"I…I didn't…" The commander walked closer to me as he gripped my necklace in his fist. He approached with a sense of malice, like he was about to beat me for information.
"The follow-up force landed on the island and began their assault on the Saltfort as planned; however, we encountered zero enemy resistance. I made the call to change the plan to a stealth mission, assuming our approach wasn't noticed by the enemy. However, when we scaled the walls, do you know what we saw?"
I tried to remember what happened then. I remember the war slaves descended into the central courtyard of the fortress and began fighting with no plan whatsoever. I remember seeing bodies, limbs, blood, and guts. Death.
"We found a miracle."
The commander sat down on the side of the bed. His whole aura shifted instantly; what was once intimidating was now crestfallen. He stared down at the floor as he continued.
"As we moved into the fortress itself, there were more bodies, bodies of the enemy…only bodies of the enemy. We accounted for all the war slaves' corpses in the courtyard, all but yours. You were found in the commander's office, surrounded by bodies that were ripped in half. So, I ask again. How did you do it?"
He turned to face me, and his face was hard to read. He looked, curious but also afraid of me. Like a man facing down a monster.
"I don't know, I have no memory of fighting."
The commander held out the golden feather again and handed it to me. He looked at my face, examining it.
"You're…Shinya Akame right? The one that isn't the enemy?...Right?"
Just then, I remembered when I was younger, a small blonde boy in fancy clothes told me something just like that before placing a golden feather necklace around my neck. Could this perhaps be his older brother? I reached out and took the necklace back.
"Do you know a small boy named Nigel by chance?" I asked without thinking about it too much. I almost felt like too much of a leap, but I feel that he knows the original owner of the feather.
The Commander then reached into his shirt and pulled out a golden feather necklace, identical to mine.
"I'm Nigel"
"Huh? But you're…"
"Taller? I had a growth spurt five months ago. It's the only reason I was accepted into the army."
"Aren't you… Younger than me?"
"Mm, I'm fourteen, barely."
"How are you a…?" I glanced at his clothes.
"Commander? Simple, I'm a Fenring."
Fenring. I had heard about them, a noble house of the south. One of the richer ones that governed most, if not all, of the Ironwoods. I was only told about this days after I first met him by my mother, she told me in response to the golden feather, but at the time, I didn't understand what she was talking about.
Nigel held the necklace by its chain and placed it over my head, letting it fall around my neck.
"Look, I don't know if you did or didn't commit the crime you are accused of, but whatever happened over there can't be denied. You are a war slave…do you understand what that means?"
"That I'll be thrown at the enemy till I die?"
"Yes, but you didn't die. A war slave's contract is 100 years of servitude; each enemy of the nation you kill as a war slave reduces your sentence by a year. Do you know how many enemies were occupying the Saltfort?"
"A hundred"
Nigel chuckled a bit, I don't quite know why. I guess being in a place like this, you laugh at odd things.
"Almost seventy, however, if you can do, whatever it was you did on that island a second time, you might just become free before you know it."
I thought about that for a moment, like the words repeating in my head. Was that really a way out? I mean, it had happened twice now, so it could happen a third time. I smiled at the idea of being able to go home and see my mother again, even if I was a murderer in the eyes of the village, we could just leave and go somewhere else, right? It excited me a bit.
"Of course, even if you finish your sentence, there's no way they would let you leave."
"What?" Shock rattled my face. Surely that's not true, it can't be true.
"Do you think the Commandant would let a tool as useful as you just walk away from the war? No, I'm sure you'll be put to good use as a living weapon. That said, that wouldn't sit right with me. So for the time being, you'll be placed under my direct command, understood?"
Nigel stood up and faced me, extending his hand. When I didn't reach for his hand, he tilted his head with a slightly confused look.
"You're still a war slave, you know?"
Of course, this wasn't a question but a command, and I had to follow it. With a faint sigh, I shook his hand, and he grinned faintly. I suppose a commander getting a living weapon would be happy about it. I wonder what happened to him? That crybaby I met in the woods all those years ago? Is this really the same person? What happened to him?
I remember he used to have this big smile and an innocent look in his eyes. He wanted to be friends with everyone and everything. But this man is shaking my hand now, he looked sad, beaten down, like someone killed that part of him.
"Now, since you're under my command, I suppose I should get a tent pitched for you. Wait here."
He hurried towards the exit of the large tent, leaving me confused. My own tent? For a slave? Just as he was leaving, he turned his head back towards me and smiled. He remembers when we met back then. Does he still consider me a friend?
"Où est-il? Pouvons-nous le voir maintenant?" [Where is he? Can we see him now?]
"Cela fait déjà trois jours." [It's already been three days.]
I recognised those voices, I heard them not that long ago back home. The twins? Sure enough, it was; they rushed into the tent and walked up to me. Their faces were similar to how Nigel was looking at me before. Like they were looking at a monster.
"Comment te sens-tu? Ton bras va bien?" [How are you feeling? Is your arm okay?]
My arm? I looked at my left arm, the one that was gone in the dream. It was fine, it looked fine and felt fine. So why were they asking me about it?
"Oui"
"Est-ce vrai que tu es un esclave de guerre?" [Is it true that you are a war slave?] The other asked.
"Oui"
"Avez-vous vraiment tué ces trois personnes de notre village?" [Did you really kill those three people from our village?]
