Shattered Sanity

”You will pay me twenty silver coinsh for thish uselessh boy?” Hagrid asked, as his good eye shifted toward Riven with the same dismissive indifference a merchant might show toward cracked pottery resting forgotten in some dark corner of a market stall.

”He ish no fighter... the mosht I’ve seen him do ish carry two bucketsh of water at once without dropping them...” Hagrid continued, his swollen tongue dragging against his broken teeth while saliva gathered along the edge of his mouth. ”He cannot become an Ashendant... the boy ish damaged goodsh...”

Torak chuckled quietly after hearing that, while rubbing the thick beard along his jaw.

”Well, whether the recruiter manages to shape him into an Ascendant or not hardly matters to me,” Torak replied calmly. ”The moment I deliver the children into his custody, my responsibility ends there.

The arrangement we have is to pay by number, not by quality.”

A faint grin spread across his face afterward.

”So yes, the twenty silver coins are guaranteed.”

Riven listened to the entire exchange quietly from near the wall, his lowered eyes hiding the violent beating of his heart while his fingers slowly curled against his palms beneath the sleeves of his worn clothing.

Because for the first time in his life, he could finally see a path leading somewhere beyond this suffocating brothel, and while Torak and Hagrid viewed the Valdrak Empire as a machine that consumed children for profit and survival, all Riven could think about was the possibility of finally seeing the outside world with his own eyes after spending nearly his entire life trapped within these walls.

And perhaps even more importantly than that, he felt his blood pump just at the thought of getting to learn how to fight.

As if there was one thing he wanted more desperately than anything else in his life, it was power.....

Power that could help him exact his revenge on all those who had wronged him.

”Fine then...” Hagrid muttered eventually, as he shifted awkwardly in his wheelchair while the wooden frame creaked beneath him. ”I’ll give him to you... though I only have two caretakersh left now... thish boy and Tashaaa... so I still expect him to work around the household while training to become an Ashendant...”

Hagrid demanded, as Torak nodded immediately.

”Well, that changes nothing,” he said. ”The boy still belongs to you until we officially cross into Valdrak territory. After that, his ownership transfers to the Empire.”

Hagrid wheezed out another laugh after hearing those words, as though the thought of receiving twenty silver coins for a slave who would become useless to him the moment they reached the Empire amused him greatly.

”Then we have an agreement...”

He muttered, as Torak slowly rose from his chair, his large frame seeming to dominate the room once again as the wooden floor groaned beneath his weight.

”Well then, thank you for the cooperation, old friend,” Torak said calmly, before briefly turning his eyes toward Riven near the wall.

The glance lasted barely a second, however Riven still felt cold afterward, as though just making eye contact with the chief had drained him of a lot of energy.

Then finally, without another word, the village chief stepped toward the exit and disappeared through the doorway.

*Creaaakkk*

The old wooden door slowly shut behind him.

And the moment it did, Hagrid began laughing.

”Hah... hahahaha...”

The cripple’s body shook violently in his wheelchair as his half-dead face twisted into a greedy grin while strands of saliva dripped down his chin.

”Hope... at lashht...” he whispered excitedly. ”Maybe there really ish a healer in the Valdrak Empire capable of fixing thish broken body of mine...”

His breathing grew heavier as his eyes wandered toward his useless legs.

”Maybe I’ll walk again...”

For one brief moment, Riven almost saw something painfully human within the cripple, as beneath all the cruelty and filth, there still existed a desperate old man clinging to the faint possibility that his ruined body could someday be restored.

Then Hagrid slowly turned his head toward him.

And whatever sympathy Riven almost felt vanished instantly.

”Hah...” the cripple wheezed. ”It looks like the future holds hope for me... and despair for you, boy.”

His crooked grin widened further afterward.

”Even if you become a sholdier... all you’re really doing ish marching toward your own death...” Hagrid continued, as his words dragged together in an ugly slur while his good eye stared directly into Riven’s soul.

”How doesh it feel knowing that? Knowing that no matter what you do... no matter where life takesh you... you’ll never become anything important...”

Riven lowered his head obediently after hearing those words, exactly the way he always did whenever Hagrid spoke to him, as he maintained the appearance of a broken and submissive servant despite the hatred quietly festering beneath the surface of his calm expression.

Because while Hagrid laughed inside that wheelchair believing himself victorious, Riven silently swore that when the time came, he would return every insult this cripple had sent his way tenfold.

—------------

That night, just as Torak had told Hagrid, the village council gathered near the central fire pit resting at the heart of Ashfang Village, where thick logs crackled beneath the freezing northern winds while dozens of tribe members slowly assembled beneath the dark sky with uneasy expressions spread across their faces.

Large animal hides had been stretched around the meeting grounds to block the harshest gusts coming down from Frost Valley, however the cold still lingered heavily in the air while smoke drifted upward toward the stars in twisting gray streams.

Torak stood near the flames with both hands resting behind his back, his broad frame illuminated by the orange glow while beside him stood a tall unfamiliar man wearing layered leather armor reinforced with steel plating unlike anything most villagers had ever seen before.

