I was captured.
Our quiet village was overrun by goblins from the north. I was one of the few who escaped untouched. But the rest weren't as lucky. I saw it with my own eyes—men, women, children, cut down like cattle. Every time I blink, I still hear Mrs. Cano's screams. She cried that she was pregnant, begged for her life. The goblins didn't care. They tore her belly open and devoured the baby while she was still alive. And me? I hid. I pressed my palms against my ears, squeezed my eyes shut, praying I wouldn't hear her die.
"Don't talk!" a guard barked. "Or I'll have your tongue, peasant!"
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," a man muttered, shrinking back.
The guards had arrived after. Men from Neto, the nearest city. They claimed they'd been trailing the goblins for two days, following their camps, tracking their paths.
When they reached us, they called it a rescue. But our village wasn't registered with the Kingdom. We paid no taxes. That alone was enough for them to shackle us, drag us from the ruins, and cart us toward Neto—to be judged.
Two horses pulled the wagon we were locked in. It was little more than a wooden platform with rusted iron bars bolted around it, its floor stained with old blood. Six of us huddled on the benches lining the sides while two guards, hands resting on the hilts of their swords, watched us with sharp eyes. Some villagers still sobbed quietly. Others stared ahead with that hollow look—the kind people wear when they've lost someone dear. I knew that look too well.
"Water. Please," the man beside me croaked. "I'm… begging you."
"No water for you, scum," the nearest guard spat. "You live on our lands. You cut down our trees. And you give us nothing back. You should've thought of that."
"Freeloaders," the second guard sneered.
"Please…" the man whispered again.
The first guard strode over and struck him hard across the face. His head snapped sideways, tears streaming as he began to sob. My stomach knotted—I sat rigid, praying the guard wouldn't turn on me.
But it wasn't enough for him. With a snarl, he seized the man by the collar and slammed him to the floor.
"You don't get to sit!" he shouted. "None of you do! On the ground!"
"You heard him!" the second guard barked. "On the ground, all of you!"
We scrambled down together, pressed against the filthy planks. The wagon jolted as the horses dragged us along the rocky path, and without anything to hold onto, some of us toppled into the bars, heads striking metal with dull thuds.
Yes, not paying taxes was a crime. We all knew it. But the real crime was the amount they demanded. I honestly didn't understand how anyone could survive in the villages, let alone in the cities. It felt… impossible.
Luckily, Jeremiah had decided to head into the city to sell some items before the attack. At least he made it out unharmed.
"We're nearing the city!" the coachman shouted from the front. "Maybe five minutes!"
"Got it!" one of the guards called back. "You sly bastards, get ready."
A prisoner suddenly lurched to his feet, chains rattling. "You won't take us alive, whoresons!"
"What?"
The man hurled himself at the nearest guard, clawing for his weapon. But the guard moved quicker. With our wrists bound, none of us could do more than flinch as the soldier caught him, slammed his forehead into the prisoner's nose, then shoved him down. The man hit the floor hard.
The guard didn't stop. He drove his boot into the man's skull once—twice—again and again. Each crack of bone drew gasps from the prisoners, me included.
When at last he exhaled and pulled his boot away, the prisoner's body twitched once before falling still. Bits of brain clung to the wood. One eye was simply gone, popped out from its socket.
"Anyone else?" the guard asked evenly, as though he hadn't just caved a man's head in. Silence answered. "That's what I thought."
A small hand gripped my arm. I turned. Kivi—Mrs. Bulana's daughter. Only eight, usually all sunshine and mischief. Now her blonde hair was caked with dirt, her dress torn, little hands covered in scabs. Her blue eyes looked as dim as dying candles.
I pulled her close, rubbing her back. I wanted to tell her it would be fine, that she'd be safe. But the words stuck in my throat.
"River," she whispered, voice trembling. "I'm scared."
"We'll be okay, Kivi," I forced out, my own voice shaking. "Trust me. We will."
She sniffled. "Where are they taking us?"
"To the city," I said softly. "They'll… do some paperwork, then let us go."
A lie. We all knew what awaited: fines we couldn't pay, cells reeking of rot, maybe a week without food before they tossed us out. Kind, in their own twisted way.
I glanced at the iron biting into my wrists. The chains blocked my magic, sealed any chance of fighting back. If I could just break free… but they held too firm.
One of the guards stepped over the corpse, ledger in hand.
