Prodding the both of us with their sharp lances, we’re driven into a new set of portals and away from the comfortable safety of the mound. At least Ha’koff managed to get that piece of meat and is happily chewing away. The distraction will help him get through this ordeal without too much unnecessary trauma. Even precarious times such as these have their precious silver linings.

  The boorish creatures escort us into an enormous, ornate auditorium. Rows and rows of empty seats encircle all of the walls in a slowly sloping curve, rising up all the way to the gargantuan ceiling. It’s shocking trying to imagine the multitudes that may be seated in here when full. However, for now, the chamber is only filled with a simple, lonely caravan trudging towards the distant center. There a few dozen golden thrones form a single ring, all facing inwards towards the others. At the middle of the ring, a giant hole vents a cool breeze into the space in intermittent puffs up from the dark, unfathomable abyss below.

  “Arrange the accused beside the shaft!” the esteemed one garishly commands.

  “Aye!” one of the others acknowledges, a few moments later followed by another extraordinarily out of sync with the first. “Aye!”

  The two poke us with their lances, haphazardly maneuvering us to the very edge of the gaping hole. Wrapping the leash tightly around one arm, I securely grab onto the base of a throne with the other. Just in case, just in case.

  The rest of the boorish creatures perform a crude, unwieldy march over to the opposite side of the ring, each taking a seat on one of the empty thrones.

  “Anomaly! You stand accused!” the eminent one suddenly screams after they all found a seat.

  “Accused! Accused!” the rest follow up with shrill screams of their own.

  “Agobs? Wat dun?” I uncomfortably shout back across the pit, unable to mount a more eloquent defense with my hands otherwise occupied.

  “This is our case to present, anomaly! Cease this thievery of our privileged responsibilities at once!”

  “Cease!”

  “Desist!”

  “Halt!”

  The inharmonious chorus sings back.

  “That will be your only warning! How do you plead?”

  Hands split between leash and anchor, I deeply breath in to loudly declare us blameless of whatever it is they think that we’ve done.

  “...,” only a quiet, rasping hiss escapes my mouth. “...!”

  “Your silence will be registered as an admission of your guilt!” the eminent one foppishly declares.

  “Guilty!”

  “Guilty!”

  “Guilty!”

  This chorus gleefully curses our shameful admission. Of course our kind has no word for innocence. If only I could’ve written my response, but our negligent guards would have easily knocked us into the hole by now if it weren’t for my secure handhold onto this royal lifeline. Assuming that the others can even read my messages all the way over there? Why are they seated so far away?

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “For the crimes of vile sabotage of our important resources, betrayal of a compatriot in service of the Will, general statutory annoyance of your peers, the pioneering of a new will, and the unsanctioned climbing of the ladder without a deal…” he monotonously lists off, looking up and to the right while counting off on far fewer fingers than the enumerated crimes.

  “Such unfairness!”

  “Unfair!”

  “How could you? How?”

  The rabid chants of the chorus overwhelm any chance to respond with a thoughtful defense. Not that my broken spoken word provides any real possibility of saving us. Given that, if fate allows even the slimmest chance, then I’ll throw Ha’koff over my shoulder and run. Hide amongst the audience seats. All we need to do is buy enough time to make a simple travel request. As long as we don’t go back to the mound or pit, then how would they find us? We’d be lost to them within the domains. How would they possibly track us?

  “For the listed crimes! For which you have already confessed your guilt! For the condemned! You are sentenced to one quest at our pleasure!”

  “You must please us!”

  “We deserve at least this!”

  “How did you do it? How?”

  The chorus quickly accelerates into hyperenergetic squeals, demanding more and more and more.

  “Which quest? The worst!”

  “Hunt the feral peacock of the hair’s illustrious domain!”

  “Fetch the orb of obstinance from the toe nail’s canyon!”

  Even our guards excitedly hop up and down along with the bunch, eagerly adding to the growing list of demands. The unbridled release of energy unintentionally jostles us harder and harder with their sharp lances, always knocking us closer to the perilous abyss. Ha’koff has already fallen over the edge a few times due to the careless stabs and only been saved by the thankfully durable leash still keeping us connected.

  “Silence! Our privilege deems us the sole determiner of the quest!”

  The chorus immediately ceases their boorish raving to eagerly hear his authoritative declaration.

  “The nose declares! To properly administer the quest, the blood has gifted my honor with a workaround for the anomaly.”

  The eminent one pulls out a little ball of blue, glowing light that calmly floats atop its palm.

  “Bring the condemned to me!”

  The chorus uproariously cheers, including our two guards. That is, until they realize that they’re the ones responsible for implementing the order. At first they appear unsure which one’s in charge. However, after they both stand up straight and roughly measure each other’s relative height with their hands, the very slightly shorter one moves to take control of us. His one free hand grabs me around the waist. After a short thought and an indifferent shrug, he skewers Ha’koff through the chest with the lance in his otherwise occupied opposite hand.

  “Non!” I scream at the image of Ha’koff’s wide eyes and open, silent mouth, as he’s raised high on the lance shaft like a flag and carelessly balanced on the guard’s shoulder. “Non non! Non! Don!”

  However, none of them cares. They didn’t care when they thoughtlessly stole away the mud of a few goblins squabbling over their insufficient food supply. Why would they care now? Sure, those poor fools simply returned to the pits, but that’s not the point! Every cycle of mud grips at them tighter and tighter. Drives them further and further towards the madness. Don’t they see? Don’t they care?

  “Present his eyes to me!”

  The escort guard briefly drops me to the ground, before immediately grabbing my head in his hand and raising me up towards the esteemed one and the light. In terror, I can’t find the will to keep my eyes closed in defense of the obviously approaching invader. A deep part of me still believes there must be a way out, and that I have to find it. I can’t give up!

  A moment later, the eminent one’s hand slaps me hard in the face, and I’m blinded by the light. The pain is excruciating. Far worse than that first status stolen from the young one. That one was somehow cleaner. Closer to pure? Untainted. However, this light is incredibly messy. Dirty. Heavy. It hurts so much to bear this awful, unwanted burden.