An extra’s tale

Arthur sat silently, watching the sun rise, savoring the few stolen moments of peace as sunlight filtered through the iron bars of his window.

The warm rays brushed his bruised and swollen face, giving a brief reprieve from the cold. He was grateful they had placed him in a cell with a window, the view providing the illusion of freedom and peace. If only for a moment.

 Soon, the echo of boots disrupted his solace. A guard approached, not bothering to cuff him as he was dragged outside.

A large gray van was parked in front of the family manor. It was his transport.

Arthur knew the Thoracen Empire's ways, during war the Empire was ruthless, and because of it he was able to take advantage. He hadn't begged to be sent to the army, for noble reasons of restoring his honour or the like. Before regaining his memories, he'd thought the body he now inhabited was fifteen. He was wrong. Arthur Gravewalker was only fourteen, yet to undergo The Trial.

In two years, the Army would provide a scholarship for young prospects in their midst. They would provide a full scholarship to attend the Royal Magic academy. Arthur had to be one of them. Two years to prove himself, to become known within the army, within that time he needed to become valuable. If he failed, he'd be condemned to a soldier's grave, weak and forgotten, with no chance to escape his crimes or forge a life of his own. Strength was his only path to freedom, his strength, no one else's.

As the guards marched him toward the van, he spotted his family waiting. His father stood tall, expression unreadable, as if Arthur was just another problem to be handled. Yennefer Gravewalker, his mother, stood beside him. She was beautiful, with white hair and ocean-blue eyes, but today they carried a sadness that stabbed deeper than any whip or fist. Her disappointment burned more than any beating Thanason could give.

Arthur's gaze then fell on his little sister, Elsie, perched on her mother's shoulders. Her round, cherubic face and wide red eyes mirrored his own. She adored the old Arthur. She deserved better than the brother he had been.

"I'll come back, Elsie," he vowed silently. "I'll be better. I promise."

Regret weighed heavy in his soul. Reshi's regrets. Arthur's regrets. More than a lifetime of mistakes, but this time, things would be different.

The van's doors slammed shut behind him, muffling the wind's icy sting. Across from him sat a soldier, dagger in hand, his dark eyes glinting with barely concealed contempt.

Duke Reynolds Gravewalker watched the van roll away, his youngest son inside. His shoulders were square, his stance unyielding, as befitted a Duke. No weakness showed on his face, not even as he saw the bruises marring Arthur's features. Arthur had brought this upon himself, and now he had to pay.

Beside him, Yennefer's hand clenched his arm in a grip that betrayed her anguish. She said nothing, her composure as practiced as his.

"Who was that?" Elsie asked, her small voice breaking the suffocating silence.

The Duke glanced down at her. "It was Arthur. Your brother."

"Really?" She tilted her head, red eyes filled with curiosity. "Where's he going? Is he coming back?"

Reynolds lifted his daughter, holding her close. "Your brother made a mistake, Elsie. A big one. He's going to fix it now, but it might take a while. Be a good girl for when he comes back, all right?"

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded. "Okay…"

The Duke held her tighter, feeling guilt gnaw at him. He knew the truth. Arthur wouldn't return. The boy would be dead within the month.

The war had raged for two years now, a brutal rebellion tearing the Thoracen Empire apart. Criminals like Arthur weren't sent to prison; they were meatshields, disposable lives used to shield trained soldiers.

Reynolds kept his face impassive as the van disappeared from view. His son was gone.

The van trundled into Oatharl, a bustling city that was right next to the manor. They quickly arrived at the teleportation gate, rolling into it after a brief check of the drivers credentials. As the van passed through the gate, a chilling sensation washed over Arthur, like being submerged in ice. When they emerged, the warmth of Oatharl was gone, replaced by the cold city of the frontlines.

Due to the advancement in magic, construction could now be performed at a speed unheard off. It was common for cities to be made at the frontline base in order to provide adequate shelter and a base of operations. After the war would finish, the cities would either turn into Ghost towns, or develop into a fully-fledged military base.

A young soldier awaited him, blonde hair gleaming in the faint sunlight. He couldn't have been older than twenty.

"Arthur?" the soldier asked, his tone strained with disgust,

"Yes, sir," Arthur responded, saluting without thinking as Reshi's military instincts took over.

The soldier smirked before driving his fist into Arthur's gut, dropping him to his knees. A boot followed, pressing against his head.

"You're no soldier, noble brat," the soldier sneered. "You're scum. Try acting above your station, and I'll make sure you regret it."

Arthur forced his rage into a cold corner of his mind. "Yes, sir," he replied, voice even.

'If I get free; he thought with cold rage, 'I'm going to kill you.'

The soldier yanked him up by his hair. "Follow me Lordling. Let's see how far the gods have abandoned you."

The base bustled with activity, soldiers and officers moving with purpose. Arthur and a handful of other criminals were herded into a building where a grim-faced officer waited.

"Attention!" the officer barked. "You're all here because you failed your country. Criminals. That's what you are. I'm under no illusions on the content of your character nor your feelings of being in this army. But the gods have granted you a second chance. Serve well, and you will redeem yourselves. Or at least die trying."

Arthur almost laughed at the speech. He had heard it all before in his previous life. A bunch of lies to convince the young to die more vigorously for the old, for reasons they never knew. He'd fallen for it once. Never again.

"As a mandatory test, I will now test for your mana talent. Don't worry, I doubt anyone here would have sufficient levels."

