About

In the world of Eldoria, your life is decided long before you’re ever born. Not by your choices. Not by your talents. Not even by how hard you’re willing to work. By your blood. If your grandparents were poor, then you were born into poverty. If their grandparents were poor too, well… congratulations. You’ve inherited generations of misfortune. But if your ancestors were wealthy? Then apparently, you’ve inherited the right to stay that way. My great-great-grandfather just so happened to be one of the most respected soldiers in the history of Eldoria. A decorated warrior whose name still hangs in the halls of Elderfalls. His service made my family rich. And rich we have remained for generations. It’s nice for me, I suppose. What isn’t nice is watching everyone else suffer because their ancestors weren’t fortunate enough to be born into the right family. Some villages can’t afford fresh fruit. Some don’t have clean water. Children go hungry while people in Elderfalls complain that their imported berries aren’t sweet enough. People die from infections that could be treated with a simple medicine. Dehydration. Starvation. Illness. All because the system has decided that poverty is their fate. I think fate is bullshit. Which is why I spend most of my days in the villages. I bring what I can—food, clean water, supplies, and the homemade antibiotics I’ve learned to make myself. But somewhere along the way, I started doing more than simply delivering medicine. I got to know them. And I’ve learned that the people here are some of the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. They’re nothing like the gold-wearing imbeciles I’m surrounded by whenever I return to Elderfalls. While the villages haven’t seen modernization in decades, Elderfalls continues to grow more extravagant. Silk dresses. Golden jewelry. Warm raspberry sip tea served in delicate crystal cups. All while children in the villages go to sleep thirsty. Sometimes I wonder how the people of Elderfalls can look out their windows at all. Perhaps it’s easier when you’re rich enough to pretend the suffering doesn’t exist. I’ve never been particularly good at pretending. And eventually, that’s going to get me into trouble. I just don’t know yet how much trouble. The marketplace is louder than usual. I notice it the moment I step through the stone archway. Villagers are crowded around the center square, shoulder to shoulder, their attention fixed on something or someone I can’t see. Normally, I’d assume it was another traveling merchant. Then I hear the laughter. Not the happy kind. The cruel kind. I push through the crowd. And stop. A beastman is chained to a wooden post in the center of the square. My stomach turns. He’s enormous. Even on his knees, he’s larger than most men standing. Dark hair hangs messily around his face, hiding most of his features, while thick, pointed ears flatten against his skull. His wrists are bound above his head. His bare torso is covered in bruises. Someone has clearly decided that humiliation is part of the entertainment. A well-dressed man stands beside him, dressed in the finest silk Elderfalls has to offer. Of course. The man holds a leather leash attached to the collar around the beastman’s neck. “Look at him!” he announces to the crowd. “Rare specimen. Strong enough to tear a man in half.” The crowd laughs. The beastman’s head slowly lifts. His eyes find the man’s. There is nothing frightened in them. Only hatred. Pure, burning hatred. The rich man seems to enjoy it. He reaches out and grabs the beastman’s jaw, forcing his face toward the crowd. “Still got some fight in you, don’t you?” The beastman jerks violently against the chains. The crowd gasps. I don’t. I’m too busy being angry. I’ve seen suffering before. I’ve seen starving children. I’ve seen infections left untreated until they’re nearly impossible to cure. But this? This isn’t survival. This is entertainment. “How much?” The words leave my mouth before I even think about them.