The carriage ride to the mine is slow, painfully slow. People will say it is preferable and far more comfortable than walking to our destination without any assistance. I have no idea how someone will come to that conclusion. It just seems they want a reason to be lazy. But it gives me a moment to think to myself, to at least clear my thoughts. It takes time, but it is time well spent to figure out a solution to the problem at hand.

  Simon and Thorgan sit across from me. Simon looks through his papers and folders, throughout the entire trip, he mumbles to himself about the dodads and how they will soon arrive. Thorgan just looks out of the window, his old eyes following the world that passes by. Perhaps something is on his mind; maybe he dreads having to return to a mine. I can’t blame him if that is the case. Even if it wasn’t my mine, they are all the same kind of hell.

  ‘Okay, so negotiating with the dodads should be easy at least.’ Simon calmly says. ‘We don’t even need to provide them with a lot of accommodations as well. Creatures are hardy.’

  Thorgan’s growly voice grumbles. ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, easy really. Give them one meal and they don’t need to eat for a month, give them a glass of water and they’ll be fine for two weeks.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Thorgan responds. ‘The creatures are hardy. I just hope what you are saying is not the bare minimum for their survival. They will be our guests, so we do have to treat them well.’

  ‘So what do you suggest? So far, they sound easy to manage, even if they need minimal resources.’ I ask.

  ‘Well, I say let them roam around for a week, it’ll put them in awe. They’re an isolated people, so they won’t know anything about our culture or question why my people are in chains. They might mistake our species for being the same. The bugs are just like that.’

  ‘Having all of these preparations just to help with negotiations doesn’t make it easy.’ Thorgan points out.

  Simon can’t help but chuckle at Thorgan. ‘Dodads are bugs, creatures that don’t have any history, and besides, the world just sees them as pests. They’re not bright, we can just say “everything is legal and fine”, and they’ll be on their way. See, no smarter than cattle.’

  ‘Your people said the same thing about us when we fought back. Stating how it would be an easy campaign. This just reeks of Cinari arrogance.’

  Simon scoffs at Thorgan’s observation. ‘Look, I know what I am doing. I’ve talked with them before. They are easy to talk down to and simple enough to push into a corner. All we have to do is say the right thing at the right time.’

  ‘I’m not convinced,’ I chime in. ‘If they are like what you said, then negotiations are not necessary. However, I get a feeling that if they do attack, we won’t be able to hold them back with the army we have down South. Would it be easier to just kill them and be done with it?’

  ‘It’s a matter of formality. While they don’t have a seat in global politics, they are still entitled to send diplomats to negotiate. Even if it often goes nowhere for them. Also, if we go to war against them and attack their diplomats, then the world will assume the worst and seize the opportunity to take the South. It isn’t the bugs I fear, it is the people at the other side of the ocean keeping an eye on the conflict.’

  Thorgan and I eye each other, our sharp glares confirming what we both feel. Simon, despite his intelligence and willingness to help us, is not saying anything about our future guest factually. Every word uttered is laced with hate, and it shows.

  The dodads, however, do sound like strange creatures. There is perhaps something about them that Simon is hiding. They might be taller than buildings, and they might even be able to take over the world. Whatever they are, it is best to talk to them with some level of caution. No species is stupid. They live on this planet long enough to perhaps understand how the world works to a degree. Compared to us, we lack essential knowledge because of our slavery. They might lack smarts because of their lack of education, in that case. In that case, Simon will be right about their intelligence, but it will not be a fault of them as a people, but of their kingdom.

  ‘So, what about the Cinari at the mine?’ Thorgan says, changing the conversation. ‘How should we deal with their demands?’

  Simon shrugs, thinking the answer is obvious. ‘We hear what they want and we help them the best we can.’

  ‘And what if their demands are unreasonable? Or worse, what if they are a threat to us?’

  ‘No demand is unreasonable from slaves, nor will they be a threat to us.’ Simon sharply replies.

  ‘That is where you might be wrong.’ Thorgan leans towards me. ‘We have to be ready for every possibility. I say it is good to help if we can, but we also need to show our authority if necessary.’

  ‘You sound like a warden!’

