“Raze the world and bring it upside down,” Hessian repeated those words like a mantra as he was being dragged away by the soldiers. 

How he would accomplish his goal, he didn’t know; yet. It was a stupid goal and very much impossible, that much he was aware of, but it drove him. Making the world suffer like he and everyone else did.

After the raid on Nippur, Hessian felt empty inside. 

Hungry for both food and something to make his blood boil. When the smell of food hit his nose, Hessian looked up at his owner, the Third Elite Macnaught. 

He was less than pleased to see Hessian—in fact, he rarely was. 

“Youuuuu,” Macnaught foamed from the mere presence of Hessian. “Kneel, thrall.” 

Hessian was already kneeling but didn’t correct him. 

Folding his arms behind his back and placing his forehead on the ground, Hessian straightened his back, exposing his back and neck. 

“I can’t believe we’ve lost 1/4 of our soldiers during the raid to capture some stragglers and your group of slaves came out unscathed.” 

“What can I say? We are better than you think.” Hessian bit his lip bloody, smiling as he tried to hold back from saying things that would end badly if anyone heard them. 

“No matter, a few casualties won’t hinder my ascension to become a Second Elite.” 

Macnaught grabbed a bag packed with dwarven-made Idarien gold coins and threw it at Hessian’s face. 

Each gold coin on the ground reflected and formed a dotted carpentry of light, highlighting Hessian’s harsh expression he wore. 

Macnaught sneered. “You are lucky I am letting this slight. Get out of my sight and return to the rest of your rabble of blighter, you hear me?” 

“Oh, I hear you.” Hessian held his jaw, stopping his urge to grind with his teeth and control his thoughts. He concentrated on his aching bones, his grumbling stomach, or the pain in his leg. 

He had barely suffered any injuries from the raid—mostly he got them from the abuse at camp. Though one pain still stung him. That was when he had fought a coward of a man. 

“Ki–ur, that was his name, no?”

Strutting with his limp through the camps, he received irritated glares from every soldier he passed. Hessian didn’t care for any of these soldiers but only for his group, who received him wholeheartedly upon his return.

“Hessian!” Their malnourished faces lit up at ‌the one person who led their group.

Hessian was a nobody, like the rest of them. He had formed a group of trusted slave warriors loyal to him. To the dismay and fortune of Macnaught, who owned them and controlled Hessian.

Hessian could get away with a lot but had to listen to Macnaught’s commands and make the group listen.

A delicate balance. 

“You all have seen better days,” commented Hessian with the bare minimum of a grin. He limped past his comrades to the small bonfire where another Reiszer was situated. 

His name was Bjorn. 

Tall and quite robust despite how thin he looked like the rest. “Hessian.” Bjorn stood up before Hessian, towering over him by more than a head. He was as imposing as a bear, but much more approachable. “Have a bite with us.” 

Not too long ago, the two couldn’t stand each other. 

Bjorn was the leader of a slave faction. Hessian was an outsider who wasn’t just ambitious but dangerous at the same time. 

He was uninvited trouble and trouble needed to be put in line or down, like a dog—although Hessian was more like a wolf.

“How’s the food?” 

“Bad as ever.” After taking a bite, Hessian passed on the undercooked bovine leg to another hungry Reiszer—at least there was some meat. “After the raid, I would have imagined our food situation to improve, but I guess not.” 

“That was to expect,” commented Bjorn, holding his stomach. It was not enough to satiate the tall Reiszer. “I hope Nertha and Lovis had more luck.” 

Nertha and Lovis; two more former faction leaders.

Hessian’s arrival transformed the power dynamic among them.

Before that, each faction leader would quarrel with each other just to survive. 

The strongest among them would lead their own groups, and they all had to listen to Macnaught to earn better favours and conditions.

It was an awful structure. 

Between the infighting, abuse and unreasonable orders with little to no food or hope to go by, Hessian somehow relayed them behind him.

Despite his lack of charisma and his anti-social attitude.

“Speaking of those two, where are the two?” 

Bjorn and the other former faction leaders expected to be underneath Hessian, not become his equal allies. He didn’t care about a power dynamic. His ambitions were still an enigma, but he was better than the system they lived under.

Much better.

“Securing provisions. Do you suspect trouble?” 

