scarred. Occasionally, he would not let any of them live long. Sometimes, he would take advantage of the carnival season to kill them all for amusement and change.

When Barloschios left his place among the masters and went down to where his slaves gathered inside the shed, he struck the ground with his black cane three times to summon them.

They came hastily and stood before him with signs of panic visible on their pale faces. Their cracked lips and heaving chests reflected the terrible emotions deep within.

They were eight young men of different ages, but the youngest of them was not more than twelve years old. All of them were bald, bare-chested, and barefoot, and none of them dared to look at their master, whose palms rested quietly on his cane.

Then, everyone heard Barloschios’ raspy voice stating the law of the game in brutal brevity that excited the spectators and made them cheer.

“Whoever rids me of you shall live like a king.”

He meant for the eight to fight among themselves, and if they all perished except for one, he would have a dignified life under the wings of his master.

After that brief statement, Barloschios coldly threw his serrated knife in the middle of the arena.

“Now!”

* * *

A few moments passed, and none of the terrified slaves stirred. They were frightened by the law of the game and the principle of killing their brethren for amusement.

Furthermore, his announcement that day and his intention to kill them was an explicit statement to end the curse of Uthus’s seal that marked their bodies, and therefore, they would inevitably die on that day. So basically, even the one who survives the game will die eventually.

Due to their delay, and after Barloschios sensed their reluctance to participate in the game, he held the silver grip of his antique black cane and swiftly waved it in the air before thrusting the rapier-pointed blade, which was hidden inside, into the chest of the closest slave to him.

Everyone witnessed the cane-sword pierce the boy’s heart and come out the other side, and when the latter fell dead, Barloschios coldly drew his blade and left it hanging in the air, preparing to kill another slave while the crowd cheered with fervor for more death and more blood.

As a result of what had happened, the remaining seven ran to the center of the arena, fighting among themselves to get the knife amid even more cheering from the crowd.

Barloschios, however, showed neither joy nor excitement. He stood frowning, tightening his lips, and examining his treasured weapon stained with blood when he spent his entire morning polishing it.

Alas, his mood turned sour at that moment owing to the reluctance of his slaves before his law.

However, Barloschios could sense black energy oozing out of someone on the other side of the arena. He squinted his ice-cold eyes to look for the one who emitted it audaciously over there.

He shifted his gaze between the arena and the front side of the shed where Orb stood alone.

It is him!

It was not only Orb’s black energy that caught the attention of Barloschios but also his appearance; he was wearing a white shirt and flat leather shoes when he was supposed to wear nothing.

Orb also looked indifferent, unlike the other slaves sitting in the shed behind him, whose faces wore unmistakable expressions of fear and despair.

* * *

It took some time until Barloschios’ slaves killed each other, and only one survived. The winner, panting and believing that his master would carry out his promise, ran to Barloschios and kneeled before him with the bloody knife in his hands.

Barloschios then picked it up with his white handkerchief so as not to stain his glove, then, in a sudden move, stabbed the slave in the neck, bringing him down with blood gushing from his mouth. Then he threw the handkerchief and the knife aside.

“Did you believe that you would live like a king?” His voice rang out for all to hear. “Did you not understand that there can only be one king on the throne?”

The crowd’s cheers for Barloschios’ brutal act were a criterion for their enjoyment of the game and their approval of what he did. They then began to hit the ground with their high-heeled shoes, demanding more brutality and excitement.

Vermon, on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed on Orb, watching his reactions from afar. He was thinking about his strange behavior earlier when he grabbed Vermon’s wrist and stopped him as if he wanted to say something important. 

What was that devil thinking? Why didn’t he talk to me earlier? Why now?

While the attendants were busy removing the corpses from the arena, Barloschios positioned himself at its center, addressing the assembled nobility of Arkosia.

“Distinguished men and women of Arkosia,” he began, his voice commanding attention, “the glorious knight of our empire, Vermon, son of Uthus, has pledged to unveil his newest acquisition—a slave taken from the eastern lands—and to demonstrate the methods by which he shall be disciplined. Shall we permit him to do the show?”

Vermon, taken aback by Barloschios’s declaration and intrusion into his personal affairs, felt a surge of annoyance. He resented Barloschios’s imposition of timing for Orb’s involvement without prior agreement.