  Thorgan snarls at Simon, trying his hardest not to lunge at Simon and strangle him. ‘Don’t call me that! Alex brought me here for advice, and I am giving him some. Don’t you dare call me something I am not!’ The old Dog waits for Simon to reply, but he isn’t brave enough to speak out. ‘As I was saying. They will despise us, even if we help them. It is not a matter of if but a matter of when before they try to break out of captivity. If that happens, we will repeat history, only this time the Cinari will be the ones marching across the South. What I suggest is we prevent that at all costs, just for long enough to put an end to slavery.’

  ‘So what do we do if they are a risk?’ I ask Thorgan.

  ‘I don’t know. Hopefully, nothing too drastic to demand immediate action.’

  ‘Glad we can agree on something.’ Simon says before going back to his papers.

  Already, I can tell this is going to be a long ride, two days left before I get there, two days before I have to face the people I’ve enslaved.

  The place never changed when I left it. The dead open field where Marak charged through, the mine built on the side of a cliff face where I shot my arrows. There are still scars from that battle. Sure, there are no bodies. But the memory of death lingers here, and it will be forever fresh.

  I hop out of the carriage, the earth between my feet is the same as the day when some of my people died storming the mine. Even though the ground is wet and covered in a thin layer of snow.

  Thorgan rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘You alright?’

  ‘I fought here; it was the first mine we’ve liberated.’ I point towards the mine’s stonewalls, how the towers face towards the mine. ‘Some say that is where the war truly began, but really, I think it was the fort we took down south from here.’

  ‘Balis, the old ruin?’ Simon says.

  ‘Yes, Fort Balis. Our first fight on the surface. We all know it won’t be the last.’

  I head towards the gates of the mine. The wooden gate is now fully repaired and operational after we knocked it down with a tree stump. I order for the gate to open, standing at the other side is the warden of the mine. She approaches me, drool spilling from the overhanging cheeks of her flat face. She is hunched over. Either to make herself appear less of a threat to me, or perhaps she just has back problems.

  ‘G’day, glad to see you here on this fine day.’ She says before noticing Simon, her cheerful expression becoming more sour. ‘And I see you brought the pet with you.’

  Thorgan cuts Simon off before he can say anything foolish. ‘We are here concerning the slaves.’

  ‘Martin’s gang?’ The warden spits on the ground. ‘Yeah, we have problems with them. We force them to work, but bastards keep trying to back-talk or go on strikes to make some foolish demands.’

  ‘And what are those demands?’ Simon asks.

  ‘Shut it, raka!’ The warden waves her hand to dismiss Simon. ‘As I was saying, they are becoming more bothersome to deal with. If you can figure out a way to make them compliant, I’ll be in your debt.’

  ‘If they are a problem, why not just kill them?’ Thorgan states, horrifying Simon. Though it is a good point, typically, it will be best if they just kill them and be done with it.

  ‘Because the bastards outnumber us, and I don’t want to martyr him.’

  I nod to the warden. ‘Thank you, I’ll take it from here and see what I can do about this. I’ll make sure to let you know if we need any help.’

  The warden raises a brow before shrugging it off like it is nothing. ‘Fair enough, just don’t get yourselves killed.’ She heads inside a small cottage, maybe that is where she sleeps.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Thorgan chimes in.

  ‘I’ll go in with Simon and see if we can break a deal. But seeing how things are going, I think it’ll be best if you stay up here, Thorgan. Perhaps talk with the guards and see if there are other issues. I feel there is more to this place than I like.’

  ‘You don’t sound too happy about this place.’

  ‘I’m not, this place always comes off as rotten to me. Let’s just get this over and done with.’

  Thorgan splits off to chat with the guards. While Simon and I make our way into the mine, we walk through the dark tunnels. Simon seems to look uneasy, a bit frightened by the prospect that what is inside might make him wheeze.

  Dread washes over me. Like I am walking back into my old life once more, how it reminds me of the day I was branded.

  The musky air reminds me of my old home. The clanks and cracking of the earth in the distance remind me of who I once was. Like it is calling me to remember my birthright. I shake my head, trying to divert my mind away from the memories in relation to those senses. To think this used to be normal, that this place was my life. Now it feels like a dream, a nightmare I wish to never return to.

  We enter the centre of the mine, my gut turns to see the white circle still there. Marak and Midrax fought in that arena, just to see who should lead us. I suppose, looking back at this moment, we were reduced to nothing but animals. Clawing each other just to survive.