One by one, the others were tested, placing their hands into a machine that determined their potential. A green light meant you'd be transferred to a magical unit. Red meant cannon fodder.

The Officer paused at one boy further down the line. He was one of the younger ones and was around a year or two older than himself. He was tall for his age, easily a head higher than anyone else in the building. With long brown hair that fell to his shoulders and dull green eyes. When he was tested, unlike the Officer, Arthur wasn't surprised to see it beep green. The first one to have sufficient mana talent.

"Hohoh", the Officer chuckled, sizing up Noah appreciatively.

"Stand behind me lad, you'll be going somewhere else."

The boy obeyed the command like a robot, his eyes betraying no signs of life or fire. Just a dull understanding. Arthur knew this boy. It was Noah Seaborn. Well at this stage in time he was just known as Noah. He was one of the boys who had been admitted into the Royal Academy under the army scholarship.

'Shit, I hope we're not in the same unit.' Noah was a powerful prodigy, and at his heart, a good person. Yet his character was stained by a deep hatred of nobility. It was never mentioned why in the novel, but Arthur knew just how much this person was willing to do against a noble. A noble like him.

 When Arthur's turn came it had surprised him to see the machine beep green. From what he knew of the old Arthur's life that had been briefly mentioned in the novel, he was a person who had died soon after being branded a criminal and left on the streets. That must've meant that Arthur had possessed a low talent in mana. After all, anyone with a sufficient talent of mana could definitely gain a comfortable living. No matter their past.

The officer sneered. "Blood will tell, eh? Once a noble, always a noble. Get in line."

Arthur really didn't want to, but he silently left the line to stand next to Noah, trying to avoid the burning glare at his side.

'Fucking great, my first potential friend my try to knife me when I sleep. Just perfect.'

Arthur had been the last one who was tested. Soon another soldier came in, leading the rest of the criminals away.

After the criminals had left Officer Skelter turned to the two remaining, his eyes fixed on the white haired noble. The noble was wearing rags that must've once been a quite expensive suit, his pristine face now an amalgamation of bruises and swellings, courtesy of General Thanason.

SighIng inwardly, he stepped towards the noble. He had no love for the nobility to be sure, but it didn't mean that he enjoyed what his superiors had ordered him to do against the Disgraced Gravewalker. Make his life hell they said. Beat him everyday. It went against everything Skelter believed in, but then again, orders were orders. And he must obey.

"You, stand aside. I need to have a talk with the Lordling here," he commanded, pointing at the taller boy.

 Noah quietly moved to the side, his eyes burning with a silent glee. Taking a deep breath, Skelter consoled himself that the boy had attempted to rape someone. So he surely wasn't do anything wrong here. Surely he deserved what was coming for him.

Without preamble, the officer unleashed his fists, every blow calculated to hurt but not kill. He felt bones break under his boot as he repeatedly kicked and stomped on Reshi's body, which had long since collapsed to the floor.

Arthur took it silently, his face blank, his mind retreating to memories of Reshi's suffering. Pain was nothing new.

When the officer finally left, Arthur lay on the cold floor, blood pooling beneath him, his breath coming in short wheezes. Before leaving the Officers placed a collar around his neck. Then he exited the building with Noah, leaving Arthur on the floor, beaten near to death.

'I'm sorry boy, but I gotta do what needs to be done.'

Skelter consoled himself with the thought as he escorted the taller criminal to his Unit. Before the tall boy entered the building of Unit 7, Skelter placed a collar around his neck, giving the control to the red-haired lady that he knew was in charge.

"Here Mara, this remote can disable or kill him. The button there will send enough electricity to leave him on the floor begging for mercy. The kill switch has to be voice activated. You can set it to your voice."

Mara, the Officer in charge of the unit sighed heavily, her dark eyes regarding the remote with disgust. "Must we really use this James?"

Skelter smiled sadly, "Those above say we do. And I listen to those above."

Before Skelter left he handed her a second remote, "Here, this is for the other one."

Mara raised an eyebrow, "Where is he?"

"Well, it's the noble boy. You know, the one who tried to, you know, with General Thanason's daughter."

"I asked where he is, James."

"Well, I had orders Mara" he replied hesitantly, trying to avoid her sharp gaze. "You should probably call a healer to Building two, he isn't in good shape."

Mara laughed, it wasn't a humorous laugh, but cold and sarcastic. "Forever the Dog of the army aren't you, Skelter."

"And forever pretending to be the saint in the army Mara. Don't you hate the nobles as well? You should be on my side about this."

Mara smiled. "Oh yes I do. But I'm my own woman Skelter." Before he could reply, she overrode him. "I'll get a healer to collect him, you can go now." Sighing heavily, Skelter left without a second word, his expression conflicted.

Meanwhile Arthur was laying on the floor. Wheezing and coughing blood. Multiple bones had been broken, and he was sure that there was some internal bleeding as well. After being battered, the Officer had placed a collar around him, and left him here.

'Am I going to die?'

The thought drifted unbidden through his mind as darkness encroached. He had died once before, betrayed by the boy he had saved. Now again, death felt closer than ever. His one familiar feeling.

'Am I going to die?'

Arthur failed to fight against the darkness that overcame his vision, but right before the blackness took him, he could hear the sound of running feet.

'Help me,' he begged inwardly in the moments before he was swept away by the darkness, tumbling through dreams and half-forgotten memories.