Even the sword hanging at the stranger’s waist looked foreign.

Its sheath carried silver engravings running along the surface while the man himself stood with the posture of someone trained for war from a very young age.

Whispers spread quietly through the gathered crowd as villagers exchanged uncertain glances while trying to study the outsider.

”The man standing beside me is Recruiter Garron Vale of the Valdrak Empire,” Torak announced eventually, his deep voice silencing much of the crowd almost immediately. ”He arrived several days ago carrying an offer that may very well determine whether this tribe survives the next decade.”

Murmurs spread afterward.

Garron stepped forward calmly after hearing his introduction, as the man swept his gaze across the villagers before speaking in a composed and practiced tone.

”The Valdrak Empire has expanded rapidly throughout the northern territories during recent years,” Garron explained. ”New roads are being built. New settlements are rising. Trade routes are opening across lands that were once considered uninhabitable.”

His voice remained steady and confident.

”However, expansion creates opportunities for those willing to seize them.”

Several villagers leaned forward slightly while listening.

”The Empire is prepared to offer your tribe fertile land near the northern settlements alongside proper housing, livestock assistance, trade protection, and access to Imperial markets,” Garron continued. ”Your children will grow up with access to medicine, blacksmiths, education, military protection, and cultivation techniques far beyond anything currently available inside Frost Valley.”

An older villager frowned afterward.

”And what exactly does the Empire gain from this arrangement?” the elder asked cautiously.

Garron smiled faintly.

”Loyal citizens.”

The answer caused several people nearby to laugh quietly while others remained visibly skeptical.

Another elder spoke afterward.

”You expect us to abandon the lands our ancestors lived upon for generations simply because outsiders promise us warmer homes?”

He asked, as Torak finally stepped forward after hearing that.

”Our ancestors also froze to death here generation after generation,” he replied bluntly. ”They starved here. They buried children here. They survived because they had no better options.”

His eyes swept across the crowd slowly.

”We do.”

Silence followed those words briefly.

Then Garron continued speaking once more.

”The Empire does not expect blind trust,” he said calmly. ”Which is precisely why I proposed something beneficial for both sides before relocation begins.”

Several villagers exchanged curious looks afterward.

Torak nodded slowly before raising his voice again.

”To demonstrate good faith, Recruiter Garron Vale has agreed that starting tomorrow, he will personally train every child below the age of fourteen within Ashfang Village.”

That announcement immediately caused the crowd to erupt into shocked murmurs, as Torak raised one hand to silence the crowd before continuing.

”Within one year, he claims he can turn those children into true Ascendants capable of surpassing the primitive hunting techniques our tribe has relied upon for generations.”

A younger hunter near the fire scoffed loudly afterward.

”And we’re simply supposed to believe some outsider can transform children into warriors within a single year?”

Garron calmly met the man’s gaze.

”If the Empire’s methods were weak, our banners would not fly across half the northern territories...”

He replied evenly, as that confident response caused several nearby villagers to nod unconsciously.

The Empire did have a pretty strong reputation in these parts, and hence, seizing the momentum, Torak stepped forward once again.

”I will send my own two sons to train under him,” he declared firmly. ”And if you trust my judgment after all these years leading this tribe, then you should send your children as well.”

Uneasy whispers spread once more.

However, Torak was not finished.

”In fact,” he continued while his expression hardened slightly, ”I have already made my decision regarding who will participate.”

The crowd slowly quieted again.

”Not only the sons and daughters of Ashfang...” Torak said, while his voice carried across the firelit gathering. ”But also the bastards, the slaves, and every child within the proper age range will undergo this training.”

That statement stunned the gathering into complete silence.

Several elders immediately frowned while others looked visibly alarmed.

As one older woman rose to her feet almost instantly.

”You intend to waste Imperial resources training slaves?”

She demanded sharply, as Torak snorted after hearing that.

”I would rather possess strong Ascendants serving this tribe than weak mortals capable of achieving nothing meaningful,” he replied coldly. ”Strength benefits Ashfang regardless of where it comes from.”

Another elder slammed his staff against the frozen ground afterward.

”And what happens if these slaves gain too much strength?” the old man demanded angrily. ”What happens when they stop obeying?”

Torak’s eyes narrowed slightly.

”Then perhaps the problem lies with masters too weak to control them.”

That answer immediately split the council.

Several younger hunters burst into rough laughter while many older elders looked deeply disturbed by the idea.

Arguments quickly erupted throughout the gathering afterward as voices rose louder around the fire pit while villagers began debating among themselves fiercely.

Some supported the proposal enthusiastically after hearing promises about fertile land and Imperial opportunities.

Others feared abandoning Frost Valley entirely.

While several seemed horrified by the thought of slaves receiving warrior training alongside their own children.

Yet despite the resistance coming from certain elders, the direction of the gathering slowly became increasingly clear as greed began spreading through Ashfang Village far faster than fear ever could.

As in the end, Torak had deliberately not informed the clan members about the recruiter’s true plans for these children.

As for now, he had decided that the best approach was to keep everyone except his most trusted men in the dark, until the opportune moment came to reveal the truth.