Few people of the kingdom got to see the Trovian district up close. For an empire of conquerors, they turned out to be a rather standoffish group. It wasn’t just that they were secretive, either. No one had ever spotted a Trovian in the kingdom in an unofficial capacity. None were seen at a bar, nor a brothel. What little trade the Trovians conducted with the kingdom was never even done in person. They used native runners and traders with restrictive temporary passes. Most got the impression that they simply did not want to be near non-Trovians. Others had theorized that they had strict orders not to socialize, but the idea seemed too far-fetched. They couldn’t all be in the military.

Though Eleazar was still out of sorts from Dowde’s fist, he did his best to take in the novel surroundings. The first thing he noted, walking along a smooth stone road with the procession of children and adults was just how clean the Trovians lived. The houses were colorful uniform squares decorated in muted green and gold colors. Intricate works of line and leafy patterns adorned the dwellings. Similar decorations could be found on the wide streets, perfectly spaced streetlights, and intimidatingly high walls. There was no waste in the alleys to be seen or smelled, and all the inhabitants wore unstained clothing. He didn’t understand it at the time, but what he realized in those first few steps into the Trovian district was just how primitive the people in the kingdom were by comparison.

The next wonder Eleazar noticed about the Trovians astonished him because it should have been the first. It was no secret that many of the Trovian guards didn’t look like normal men. Some had strange hair or skin color, or even strange colored eyes. Even so, they always seemed human. Not that there hadn’t been rumors indicating otherwise. He’d heard many of what he thought of as tall tales about orange Trovians and such. The rumors turned out to be true!

In front of a strange gadget shop, a five-foot muscle-bound grey man spoke to two orange skinned humans that had black spiky hair. Two seven-foot-tall white skinned women in flowy togas made a joke at his expense in a language he couldn’t understand as they passed down the boulevard. Eleazar gave them a shit eating grin in response.

What really made him question his sanity though, was watching a small boy tell a cat to play dead. How in the hell could you train a cat to do anything? A closer look showed that the disciplined cat had a racoon tail and hard rock-like shelling like an armadillo. Eleazar really wanted to ask the boy where he’d found the creature.

After a moment of consideration, Eleazar shook his head thinking he might be hallucinating all these amazing sights courtesy of the concussion. That turned out to be a horrible idea. A wave of vertigo and nausea hit him with a two-pincer attack, causing him to collapse onto the cool stone of the street. He wanted so badly to just close his eyes and sleep right there on the spot. After he started to do just that, a voice broke him out of his comfort

“Hey boy, you okay?” asked a man, sounding distant to his buzzing ears.

“Hrmmgrrl,” was all that Eleazar could say in response, before breaking into a fit of coughing. He dimly realized that he must have vomited at some point too.

Eleazar felt strong hands grab him, then gently turn him over. He looked up to see a weathered face looking down at him with concern. The man was deeply tanned, his features having the sort of rough character you could only get from a lifetime of working hard labor under the sun. Eleazar figured him for a farmer.

“Here, drink this,” the man said in a thick country accent, tipping over a small trickle of water into his mouth from a waterskin. The water didn’t have an immediate effect, but after a few minutes Eleazar felt much better.

“Thank you, sir,” Eleazar said. He meant it too. Sustenance had been a low priority for him the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d stopped to take a drink was. Revenge had sustained him, staving off hunger and thirst alike. Now that he’d accomplished his task his body had decided to collect the debt.

“You need us to stay here with ya?” The farmer asked.

“No, I’ll be right along,” Eleazar said.

“We ain’t in no kind of rush,” the farmer said.

Eleazar started to slowly make his way to his feet, not wanting to inconvenience the man further. He hated owing others. A boy, perhaps three or four years younger than Eleazar, helped guide him upright with a steadying hand. He hadn’t noticed the youth standing nearby, but when he did, he could immediately tell that boy was related to the farmer.

“Thanks, again,” Eleazar said, trying to give a reassuring smile. He realized by their looks that he’d done the opposite. Considering how bad the smile had hurt his jacked-up face, he wasn’t surprised.

Before they could say, or even worse do, something else he strode forward to catch up to the line of people he’d started with. After he’d made it a comfortable distance from the helpful duo, he pulled out the remains of a dry biscuit and began to painfully eat it. His jaw, lips, and face hurt but there was no use in continuing as weak as he was.