Hessian inspected his new sword, concluding he could use another from the slight chip. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Let’s make sure we get what we deserve.”

—☀—

“Do as we said.” 

“Who cares how you feel?” 

“Thralls don’t need to eat well. Obey and work till death.” 

As slaves, Hessian and the rest learned to disregard expectations and embraced the cold and harsh reality. It was harder to get by when you knew nothing would improve.

“If you listen to us, you will get twice- no, thrice the number of provisions. We can guarantee you that.” 

Hearing that, Hessian and Bjorn quickened their gait to find Nertha and the other female slaves getting pressed by the soldiers. Standing still, they endured as the soldiers’ slimy hands went over their girls’ messy hair and exposed skin. 

Some even dared to go as close as the collarbone or the thighs, contemplating doing more. 

Pulling on the auburn hair of the former slave leader, Nertha tried hard to appear unfaced and not have the crate of food she was carrying getting taken away. 

She was the only one composed enough not to show emotions—although her twitching lips proved otherwise. 

Nertha knew better than to lose the food and held back as the soldiers harassed her than her girls—getting a reaction out of her was more entertaining.

“This girl has spunk. Someone take her arms, I’ll take the legs-” 

“Hey, chums!” Bjorn called up to the soldiers buoyantly with open arms, feigning an amused grin. “Thank you for looking out for our girls. We’ll take it from here. Thanks for the effort, friends.” 

Hessian’s and Bjorn’s entrance confused the soldiers while the girls sighed collectively in relief. “We were worried they were running late, so thank you very much for-” 

Bjorn’s talk cut short when a soldier slugged him across the chin, unable to reach his face. “Shut it, thrall. Who do you think you are?” 

“Ha ha, that hurt,” Bjorn grinned, wiping away the blood dripping from his lips with his dirty hand. 

“Is this how we’ll do it?” Hessian approached the soldiers now, coming so close to one of them that their noses were almost touching. “Hit me too, if you dare. It will help settle your tedium, no?” 

“Hit us as much as you want.” Bjorn spread his arms invitingly for the other soldiers, startling them with his friendly approach and height. “But don’t forget to pay us for our performance. Some proper compensation for it would be nice.” 

Provocatively, their presence almost overwhelmed the soldiers. Glancing at the weapons the two carried, the soldiers thought it was a trap. No way their slaves were asking for a beating.

They reluctantly stepped back until one soldier threw the first punch at Hessian. 

Seeing as Hessian didn’t react, she punched him again. Then a different one hit Bjorn before it turned into a free for all against the two slaves.

“Is that all?” asked Hessian, deadpan, standing unwavering with a bloody face. 

“Are they already done?” Bjorn pouted disappointingly, putting his fists on his hips. “I was about to feel something despite an annoying sting.” 

“More like an itch,” Hessian chuckled derisively. Bjorn cracked a blood-smeared smile at that.

“What’s wrong with those two?” 

“Are they mad?”

“They are. Just like we are.”

 Too late did the soldiers notice the flock of slave warriors assembling behind Bjorn and Hessian. Held back by none other than Nertha as the slaves’ hands were shaking to grip their weapons. 

Ready to escalate the situation if needed. Just another Tuesday.

“L-let’s go. I-I don’t feel like it anymore.” 

“I-I agree, nothing but madmen.” The soldiers hurried away, getting as far away from them as possible. 

Seconds after the soldiers were out of sight, Hessian and Bjorn collapsed to their knees. They were utterly exhausted, beaten and swarmed with their worried comrades with admiration thrown at them. 

“You should have killed them,” commented Nertha, wiping away the blood on Hessian’s face with her remaining sleeve. 

“And get us into more trouble? No, thank you,” Hessian looked past the other slaves, taking care of Bjorn, spotting a little blond figure behind him. “Did you catch their faces, Lovis?” 

Smaller than the rest of the slaves, with the smallest stature, was Lovis.

Their hair was so long and filthy that the wild strands covered their face entirely. Underneath it, Hessian could see them smile wickedly with a finger on their lips. 

Their gender and race were unknown. They could only communicate in grunts and gestures and barely hear, but none of the slaves dared to stay near them except Bjorn.

It was the last leader Hessian had brought underneath his command, and the most unhinged one. 

After all, Hessian would never allow someone to trample on him or anyone in his group and let them get away with no consequences.