  The Cinari in the room lock their eyes onto me. Holding their tools like weapons tells me they have some sort of ownership of this mine, even if they are under guard.

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  Martin, I assume, walks up to me. His dirty and faded purple suit, his dirty black hair, and the anger in his eyes remind me of someone. I should know him from somewhere, but it isn’t clicking.

  Simon reaches his hand out to him. ‘You must be Martin? I’m Simon and this is…’

  Martin slaps Simon’s hand away. ‘State your business or fuck off. I don’t have the time to deal with traitors.’

  Simon steps back, hurt by the notion.

  ‘We heard you have demands, we came here to see what you need.’ I say to him, though he doesn’t seem impressed.

  But his demeanour changes, his mouth cracking a sarcastic grin. ‘I remember you. You were at Mindas, were you?’

  I give him a nod.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. You’re the one who put me in here and saved my niece from that bastard father of yours.’

  ‘And how is she doing?’ I need to de-escalate. I don’t want to start talks with hostilities. Perhaps mentioning her will ease things along.

  ‘Died of pneumonia last winter.’

  Oh shit! We are off to a really bad start.

  ‘And you fuckers don’t give a rat’s ass about it either.’ Martin continues, ‘I called for help, and you just let her whither and die.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘No, you're not!’ He interrupts me. ‘Your species are never sorry, no one can make your kind feel sympathy for others even if we bred it into you. So don’t give me your false pity, I don’t want it.’

  ‘We are here to help, not cause problems. Tell us, what do you want?’ Simon asks.

  Martin scoffs at him, trying to ignore his presence. ‘I’ll ask you Dogs to stop playing Kings n’ Queens and get back in your cages. But before that happens, I and many others will like some food, wooden bed frames and mattresses, clothes, our old stuff, oh and somewhere else to live.’

  ‘I can give you food, better bedding and clothing for the winter. But other than that, I am limited in what I can do.’ I honestly reply. I hope he can see that I want to help, but for that to happen, he needs to calm down.

  ‘Bullshit! You Dogs are here because you want to listen to what I have to say. So, be a good boy and follow my request to the fucking letter. It’s in your nature to serve and obey, and I can tell you are itching for a chain around your neck. So, fuck off and get serving.’

  ‘That is over, Martin. I’m no longer your slave, and soon you’ll be a free man yourself.’

  ‘Ah, so you plan to end it? Even when you are the one who put me here! Why keep me here if that’s the case? Why not free me now?’ He laughs, taken aback at what I’ve said. ‘You are always a slave, your people always are. It just so happens that a few of you can’t handle your own nature and role the Gods gave you. And when this war is over, I’ll take pleasure in putting your kind back in chains.’

  ‘We both know slavery is a horrible thing. I came here because I am willing to help you, and we can quickly transition out of that horrible system.’

  ‘You came here because I ordered you to come here. Hell, even if I explain it in detail, there is no way on this fucking planet that you can understand the necessity of slavery as an institution! We need tools, and we made you into a tool of our design. I mean, look at you! The Regent of the South is standing here because I requested it.’

  ‘Look, we both need to work together. We can’t just…’

  ‘Can’t what?’ He steps in front of me, trying to intimidate me. I tower over him, yet he is trying to frighten me. ‘Are you going to punish me? Hang me? Tell me, Dog! What are you going to do?’

  I pause, saying nothing. No matter what I say or do, he won’t listen. I want to offer a hand of cooperation, yet his animosity will swipe it away. There is no point in talking to him. He is too far gone.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ Martin mocks as he backs away from me. ‘You won’t do anything. All of this is just a phase, and your kind will crawl back into the mines sooner or later. It is just a matter of time.’

  My mouth becomes bitter, making it nearly impossible to swallow. Simon tries talking to Martin, only to be met with insults. Calling him a traitor for conspiring with the enemy. But I block them out, trying to regain my footing. What I see in this man is nothing worth saving. He is a direct threat to a world I want to create, someone so willing to cling to something without letting go. Yet his anger, his rage, through his voice is nothing but venom. He is no different to Marak in that regard. They are one and the same. The same losses, the same hate. The same determination.

  ‘We’re done here.’ I say to them in the middle of their conversation.

