Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Villains-09

Samuel had no experience with tragedy.

The woes of the world couldn’t penetrate the walls of the palace. Seated at the table where he took his lessons as a boy, misfortune was an academic thing, a concept that his tutors had picked apart. Samuel would never be king, but he was given a king’s education. A ruler had to stand above it all, to see things from shore to shore rather than just what was in front of him.

Conflict had a viral, creeping nature. Trouble flowed like a river and the more of it there was, the stronger its rapids. A king was above the petty concerns of the masses, but it was still better to actively stamp out problems, before the river flowed to the steps of the throne.

That was how the prince planned to justify his service. And it was something he had to justify. His every action reflected back on his family. If people thought he was doing the work for the money, they would wonder if there was discord in the royal family or, worse, would lose confidence in the royal treasury. Similarly, if he made a point to peacocking his charity and giving spirit, it would boost their reputation.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The constant posturing used to grate on his nerves but after doing it for so long, it was as reflexive as breathing. It also came with significant perks, such as eating a lavish breakfast while the people of Quest went through a small food crisis. All conversation revolved around the city and its future. Its piddling food stores were at the forefront of everyone’s brain. The situation was somewhat stable thanks to the efforts of the Guiness family, who had exerted their power to make sure the price of grain didn’t rise too high but despite the food remaining affordable, there simply wasn’t enough. There were questions if the people would survive till the next harvest, but those couldn’t survive within the opulent halls of the Gold Dorm.

He hoped that he would spend the morning with Cecilia, the two of them taking comfort from each other as they rode through the ruined Quest to the camp, but she refused his invitation. The noblewoman had signed up for the duty as a team, something Samuel wasn’t even aware was possible, and wanted to travel with them on the wagons offered by the Hall. Samuel was desperate enough to offer the strangers ride as well but Ewan “strongly advised against it”. He considered four strangers in small confines with the prince a safety risk and safety was the one thing the royal knight would never compromise on.

It all served to drastically dampen the prince’s enthusiasm for the work. If it wouldn’t have reflected so badly on him, he would have forgotten about it and returned to the Gold Dorm. No one would have blinked if he refused to help from the start but offering his aid and rescinding it before so much as laying an eye on the unfortunates wouldn’t be taken well. As it was, he planned on working for two or three weekends before making up something about the work interfering with his classes, which might be truthful.

After a full week of classes, he was in a foul mood as he rode to the camp. The sight of the ruined city soured further but his first glimpse of the camp ensured it wouldn’t recover.

Samuel didn’t expect a refugee camp to be glamorous by any measure but he did have some expectations. Order, primarily. Cleanliness and security. Given the time constraints and the severity of the crisis, it would be ridiculous to expect perfection but this was an operation ran by the Hall, a place filled with many of the kingdom’s strongest and most knowledgeable minds. They inspired visions of excellence.

Reality defied those expectations. His first sight of it brought to mind the poorest areas of the capital, where those without work, cripples, and criminals gathered, infesting the worn-down buildings like rats. The presence of uniform stone buildings suggested that someone started with good intentions but the mess that radiated outward from the implied order made it hard to spot. Makeshift tents, lean-tos, and simple blankets on the ground with no discernible start or end or even a proper boundary.

Then there was the smell. It started with a faint whiff carried on the breeze but grew progressively worse. By the time they prepared to enter the camp, Samuel was pinching his nose to ward off the offensive odor of thousands of unwashed bodies and their waste.

The path that ran through the middle of the camp without obstruction felt like a miracle. Two acolytes sat on stone seats to either side on the entrance and waved their carriage through without a word. He didn’t know what responsibilities they were given but Samuel was sure they were failing in them.

Being in the heart of the camp, a new layer of its misery was revealed; the people. An unsettling quiet hung over the surroundings. It seemed to have a weight that dragged them down; everywhere the prince looked, he saw long faces and sagging shoulders. Signs of violence were worrying prevalent and there wasn’t a shred of energy to be found in their static bodies. Not even the children played, something that screamed of wrongness. No one laughed. No one smiled. No one seemed to care.

Samuel expected rage and discontent. He expected loud voices demanding action. He prepared himself for turmoil. He had no idea what to make of the Abyss having apparently seeped into the world to rob the people of their spirits.

Thankfully, the further into the camp they rode, the more it improved. Disorder gave way to structure, the tents set down in straight lines, neat row after row forming columns until columns formed blocks separated by fields filled with activity. Even the air was clearer, not so unbearable to breathe.

Wooden signs directed them to a minimalistic stable and field where they parked their carriage, but there was little direction afterwards. Ewan recommended go to where he saw a mess line, as information and food came in pairs.

The service they’d witnessed riding in was still going on. Samuel ignored the glares on his back as he cut to the front of the line. “You!” he shouted at the young man standing on the other side of the table, ladle in hand. “Where do we receive assignments?”

“…whatever you want, get in line with everyone else.” The server tried to motion the next in line to approach but the acolyte remained where he was, hesitance coloring every angle of his body.

Samuel stared down the server as the standstill dragged on. “Are you finished wasting everyone’s time?”

“Fine. Assignments are given out first thing, during shift change. Since your highness slept in, I guess you have to find talk to Watch Commander Filagree. That way, biggest tent around but don’t look for something fancy. Boss didn’t come to work expecting special treatment.”

Samuel ignored the thinly veiled insults and hurried off, eager to get the day over with.