That one was harder to answer. I don't think I did, but everyone believes I did. Everyone says I did. Was that really any different to the truth anymore? Did it even matter if it was a lie? It's what people think is true, and that's all that matters in the end.
"Oui"
The twins looked at each other and left. They didn't say another word. Surely they see me just like that now too, right? A monster, a murderer. The thought of that made me mad. I got so upset, I felt this heat and pain in my chest. What if that's how Mother would see me now? Would she think of me as a monster? A murderer? Could she even look me in the eyes? Those two didn't. I got so upset I clenched the bedsheets tight, my chest burned, my eyes watered.
Just as the dam that was my face was about to burst wide open, just as all this was about to come out, I heard a voice.
"Tu es un homme bien. Je suis sûr qu'il y a une explication." [You're a good man. I'm sure there's an explanation.
I looked up only to see the back of the twins as they left. The moment left me frozen for a moment, not even breathing. I lifted the sheets to wipe my face and let out a sigh before getting out of the bed.
Nigel had left clothes out for me. It was a drastic improvement from the dirty and worn-down rags I was in before. I had a tunic, pants, boots, a belt even. The fabric was thick and warm and felt pleasant against the skin. Once I had finished dressing myself, he returned.
"Good, you're up and about. How are your legs? Not wobbly?"
I look at him, confused. Why was he asking me things about my legs? I was perfectly fine.
"I'm fine."
"Hungry? You must be after three days."
"Three days?"
"You've been unconscious for three days."
It felt like no more than a standard night's sleep had passed. We set out our attack at dusk, and now it at least felt like morning. If it really has been three days, it certainly doesn't feel like it. No fatigue, no shake in the legs, only a slightly above average hunger.
"I could eat."
I was presented with nothing short of a great feast. There were meats, breads, and fruits as well as things I had never even seen before. Nigel and I sat at a table in his tent as he insisted I eat first. Was this his normal meal? Perhaps double? Either way, I was hungry, and this smelled and looked like a feast fit for a noble.
As I held a chicken wing to my mouth, I realised. Wait, shit, this guy's a noble. Of course, he would have certain expectations of people, and here I am about to eat like a savage at his table. I put the chicken wing down and picked up a knife and fork, fiddling with them for a moment as I tried to get a 'proper' grip.
"Are you not actually that hungry?"
"Ah! Ah, n-no. I am, it's just that, I figured…being a noble."
"Eat like you would at home."
With his permission, I dropped the knife and fork, grabbed the wing and crammed it into my mouth, pulling the meat off the bone. I let out a low, involuntary moan of pleasure from the taste as I started to chew. But to my shock, he did the exact same. He grabbed a chicken wing and crammed it into his mouth like a starving dog.
The two of us ate, neither using our utensils. Eating like poor slobs. I had a strange feeling he enjoyed it, maybe it was something he never really did. It reminded me of when we first met. Did we eat like this back then as well?
Once we were done eating, a soldier came in to tell us that the new tent had been erected. It was right next to this one. I suppose he wanted to keep his new weapon close. The tent I was assigned was far smaller than Nigel's. Mine only housed a bed and a chest on the floor for storing things, as well as an empty armour rack.
Over the next three days, I felt pampered. It was an unsettling feeling. I was fed the best food of my life daily, and I was allowed to bathe in Nigel's personal bathtub in his tent while he was away organising the reclamation of the Saltfort. I was given my own armour and a weapon. After we ate together in his tent, Nigel would spar with me using sticks. Naturally, I was awful at combat. If the fight were real, he would have killed me a hundred times over without breaking a sweat. All this treatment made me feel uneasy, as if I was being given a grand send-off with high hopes.
"You've been assigned to a new experimental division that I'm in charge of. It will comprise you, me, those twin friends of yours, and three others you have yet to meet."
I put the warm bread back down on the table between us. "What do you want me to do? I can't fight, you know that already."
"You can't fight, but you can kill. I think you need to be in real danger, though. Even then, I don't plan to throw you to the wolves. We're going to establish a new method of warfare."
"A new method of warfare?"
"Yes, I will lead a small team into enemy territory, and we will cripple their supply chains, intelligence networks, anything we can really. All while trying to remain undetected, of course."
"And what do you intend for me to do?"
"Just…hang around?"
I was dumbfounded. What kind of request was that? Wait, of course. He thinks I might be able to do whatever it was I did if my life were really in danger. So if this sneaking about doesn't work. If someone is found, I'm the backup option.
"So what am I? A tool? A weapon?"
Nigel shrugged. "I don't know what you are, or what you're really capable of. I just know you're a kid from a farm far away, and you frankly have no idea what's happening."
For some reason, that made my chest feel tight. Like something wanted to burst from it. It persisted even till later that night when sitting in bed.
"It was you, wasn't it? Wrath?"
A pair of eyes in the darkest shadow of the tent began to glow a soft red. Ah, so you're listening to me now?
"That was you. You killed them, didn't you? At the fortress? How? Did you take over? Did we… swap places? Are you in that dark place even now?"
"Yes"
"Survival at any cost, right?"
The eyes vanished, and the word once again blared in my mind, like it was being screamed into my ears and burned into my eyes. Survive. But under it, I sensed another word, a faint hint of something more. A desire buried under the idea of survival.
Slaughter.