He suspected that Barloschios was interested in Orb. Suddenly, it dawned on him that Barloschios might have sensed Orb’s black energy.

Being the excellent treasure hunter he is, I am certain that he identified Orb as a quarry and won’t leave him alone, Vermon thought to himself. He must be planning something.

Given Barloschios’ important position in the empire and the loud cheers of everyone present, Vermon could neither resist the pressure around him nor refuse. Therefore, he left his place among the slave owners, went down the steps, and met Barloschios halfway.

“You have a delicious quarry. I can’t wait to see a good show, Vermon,” Barloschios smirked.

Vermon ignored him and maintained a calm façade; however, he was infuriated. I was right about this blood-sucking old devil.

As soon as Barloschios took his seat among the other lords, he leaned toward another noble sitting in front of him and whispered something in his ear.

Tarsus[1], an acquaintance, turned to him and nodded in silent agreement. Then, the two shifted their gaze toward Orb, who slowly walked out of the shed and was stopped by his master.

* * *

Vermon stood opposite Orb and released from his palm the chain that connected to the metal collar around Orb’s neck from earlier.

Orb felt that he was being treated like an animal or worse. Something inside of him had died, something he could not pinpoint. Faith? Pride? Hope? But it left him feeling a powerful wave of pain, despair, and shame.

He was surrounded by devils at the bottom of hell.

“Are you scared?”

Vermon’s question to Orb was unexpected, but it was spoken in a low tone as if he was sharing pacts and secrets with him.

Orb said nothing.

Vermon’s peculiar aroma, wild whisper, mischievous intentions, and Orb’s sense of defeat before a metal collar were all reasons he could not say anything.

Of course, I am scared, but I would never run away, Orb thought to himself.

Vermon did not wait for him as he turned and marched proudly to the center of the arena while the chain, which extended from his large palm, grew in length. Meanwhile, Orb remained standing and did not follow him.

“My lords and ladies,” Vermon began, “I got a valuable catch from the kingdom of Empamalangon. I rescued him from so many dangers. I gave him the seal of Uthus and the honor of my service; however, I found nothing but disobedience and rebellion in return,” he paused to enjoy the utter silence of the entire amphitheater.

“He attacked my servants, attempted escape, and when he failed, he tried to kill himself, and above all,” Vermon looked at Orb, “he plotted to kill me with sleeping incense sticks.” He shamelessly twisted the truth.

As soon as Vermon finished his speech, shouts of hatred and jeers were directed at Orb. Indeed, Vermon’s simple introduction was enough to inflame the crowd’s feelings, but angry demands were also echoing in the forest from the crowd.

“Discipline him, Vermon!”

“Dismember him!”

“Who does he think he is?”

“He deserves the harshest punishment there is.”

Orb, who expected such an exaggerated narrative, did not flinch. However, he was suddenly pulled toward the center of the arena by the metal chain attached to his collar.

He staggered to the center as a drunken man but did not fall and hated Vermon for not telling him what he was supposed to do.

Orb stood before Vermon’s red silhouette and big build and heard him address the crowd again, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have promised to discipline him today, and I will teach him a lesson he will never forget!”

“Do you really have to — drag me — to this hell?”

The words came out of Orb’s lips at last. They were clear but tense.

“Did you hear? He dares to argue with me!” Vermon exclaimed in excitement.

“I’m not!—I’m telling you that I don’t want to be mistreated,” Orb frowned and shouted at him in sudden anger.

Vermon paid him no attention and instead spoke to the crowd, “Did you hear? This blind slave imposes his terms on me!”

At that moment, Orb realized that every word he uttered was considered a threat and insult according to the customs of the Arkosians present at the carnival.

He also realized that Vermon was taking advantage of this to ignite excitement in the hearts of those present who heard about Orb and came to see him.

Orb realized how strong Vermon’s words were as he ignited hostility and hatred in the crowd’s souls. Feeling overwhelmed, Orb remained silent as the crowd shouted a new wave of demands and other insults.

“Lash him, Vermon!”

“Cut him to pieces!”

“Have no mercy on him!”

“Bastard!”

Orb gazed at Vermon all the while and could not discern his expression. If his tormentor wanted him to be the highlight of today’s event, so be it.

* * *

End of Chapter (6)