"You," he said, pointing at me. "Full name."
"River Lock."
"Age?"
"Sixteen."
I froze when I saw the book. Our village ledger. We used it to track gold donations for festivals and games, sometimes giving prizes to the one who donated the most, like wine, drawings from children, swords, shields... Never thought the thing would be used against us.
The guard ran his finger down the page, stopped at my name. His eyes narrowed.
"You donated fifty gold in one week. How's that possible?"
"I… I just—"
He leaned in and slapped me, hard enough to rattle my teeth. "Don't lie, boy. It won't end well."
"I was mining in Grettra Cave," I stammered. "Selling iron to another village."
"Mining unauthorized, huh? And stealing from the kingdom," he sneered. "Have you no shame?"
"Let's let everyone go wild, then!" the other guard bellowed, spreading his arms wide. "Mine where they please, kill who they please—let chaos reign! Is that it?"
I clenched my jaw, biting down on every word I wanted to spit. I could still see the other prisoner's shattered skull. If I opened my mouth, I'd join him. My gaze dropped to the floor. This whole chain of events, the goblin raid, the capture, these guards, felt like some waking nightmare.
The first guard nudged my leg with his boot until I looked up.
"Where's the gold stashed?" he asked. "I know you're hiding it for hard days."
"I'm not," I said quickly. "I swear."
"Don't lie to us," the second guard growled. "You've got some. Where is it? In your home?"
"No! You can search for it!" I snapped, desperation leaking into my voice. "That last donation cleaned me out. I've got nothing left!"
"Leave him," the first guard muttered. "He'll talk once we starve him."
"Eh, you're right. His choice," the other shrugged.
As their attention shifted from me to the next prisoner, I let out a shaky breath of relief. They would bleed us dry, take whatever scraps of gold we had left. And the guard had been right—I did have some hidden away. A small stash, saved for hard times. Buried inside a hollow tree with pink leaves, a bird's nest resting in its branches. But I'd die before telling them.
The questioning dragged on as the wagon rattled forward. Five, maybe six minutes later, the walls of Neto loomed into view. I pressed my face against the bars, staring.
The city was immense, its walls stretching high and unbroken, built from pale stone that caught the light like steel. Towers jutted up from the battlements, narrow windows glinting in the distance. Beyond the walls, the land was stripped bare—no trees, no grass, only trampled earth and scattered watchfires. A moat of stagnant water circled the base, broken by a single stone bridge leading to the massive iron gates. Around the outskirts, I saw tents and shacks clustered together, the poor who couldn't live within the walls clinging to survival in the city's shadow. Smoke rose in steady columns, and even from here I could hear the clang of hammers and the faint hum of voices—life swelling behind those barriers.
"Big city," one of the guards muttered. "The big city."
"I'm scared, River," Kivi whispered, clutching my arm tighter.
"It's okay, honey," I murmured, stroking her hair. "Everything'll be fine."
"I don't want them to starve me," she said, her voice small and fragile. "River…"
"Shut up, ya little whore!" the guard snapped, eyes narrowing on her. "Or I'll tear your tongue out!"
Kivi gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes squeezed shut. The guards chuckled at her fear—monsters, every one of them. Worse than bandits, lower than beasts.
The cart rattled forward, wheels groaning as the coachman slowed the horses near the towering gates. Two soldiers stood flanking the entrance, each gripping a long spear. Their armor was unlike the men caging us—just basic equipment. Spear, light brown armor, nothing special.
The guards who were with us, however… they weren't common watchmen meant to keep peace among drunks and thieves. These were the King's hunters—trained to track, to endure, to handle the dangerous work far beyond city walls. One of them was worth ten of me, maybe more. These men weren't to be taken lightly.
"Halt," one of the guards outside commanded, raising his hand. "What is this?"
"Lawbreakers," the man escorting us answered flatly. "Let us through."
The gatekeeper's eyes drifted to the corpse sprawled in the corner of the wagon, skull caved in. "You… what have you done?"
"Let us through," the escort snapped, his tone sharp, daring him to argue. "I won't say it again."
The soldier at the gate muttered a curse under his breath. "Gods…"
He exchanged a grim look with his partner. Reluctantly, they heaved on the heavy chains and shoved the great wooden doors apart. The gates groaned as they gave way, opening the mouth of Neto before us.
And there it was—the Big City. Neto.