Chapter 7: A Show Of Good Faith "You will pay me twenty silver coinsh for thish uselessh boy?" Hagrid asked, as his good eye shifted toward Riven with the same dismissive indifference a merchant might show toward cracked pottery resting forgotten in some dark corner of a market stall.
"He ish no fighter... the mosht I’ve seen him do ish carry two bucketsh of water at once without dropping them..." Hagrid continued, his swollen tongue dragging against his broken teeth while saliva gathered along the edge of his mouth. "He cannot become an Ashendant... the boy ish damaged goodsh..."
Torak chuckled quietly after hearing that, while rubbing the thick beard along his jaw.
"Well, whether the recruiter manages to shape him into an Ascendant or not hardly matters to me," Torak replied calmly. "The moment I deliver the children into his custody, my responsibility ends there.
The arrangement we have is to pay by number, not by quality."
A faint grin spread across his face afterward.
"So yes, the twenty silver coins are guaranteed."
Riven listened to the entire exchange quietly from near the wall, his lowered eyes hiding the violent beating of his heart while his fingers slowly curled against his palms beneath the sleeves of his worn clothing.
Because for the first time in his life, he could finally see a path leading somewhere beyond this suffocating brothel, and while Torak and Hagrid viewed the Valdrak Empire as a machine that consumed children for profit and survival, all Riven could think about was the possibility of finally seeing the outside world with his own eyes after spending nearly his entire life trapped within these walls.
And perhaps even more importantly than that, he felt his blood pump just at the thought of getting to learn how to fight.
As if there was one thing he wanted more desperately than anything else in his life, it was power.....
Power that could help him exact his revenge on all those who had wronged him.
"Fine then..." Hagrid muttered eventually, as he shifted awkwardly in his wheelchair while the wooden frame creaked beneath him. "I’ll give him to you... though I only have two caretakersh left now... thish boy and Tashaaa... so I still expect him to work around the household while training to become an Ashendant..."
Hagrid demanded, as Torak nodded immediately.
"Well, that changes nothing," he said. "The boy still belongs to you until we officially cross into Valdrak territory. After that, his ownership transfers to the Empire."
Hagrid wheezed out another laugh after hearing those words, as though the thought of receiving twenty silver coins for a slave who would become useless to him the moment they reached the Empire amused him greatly.
"Then we have an agreement..."
He muttered, as Torak slowly rose from his chair, his large frame seeming to dominate the room once again as the wooden floor groaned beneath his weight.
"Well then, thank you for the cooperation, old friend," Torak said calmly, before briefly turning his eyes toward Riven near the wall.
The glance lasted barely a second, however Riven still felt cold afterward, as though just making eye contact with the chief had drained him of a lot of energy.
Then finally, without another word, the village chief stepped toward the exit and disappeared through the doorway.
*Creaaakkk*
The old wooden door slowly shut behind him.
And the moment it did, Hagrid began laughing.
"Hah... hahahaha..."
The cripple’s body shook violently in his wheelchair as his half-dead face twisted into a greedy grin while strands of saliva dripped down his chin.
"Hope... at lashht..." he whispered excitedly. "Maybe there really ish a healer in the Valdrak Empire capable of fixing thish broken body of mine..."
His breathing grew heavier as his eyes wandered toward his useless legs.
"Maybe I’ll walk again..."
For one brief moment, Riven almost saw something painfully human within the cripple, as beneath all the cruelty and filth, there still existed a desperate old man clinging to the faint possibility that his ruined body could someday be restored.
Then Hagrid slowly turned his head toward him.
And whatever sympathy Riven almost felt vanished instantly.
"Hah..." the cripple wheezed. "It looks like the future holds hope for me... and despair for you, boy."
His crooked grin widened further afterward.
"Even if you become a sholdier... all you’re really doing ish marching toward your own death..." Hagrid continued, as his words dragged together in an ugly slur while his good eye stared directly into Riven’s soul.
"How doesh it feel knowing that? Knowing that no matter what you do... no matter where life takesh you... you’ll never become anything important..."
Riven lowered his head obediently after hearing those words, exactly the way he always did whenever Hagrid spoke to him, as he maintained the appearance of a broken and submissive servant despite the hatred quietly festering beneath the surface of his calm expression.
Because while Hagrid laughed inside that wheelchair believing himself victorious, Riven silently swore that when the time came, he would return every insult this cripple had sent his way tenfold.
—------------
That night, just as Torak had told Hagrid, the village council gathered near the central fire pit resting at the heart of Ashfang Village, where thick logs crackled beneath the freezing northern winds while dozens of tribe members slowly assembled beneath the dark sky with uneasy expressions spread across their faces.
Large animal hides had been stretched around the meeting grounds to block the harshest gusts coming down from Frost Valley, however the cold still lingered heavily in the air while smoke drifted upward toward the stars in twisting gray streams.
Torak stood near the flames with both hands resting behind his back, his broad frame illuminated by the orange glow while beside him stood a tall unfamiliar man wearing layered leather armor reinforced with steel plating unlike anything most villagers had ever seen before.
Even the sword hanging at the stranger’s waist looked foreign.
Its sheath carried silver engravings running along the surface while the man himself stood with the posture of someone trained for war from a very young age.
Whispers spread quietly through the gathered crowd as villagers exchanged uncertain glances while trying to study the outsider.
"The man standing beside me is Recruiter Garron Vale of the Valdrak Empire," Torak announced eventually, his deep voice silencing much of the crowd almost immediately. "He arrived several days ago carrying an offer that may very well determine whether this tribe survives the next decade."
Murmurs spread afterward.
Garron stepped forward calmly after hearing his introduction, as the man swept his gaze across the villagers before speaking in a composed and practiced tone.
"The Valdrak Empire has expanded rapidly throughout the northern territories during recent years," Garron explained. "New roads are being built. New settlements are rising. Trade routes are opening across lands that were once considered uninhabitable."
His voice remained steady and confident.