  Martin sarcastically rolls his eyes. ‘Really? And what will you do now?’

  ‘I’ll look over your demands tonight and arrange a few things to happen. Tomorrow morning, we’ll move every one of you out of here.’

  Simon looks at me in shock, but nods in agreement.

  Martin grins before walking off to his gang. ‘Good, at least part of your nature is still there.’

  I ignore him; my steps become heavy the closer I get to the entrance. Seeing this, Simon catches up to me. ‘Glad to see you doing the right thing.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ I harshly reply. Not wanting to continue the conversation further about our interaction with Martin.

  No one talks about the burden of leadership. How it will weigh heavily on your shoulders, the choices that will erode your soul. There are times we have to go against what we believe to do what is necessary. Well, that is the excuse I and perhaps many others before me will make when confronted with a difficult problem. I am strong enough to admit it is an excuse. Even though it is a necessary one.

  Thorgan and the warden are already aware of my plan and intentions with Martin and his gang. At first, they were hesitant, but they both agreed on it once I explained my reasoning behind it. They can’t stay in the mine; they have to leave.

  Outside of the mind, I stand by my carriage with Thorgan and Simon as Martin and the rest of his gang line up in chains.

  ‘What’s the purpose of this? Can’t we just leave without them? Also, where is everyone?’ Martin says to me.

  ‘It’s mostly a formality, don’t worry, you’ll return home either way.’

  He smiles to himself before chatting to his mates. Excited that they are leaving the mine and possibly going home to their family. I overhear some saying this is the end of my people’s rule over them and that they will have their old luxuries returned on short notice.

  The void in my heart sinks into itself, my sigh heavy as I gesture for the gates to open to lead Martin and their people outside of the mine. There should be about forty of them from a glance, maybe fifty. I should do a proper head count, but no, there is no point.

  Simon sits in the carriage, writing in their journal with hopeful glee. Smiling till we bring Martin and his people outside of the mine’s walls and into the open field.

  ‘Make it quick.’ I whisper to Thorgan. In response, he nods. Knowing what needs to be done.

  My Dogs form a line after a crank of their crossbows. Every Cinari is escorted outside, away from prying eyes, trying to figure out what is going on. It’s already too late. With a wave of the warden’s hand, bolts fly through the air. Bringing down the majority of them in a single volley. Some collapse to the ground, others try their fruitless escape. But there is no use. In seconds, they all die. By my orders, away from home and away from friends, and to be forgotten by the world.

  Simon runs out of the carriage, tears streaming down his face. ‘What have you done?!’ He mumbles, his voice cracking at the sight of gore. Crying at the deaths that I have caused.

  A tired breath escapes my lips, my chest tightens as I muster what strength I have to face him. To look straight into his eyes. I know what needs to be done, I know I can’t let them live.

  ‘I’m sorry. They didn’t leave me with a choice, I have to act.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Simon shouts. ‘You promised them… oh Gods, you promised to help them!’ He croaks, covering his face before collapsing onto his knees.

  My hand reaches out to comfort him, but he slaps it away.

  ‘They are a threat to what I am trying to build.’ I explain to him. ‘I can’t let people like them live if they are only going to threaten our unity.’

  Simon grits his teeth, glaring at me with red eyes. ‘Hypocrite! That is the sort of thing my people did to yours. You are no different, you monster!’

  You're right. I am no different, and this is the easiest option. I could wait it out and gradually change them. But I can’t, I don’t have the time, and I don’t want to risk it all over a possibility that they might change. Deep down, it is the only reasonable option. We can’t afford another uprising, nor will I have my people in chains again. A stand must be made, and they have to die.

  He sits there, mourning over his own people. They call him a traitor, someone who isn’t one of their own. Yet Simon will stand for them and defend them. Like a mother weeping for the loss of her only child. It then clicks to me, revealing a side of him I never expected to see. He cares about them, loves them. It isn’t romantic or platonic love, but a love for the people. He cries because of a chance for them to change. I made myself a judge and executioner. Maybe that is why he protested for my people when we were in chains. He sees us as equals.

  The warden takes a step towards us, frustrated with Simon’s pained weeping. I raise my hand to stop her. It doesn’t matter how long it will take or how loud he is. He needs the moment to mourn. He deserves it after what I have done.

  … I’m sorry.