Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Sun Jun 09, 2024 11:29 pm**

Troublemaker

56th of Ash, Year 123 of the Age of Steel (x)

The scalding water stung her skin, but Veriel welcomed the pain. After a month in the suffocating darkness of solitary confinement, even the scratchy bar soap felt luxurious against her skin. The chemical scent of the shampoo was overwhelming, yet she breathed it in deeply, savoring the first shower she had been allowed in weeks. It had been the longest stretch she had ever spent in solitary. Some days had been maddening, and she had spent half the time meditating to keep herself sane. The one good thing that came out of it was the time it gave her to work on her afflictions.

As Veriel dried her hair with the stiff towel, she noticed Alada sneaking glances at her. Alada, in her thirties, was pretty and built like a warrior. Her parents had been survivors of Ailos, and Alada had decided to honor their legacy by joining the dawnmartyrs. Veriel pretended not to notice. She suspected the dawnmartyrs had been wondering where she was.

The siltori finally acknowledged her as Alada approached hurriedly while they exited the changing room. “Are you alright?” she asked in hushed whispers as soon as she caught up to Veriel in the hallway leading from the showers to the mess hall. “It’s inhumane they kept you there for so long. They’ve been beating you, haven’t they? Those bruises on your body are fresh.”

“Since when do we expect humanity from the Imperials?” Veriel said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m fine. Aspirant training was worse than this.” Her fellow dawnmartyr didn’t look convinced, but it was the truth. Besides, Veriel had gotten herself into trouble and had been prepared to deal with the consequences.

Ever since Veriel had attacked that guard last season, the siltori had been thrown into solitary for the slightest mistake—sometimes without any mistake at all. She had become painfully familiar with the dark, cramped room in the deepest parts of the prison. There was never any bedding, and she slept on the cold, hard floor. Food and drink were often withheld, but she didn’t bother protesting. She would rather suffer through the hunger than beg them for anything.

Another way they tormented her was by throwing her into cage fights every single night. They refused to let her see the healers afterward, so her skin was mostly just bruises at that point. It didn’t work out as they hoped; Veriel remained undefeated, even when squared up against the men. If anything, each victory only seemed to grow the respect in other prisoners’ eyes. Soon, the cage fights stopped entirely.

After that, the guards decided to drop any pretense. Every once in a while, Veriel would be dragged out and tossed into a room where they had space to beat her. They always came in groups, usually at least three. Honestly, it was just another kind of cage fight—one she couldn’t win. All Veriel could do was ensure they didn’t leave unscathed.

Still, it seemed like not everyone had learned their lesson. A few weeks ago, a lone guard had entered her cell in solitary. Veriel recognized the human man. His gaze had always lingered too long on her body, so it wasn’t entirely a surprise when he proceeded to unzip his pants and tried threatening her with a knife. The siltori almost laughed out loud. When the other guards finally came in, they found him writhing and screaming in a pool of his own blood, a knife sticking out of his right shoulder. It wasn’t fatal, but if she was lucky, the blade might injure some nerves nearby.

That was how she ended up with more than an entire month in solitary.

It was worth it.