Arcana Series - Strength

Supper and Schemes

None of the acolytes talked during mealtime.

For supper, they each had a piece of mashed potato. No more, no less. Overcooked and, without even any salt nor pepper added in order to give it a bit more flavor.

They ate this with their wooden spoons and forks, without making any sound at all because, in front of them are three jurors. These adults ate together with the boys in their separate table. With whips ready at the side of their table, ready to punish whoever was insolent enough to make a noise during meal time.

That’s why the whole refectory was silent. The boys took the food as quickly as they could because, there was also a time limit to eating. There was even a punishment for leaving food on the plate when this has expired. As much punishment as there is in leaving pieces of it stuck on the spoon or fork. However, the irony is that there is also a punishment for eating too fast. Because then, the acolyte would be labeled as a glutton.

Due to all these rules, even meal time was like training and torture. The food wasn’t even good. It was just a single boiled potato, without anything else added to it. Finishing the meal wouldn’t even be enough for the boys who worked the whole day in training. But they couldn’t complain. Not against the jurors. Not against the authority which held their fate.

“Supper is finished.” One of the jurors said, ringing the small bell beside his table as all the boys stood up.

The juror didn’t even need to give further instructions. The acolytes stood up one by one as assistant acolytes inspected their plates, forks, and spoons one by one. An ordeal just as nerve wrecking as any other activity inside Sanctum.

The acolytes inspecting are unbiased because, they were the ones who received punishment whenever they reported wrong. That’s why they always stuck to the truth. Not because they enjoyed seeing other acolytes suffer but because, they didn’t want to get whipped for a mistake they didn’t make. And that is exactly what one of them reported. Raising a spoon as he said:

“I found one juror.”

The boy who owns the spoon tried to get it back but, as soon as he heard the juror’s whip crackle, he pulled back his hand.

“You idiots never learn do you?” The refectory juror, Boreas stretched his arm, preparing it for the punishment he was about to give.

There wasn’t just one offender however. In fact, five more acolytes have left a small and, almost unnoticeable piece of potato on either their spoon or fork. Angering Boreas even more as the jurors sitting at his left and right side also extended their whips.

“How difficult is it to finish a single piece of potato?” The whip crackled again. Making the accused tremble as they went to the front of the refectory. With everyone facing that way to witness what would come next.

Damian himself has experienced this whipping twice in his life. It was not a good experience because, the pain is something delivered when the muscles of the body have already relaxed from the training. There was a different level of pain to it. A searing and lasting one to the point that, he subconsciously learned not to repeat the same mistake a third time.

“I will repeat this as many times as needed! Especially for the new recruits!” Boreas crackled his whip again as the six boys in front took off their shirts. Exposing their back to the juror.

“YOU!” Boreas lashed his whip to the six who bit their lips and clenched their fists. Trying, as hard as they could, to refrain themselves from screaming.

“ARE!” The second lashing came. One delivered by the juror assisting him. Two of the boys jumped up a bit from the pain.

“TO FINISH!” The third hit stuck. This time their back was already bleeding. Their flesh exposed through the torn skin and, it was only going to get more painful.

“EVERYTHING” The fourth one hit their flesh directly. Finally making two of the acolytes break. Screaming from the incomprehensible amount of pain.

“ON!” Then came the next. The acolytes were already crying as two more screamed.

“YOUR!” All of them finally gave up. Their nails have dug through the skin of their palms with how tightly they clenched.

“PLATE!” Boreas ended, his breathing already paced from having to lash a whip several times. He isn’t the fittest among the jurors after all.

Meanwhile all of the acolytes were still standing. They were shaky and bloodied but, they were nevertheless on their feet. Refusing to fall down which would mean another set of lashings.

“Go back to your f*****g lines!” Boreas commanded as, the acolytes put their clothes back on.

This demonstration didn’t always come. But when it did, a lot of the acolytes felt like throwing up. All because they would remember how their own bodies go through this beating and, even remembering worse beatings than these.

