#trotr

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In my life, I’d made a lot of mistakes.

But none quite as bad as this.

All I could do now was close my eyes, clench my fists, and hope that they wouldn’t find me.

Because if they did, I was as good as dead.

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In case you haven’t seen the overabundance of wanted posters with my name on them, let’s begin with an introduction.

My name is Silas Crow. Guilty until proven innocent; wanted dead or alive.

It’s not that I’ve led a life of crime. Quite the opposite, actually. Up until a few years ago, my parents and I had been living a simple life on the island of Cartris—a territory of Losca, just a little south of the mainland. Popí was a fisherman, although he liked to call himself a sailor. Mimá would sell the fish he caught. She was also well-educated, so she’d reserve some time every day to teach me. When I didn’t have lessons, I’d often go on fishing trips with Popí or help Mimá at the Cartris fish market. Sometimes, Popí would even take us to mainland Losca for a week. We’d sell fish there—at the larger market, so that we’d get more money.

It was a peaceful life. But that was before Endox came around.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had always been high for us peasants, but Endox wasn’t satisfied. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since so many peasants had gathered for the protest, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

It had been one of those weeks where Popí took us to the mainland. But this time, instead of selling fish, we were there for the protest.

If only we had realized beforehand what a mistake that had been.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. Later, I’d find out that only about thirty of them made it out alive. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself.

Then she, too, was shot. The bullet lodged itself in her leg, causing her to cry out in pain and collapse to her knees.

“Mimá!” I screamed, an agonizing mixture of fear and sorrow building up in my chest.

Mimá grasped her calf where she had been shot, but she gathered up her strength to look at me one last time. “Go, Silas, please!” She cried. “Find the Nemesis. Find Hunt. He’ll help you.”

“No!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Come with me, please—I can’t lose you, too.”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the pain.

Then she was shot again. As the second bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor's troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

---

Days passed, then weeks, but it felt as if the March on Estraham had happened only yesterday. The streets were plagued with the emperor’s soldiers, or the Dekhrinn, as they had come to be known—Loscan for people of terror.

They accepted this name—in fact, causing terror was their main goal. Whenever they saw the Dekhrinn coming, people hid away in their homes, shut the curtains, and locked their doors. And yet, every day, someone would disappear, usually in the dead of night. But no one dared to fight against them. They were too terrified.

As for me … I lived off of whatever I could find. And I had come to discover just how many alleys Losca’s capital city, Cyvalos, had.

Alleys that were perfect for hiding.

As the stomping of boots drew closer, the only thing I could focus on was the racing of my heart in my ears. The voices became more and more defined until they stopped right outside the alley.

“Have you found anyone?” a deep voice asked.

“No, sir,” a second man said.

“Names.”

“What?”

“Tell me their names,” the first one demanded, irritated.

I heard the crinkling of paper, and I took that opportunity to slightly peek my head out from the shadows. Four Dekhrinn were positioned just outside the alley, their armor shining red and gold. Loscan colors. Two of the men stood off to the side, one twirling his fingers nervously and the other rocking back and forth on his heels. Another Dekhrinn stood with his back to me—the one who had fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last man stood in front of him, a badge on his shoulder making it clear that he was the one in charge.

“We were assigned four revolutionaries, sir,” said the man with the paper. “Fenerias Hunt, Annwyl Cadarius, Eraka Orelein, and—” he hesitated. “And Silas Crow.”

So they were looking for me.

“You still haven’t caught Crow?” growled the man in charge. A pause, then he mumbled, “The next time I ask for a report, that Silas boy should have been brought to the emperor, alive or dead. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, I heard his boots stomp away.

The other three Dekhrinn let out a long exhale as soon as he was out of earshot. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then the man with the list of names yelled, “Well? Don’t just stand around! Find them!” and he, too, stomped away.

The two other Dekhrinn shuffled closer to the alleyway entrance. I ducked into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“How do they expect us to find them?” one wondered aloud. “Losca is huge. They could be anywhere.” Silence, then he prompted, “Henrik?”

“What?” The other man—Henrik—asked.

“Do you ever wondered what would happen if we … you know, ran away?”

Henrik was silent for a beat. “Don’t say that. You never know who’s listening.”

“Yes, but …” There was a shuffling of feet. “Endox—”

“The emperor, Keflas,” Henrik corrected. “Show some respect if you want your head to stay attached to your neck.”

“If the emperor hears what I have to say about him, he’d behead me anyway,” the man named Keflas mumbled. “I think … well, don’t you think he’s a bit unfair?”

I had half a mind to run up to his face and yell, you think? but I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

Keflas continued, “I’m scared, Henrik. Just the other day, Sigourney’s husband disappeared.”

Henrik grunted, finally opening up to conversation although he still sounded a bit uncomfortable. “I heard about that,” he said. “Rumor has it that he was turned in by his own brother. They say you could hear his screams from the other side of the castle.”

Keflas shuddered. “Whatever he said, he probably didn’t deserve and end like that.”

“Exactly, which is why you should shut up before someone hears you!” retorted Henrik.

Keflas mumbled an apology. “Maybe we should start searching.”

Henrik muttered his agreement, and I heard their feet stomp away.

I slowly peeked my head out again, checking to make sure they were gone. Once I was sure that the alley was empty, I tiptoed out of my hiding place. This was my chance.

I ran as fast as I dared out of the alley—or tried to. Halfway out, I tripped on a root and fell on my face with a thud.

“Did you hear that?” came Henrik’s voice from the other side of the alley. 

“Dakhas,” I cursed quietly. How could I be so stupid?

“Someone’s in there,” said Keflas.

I cursed again, then stood and quickly brushed myself off. Maybe I could still make it out without them finding me.

“There he is!” Henrik yelled.

I glanced behind me. Henrik and the other Dekhrinn from earlier—the one with the list of names—were running towards me while Keflas called for more soldiers.

That settles it, I thought. Time to go.

I sprinted out the alley.

Blood rushing in my ears and the Dekhrinn only a few paces behind me, I turned a corner just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed past me, just missing my ear.

I paused only for a second. Almost there, I thought to myself.

I kept running, pushing past confused passersby whose eyes widened when they saw who were behind me. I just had to get to the docks.

To the Nemesis.

As it came into view, I paused for a second to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. After weeks of searching, I had finally found what Mimá had told me to find. The Nemesis was what seemed like a large trading vessel. Why she asked me to find it, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get aboard, or else I was dead meat.

“Hey!”

Oh no.

I glanced behind me and saw not two, but eight Dekhrinn running after me, pistols drawn. I eyed the docks again, but it was too far of a run. They’d shoot me down before I even got close.

To my left was a bustling fish market that seemed to go on for miles. If I mixed in with that crowd, they’d never find me.

I whispered a request for the Nemesis to stay at the docks for a little longer, then raced toward the fish market with eight Dekhrinn hot on my heels.

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So, what'd you think?

Also, keep in mind the names of the three revolutionaries (excluding Silas) they're searching for. These characters are important later 😉

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Up until a few weeks ago, our country of Losca was at peace. Or at least, as much peace as you can get with a self-obsessed emperor.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler ever since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had already been high for us peasants—sailors, farmers, and laborers alike—but Endox didn’t stop at this. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since peasants made up over seventy percent of the population, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself—but they didn’t seem to hurt. Nothing hurt. I had gone numb.

Then she, too, was shot. As the bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor’s troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

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