By the time he’d finished his crummy food, he’d caught back up to the line of inductees. All told there were only about seven children in front of him. A Trovian guard gently led two parents away that were crying and caterwauling. Eleazar wasn’t sure, but it had looked like the children they were with had been ushered into a nearby building that looked like a temple of some sort.

When the sobbing parents passed Eleazar he felt a spike of rage pass through him. They might be bawling, but they still clutched the fucking gold purses tightly in their fingers. Love with a price tag was no love at all, as far as he was concerned. Pushing down the swell of emotion as best he could, he tried to focus on what was going on at the front of the line.

A beautiful Trovian woman with golden skin and crimson hair sat under a tent in the middle of a peaceful courtyard decorated by colorful groupings of flowers. On a desk in front of the woman was unusual stone sculpture and an open book. She quickly scribbled something down on the book with a quill, then reached under the desk to pull out a sack of gold. She handed the gold to a “parent”. Unlike before, the woman didn’t look upset, but just stepped away from a young girl without a word. The girl was led away toward the temple building looking none too upset either.

Eleazar attempted to listen to what the Trovian official told the next group, but his eavesdropping was interrupted by a conversation going on behind him.

“Ya ain’t gotta do this son,” the thick voice of the farmer from earlier said.

“Pa let’s not argue. You know this’ll save the farm. Just make sure you get Ellie something nice from me with some of the money,” a boy said.

Eleazar felt the two embrace behind him.

“I will boy, I will,” the man said.

“I promise pa, I’ll be back one day no matter what,” the boy tried to reassure the man.

The lingering rage at the parents from before emptied out of Eleazar. A deep sadness took its place, though he couldn’t say why. He’d never had an adult care about him like this man cared for his son. Though he couldn’t sympathize with that sort of relationship, he did understand sacrifice. He was prepared to go to hell itself to rescue Lilion if that’s what it took.

As the line moved forward, Eleazar tried to peer into the ominous dark of the temple that the children were led into. The unknown didn’t scare him like it should have. He’d always lived by his wits and will. Anger had always seemed to protect him from fear, but as he investigated the mystery of the temple, he knew he felt something more than anger. He felt excitement. Maybe Lilion was in that temple?

By the time it was his turn, Eleazar was prepared for the process.

“Name,” the Trovian at the desk said in an imperious tone.

“Eleazar Hern,” he replied. She quickly scribbled his name down in the book.

“Beneficiary?” she asked.

“My uncle there,” Eleazar said turning and pointing at the shocked farmer behind him.

“Great, what’s his name?” she asked.

“Uh… I’m sorry ma’am, but I took a head injury on the way here. Uncle what’s your name?” Eleazar said. She looked up at him in disbelief, but then saw the state of his face and grimaced.

Eleazar gave his best busted lip grin to the farmer behind him, “Uncle…?”

“J-jon W-willhem,” the man stammered.

“Uncle Jon Willhem,” Eleazar repeated.

“Will your, (cousin?) be joining you?” she asked, then before he could respond she began writing the name of the farmer in the book next to his name.

“Nope, it’s just me. They are just here to see me off.” Eleazar quickly answered.

“Very well. Please grab hold of the stone so it can take your soul signature.” she explained.

Without any hesitation, Eleazar reached out and grabbed the top of the sculpture like he’d seen others do. A strange feeling like a breeze flowed through him, ripping through his hand and streaming through to the rest of his body. When he felt it reach down into his spine it began gathering in a painful tight pressure. Eleazar was almost about to yell out in pain, but suddenly the pressure released causing the stone to light up and begin a whistling sound.

Eleazar looked to the woman, afraid that he’d done something wrong, but her jaw was dropped open. Thinking he might have to make a run for it, he looked over at the nearby guards, but they were all stunned too. Hesitantly he stepped backwards.

The woman seemed to recover quickly. “Well, it seems your Uncle is now a rich man,” she said with a cheery smile. “You have magic!”

“W-what?” Eleazar asked.

She ignored him and began pulling out several bags of gold from a chest (ten in all).

“Get him to Lady Amatia immediately,” she ordered one of the guards.

Eleazar turned to follow the guard, hoping that he could maybe get in a question, but felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back to the see the farmer and boy, both in tears.

“Gods bless you son,” the man said.

“Take care of, uh… Goober, there,” Eleazar replied with a wink, then left off after the guard with a pep in his step. If the gods wanted to reward his good deed, they could make sure Dowde died in agony, he thought happily.