With the offenders falling back to their line, Boreas finally announced supper to be finished. Giving everyone the order to head to the bath and wash themselves up before they go to sleep.

“Thank you jurors.” The acolytes replied. Bowing their heads as they proceeded to following Boreas.

This is the only time when the boys could actually talk. Not loudly however. They still needed to keep their voices as low as possible because there was no knowing when a juror was nearby. This lesson was hard learned as, there was a time when three acolytes were beaten half to death by a juror who passed by, hearing their loud voices which the juror didn’t fancy.

That’s why two people lined up on both Damian’s front and back. Speaking in an almost inaudible tone which, Damian has gotten accustomed to hearing.

“That was quite a sight earlier Damian. You really have the art of curling up like a turtle all figured out.” The boy at his back said.

“Shut the f**k up Blaze.” Damian replied, getting Blaze to grin just a bit.

“Well I for one think that it was poorly executed. You needed to curl your body a bit more to lessen the damage.” The boy in front of Damian, Cleo, said.

“Says the acolyte which doesn’t get into trouble.” Damian commented.

“Please, we all get into trouble. It’s not like they’re selective on who they beat up.” Cleo added.

“So are we just going to talk about Gerard beating me up or are we gonna talk business?” Damian asked, not enjoying the small talk he was sharing with the two.

“Of course we are but, let’s leave that for later. We can continue this discussion inside the bath.” Blaze declared as, they finally reached this place.

The bath place is a wide area found right next to the bedroom of the acolytes. These two places share one thing in common. That is, they are both wide. Enough to fit in the 200 acolytes who take a bath inside of it at the same time.

There wasn’t much to this place. The boys had a long corridor before entering the bath proper. Here they each had a small cabinet where two baskets are placed. One is for the dirty clothing which they wore – something they stripped off at that time. Revealing a bunch of muscular kids with scars and bruises all over their bodies.

While doing so, the acolytes had time to talk among themselves. There was no juror guarding the bath house after all so, they were finally free to converse. Yet their voices were still low just to be on the safe side.

“So, do you have what we need?” Damian said, stripping naked and revealing all the bruises he got from Gerard earlier. His stomach and the side of his waits already being discolored by a purple shade.

The one he was talking to at that time was Blaze. A boy with a crew cut just like the rest of the boys. His hair being black and a bit curly. As for his body, he is more muscular than Damian is. There was no doubt that he could easily overpower Damian in terms of strength.

“Of course.” This was the bulky boy’s reply. Taking off his pants as he furthered by saying:

“Why do you even think I got that position as part of the garbage disposal team?” He proudly declared.

“Right. Now as for you Cleo...” Damian said, moving his eyes to his other accomplice.

Unlike Blaze and Damian, Cleo’s body was a bit more slim. This is purely due to genetics which didn’t allow his muscles to grow as thick as Damian’s or Blaze’s. Nevertheless, the boy could easily be mistaken for a nobleman’s son. And with his silver tongue, he could fortify this bluff even more.

His ginger wavy hair and, his orange eyes complemented each other quite nicely. Completing the regal look which didn’t fit an acolyte who always has one foot on the grave.

This same boy placed his dirty clothes on his left basket as he said: “It’s safe.”

“I pieced together the information I got from the jurors whose mouths are too loud. It’s definitely okay for us to pass through.” Cleo added, getting both Damian and Blaze to make a plotting smirk.

“This is a seriously crazy idea you know.” Blaze said.

“I do. That’s why I only recruited those as seriously crazy as me.” Damian replied as the three of them proceeded to the bath itself.

“So we’re gonna go at that time right?” Blaze confirmed, his voice as low as when they were still in the corridor. And to this Damian gave them his confident smile as he replied:

“Yes.”

“Before the break of dawn.” Blaze added in excitement.

“That’s when we’re going to steal from these jurors.” Cleo finished.