He was petrified, disgusted, and most of all deeply disturbed by the things he had witnessed. Starved of food he watched his fellow prisoners do things that made him sick. Killing and eating eachother, trying to fight the guards in desperation, to jumping under the wheel of the wagon.
As carefree as he acted, he was hurt. Tormented by the pain they felt and what they did to cope.
The nameless boy, born into a world where words held no meaning and names were stolen was slowly decaying him as the jealous inhabitants slowly killed off those who shared his traits. Never understanding why to begin with.
He was dying not from the broken ribs and internal bleeding, not the hunger, and not the cold. He was dying to his own mind, as his very existence was being seemingly poisoned by the world and it's inherent treachery.
He was starving to death when he took that bite of the young boy, he is still starving to death now. The guilt he felt for wanting to swallow a few pieces of him, and the guilt he had for regretting having not done that were deafening. Before he could hate himself too hard, as the voice in his head that may or may not be mystical by nature desperately wanted, the young boy walked into the castles banquet hall.
However the hell he managed to outrun fully fit and healthy guards of a duke's castle, I haven't the foggiest. Alas he has found real food! But before I could say anything else to poison this dying brats mind he tears into a turkey with zero hesitation.
Because what are tasters for when you're on the brink of death anyways right? Better hope nobody attempted to poison the Duke this fine night. Though the boy was far too enveloped in his food to care for the words of the voice that is I.
Too tired to speak, or even capable of doing so at this point with all the food in his mouth, the boy took as much as his malnourished arms could carry and scurried it up some nearby staircase.
Hoping to find some room to take refuge in, the boy runs inside the closest one and hurries inside. Closing the door behind him he slides the food under a bed and crawls under it as well. Hoping the bed would cover his presence if anyone were to happen to be in this room.
Which there was…
A small girl around the nameless child's age lay soundly asleep. Completely unaware of the rugged, malnourished, weak, pitiful child under her bed. As the voice described the situation, the boy was already sound asleep, having long learned to tune out the amazing and helpful voice when he wished to rest, the boy remains unaware of the pressing issue.
Alas, the voice doesn't like repeating itself! Hopefully he doesn't get found and killed before he wakes up. That would be quite unfortunate. Hours upon hours passed. The young boy slept for way too long before eventually awakening from his near eternal slumber.
Grabbing a handful of mashed potatoes he scarfs it down and savagely eats all he can. Unaware of his current predicament, he continues with his loud meal. After a bit of a delay he makes a confused expression, almost as if he wasn't told about a predicament but chose to tune his ever so reliable and benevolent voice out.
Freezing he slowly crawls out from under the bed, which in the light of the sun looks quite luxurious! Too bad he stained it with the food he shoved under it.
Looking around he doesn't see much of anything until he notices an unusual lump in the covers on the bed. Perhaps it was his rush or maybe even his ignorance but a little girl no older than 11 sits shaking on the bed. No wonder why! A savage little beast in the rags of a slave have entered her room.
The boy tries to speak but chokes on his starchy breakfast and blood. The internal bleeding is becoming a problem for the poor child. It's a wonder his broken ribs haven't stabbed anything important inside him yet, with how much he's been moving around the boy should've died by now.
Seeing the blood, and the pieces of mashed potatoes being coughed up, the girl grimaces before making a sympathetic face. The boy recoils back, never seeing a face like that before. Somehow it seems more threatening to him than the anger on the face of the boy who tried to kill him. Not that he could've seen it anyways since he was choking him from behind.
The girl takes her hands and makes an odd gesture with them. Instead of the usual middle finger the boy is used to, it's an indescribable but complex weave of fingers. Not only does the girls hands perform this weave, but new fingers melded from seemingly nothing appear to add to it.
Before the boy can recoil in shock the process is over. His hunger is gone, his ribs are healed, his head is clear, and his neck is no longer rugburned. All of his injuries healed instantly. The many fingers of the girl crumble and dissipate as quickly as she formed them.
"A… sorceress?" The boy asks with wonder in his voice. But before the girl could answer he saw her arms had turned as black as obsidian and she grew into a coughing fit.
The girl coughed for a long time. Unable to do anything the boy stood still. He didn't know how to comfort someone, for his brother was distant and nobody around him ever showed such gestures.
He knew what people normally did… to him at least when he was like that. But somehow beating the poor girl until she stopped definitely didn't sit right with him for two reasons. She had helped him not feel pain, and he was deathly certain that was a mean thing to do. Which is surprising to say the least because the boy is an idiot!
The boy glared for a moment and softened his gaze as spoke to the girl. "Are you alright miss?"
Quickly regaining her composure the girl spoke. "I'm okay… they aren't supposed to treat slaves poorly in the castle. If you tell me who did this to you I can inform my mother to punish your owner." The girls intentions seemed innocent but he didn't know what to say. Mistaken for a slave isn't great but it's a step up from being a nameless.
"I'm not-" before he could finish, the girl started coughing again. Black lumps of unidentifiable liquid landing on the ground as the boy grew silent, patiently waiting for a chance to speak.
Once she gained back her composure she beamed with excitement. "Oh! You're the knight in training! You must be Alexander no?
A sudden confusion hits… both me and the boy. That's not supposed to be possible now is it?