Born a Monster

324 224 – Harvest Week

Plotline: Main

Chapter Type: Social

There was no time spent imprisoned; we were shown directly to the tribune. “I am Fa Long, and this here,” he indicated a golden furred monkey in a cage, “is a Golden Monkey.”

“We are saved.” the mother said, “Golden Monkeys can sense the truth, and are upset by lies.”

“Indeed.” Fa Long said, “This shall ensure that you are granted a fair trial.”

The monkey began screeching at him, and Fa Long laughed at us.

Damn it...

[You have 24/80 health remaining.]

There were eight or so guards, and no reason to suspect any of them would join our side if violence broke out.

.....

“Us?” said the woman’s husband. “What of the true criminal, the butcher who would have chopped us up for meat? Does he work for you?”

“Fool!” the tribune spat back. “Behold the head on that platter there.”

We beheld. The butcher had been brought to justice, quickly and efficiently.

“Well, then we plead self defense.” The man spat back.

“So sorry.” the tribune said. “The charge is murder.”

Oh for the love of... “I was the center of our defense, honored tribune. The others would not have fought if not for me.”

Fa Long looked at his caged monkey, who smiled at him and nodded.

“So you contend that they are innocent?”

“He is the only one who killed any of them.” insisted a man.

The monkey screeched at him.

“Contempt of court!” the tribune yelled, and gestured with his fan. One of the guards took three steps, and hacked him in the neck with a sword. The beheading that followed was brutal, but I cannot say it ended swiftly.

The smell of urine was coming from several of my fellows when it was over.
“Well, now that unpleasantness is handled, let us proceed. As I have said, the charges facing all of you are murder.”

“Mercy.” called the husband. “We are still willing to aid the harvest in exchange for coins and food.”

My stomach grumbled. Food.

“You.” Fa Long indicated me with his fan. “You would fight for the lives of your fellows?”

I spread my hands to indicate helplessness. “I have admitted my guilt in this matter. Your monkey can stand witness to that truth.”

“And he already has.” the tribune said. “I am asking, do you have any remorse, or would you fight again in defense of these others?”

“Given the same circumstances, I would, your honor.”

Fa Long looked at the monkey, who looked back at him, and nodded.

“Very well.” he decided. “It shall be a contest of endurance, then. My men shall attack you, and every blow you survive, one of these defendants shall be found innocent. The others shall die.”

“May I at least have a shield?” I asked. The fight at the slaughterhouse had claimed my last good shield.

“You may have a metal plate.” he decided. “Though fashioning it into a shield shall be your own labor.

“Thank you, honored sir.” I said, picking up a silvered plate, and folding it first double upon itself, and then around my left arm, a crude but effective bracer. Yes, in retrospect I ought not to have. It gave away my strength, and warned his champions to fight at their best.

“Remember, this is not trial by combat.” Fa Long said. “If you deal any harm to my guards, the trial of endurance is lost, along with every life you could have saved.”

I pulled one of the butcher knives I had taken from my inventory, held it in the defensive position.

Need I go over the details? I was the last to be released, but that blow was never struck.

“Enough!” Fa Long declared. “He has won innocence for all the accused save himself.”

I looked at the guards, who seemed reluctant to approach me.

To the penniless, he said, “Go to the tent to the left of the main entrance. Tell them you are innocent; eat to your heart’s content. Go forth, and commit no more crimes.”

“And me?” I asked.

“You,” he said, “are worth further consideration. Clearly, you could do well for us upon the wall. But you must have known that, and yet you are here. Unarmored, unfed, and armed with a stolen knife. The penalty for thievery, by the way, is death.”

I shrugged. “Honored tribune, I would be dead without a weapon to parry with. Given the choice between death and death seems very like the only choice is death.”

The monkey spat at me from inside its cage, but nodded silently to its lord and keeper.

“What a gloomy outlook.” he said. “You may beg now, if you wish. For your life, or for a quick death. Ah, but I see enough in those odd eyes of yours. You aren’t a beggar, are you?”

[You have 6/80 health remaining.]

I dropped my knife, pulled the third and final one from my inventory, and dropped that as well. I pried the remnants of that poor plate from my arm, threw that away into a separate pile.

“I can be reduced to begging by extended periods of torture.” I said. “I probably won’t survive if you try it in my current condition.”

The monkey screeched at me, and Fa Long broke out in laughter.

“No.” he said. “Such amusement deserves to be rewarded. Go to the tent just to the left of the main entrance to this one. Tell them you have been found guilty; eat so much as you can hold. Go forth, and commit no more crimes.”

“And child?” he said, as I backed away, “Remember who it was who gave you your life when another would have taken it. It would be your honor to repay that life into military service.”

“May it please honored sir, I have previous commitments.”

He kicked the cage, but the monkey within remained silent.

“Well?” he said, “Show in the next group of accused and read off the charges.”



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The food wasn’t hearty, a watered down millet gruel with tiny chunks of pork whose grease formed a linked surface on any bowl left too long. The smattering of nuts was too thin to count as a source of nutrition, but there were vegetables. Wilted, with only two thirds of the nutrition they should have provided, but vegetables nonetheless.

Of course, the food hadn’t been infused. Why bother, when there was so little to work with?

Still, I downed a mighty forty eight servings of that horrid stuff before I was full. Even at a mere eight nutrition per serving, it was more than enough for that day, and the next, and to put a dent into the food needed for the day after that.

“That was very courageous of you.” the father said to me. “My name is Zuqong Bei, and I would be honored if you would work the fields next to us during this harvest week.”

I would be honored just to curl up in the corner of the tent and fall asleep, but he had a point. Harvest week would last longer than the food in my belly would.

“Honored elder,” I said, “The monk who tried to train me has given me the name of Ping. It would be my pleasure to work in the fields, if such work is still available.”

“You are both of you menfolk crazy.” the wife said. “We nearly died, and you two speak of helping those who would have killed us.”

Her daughter hugged her thin waist. “Mother, we are alive, and safe. What greater fortune is there?”

The wife leaned over to hug her other child to her as well. “The heavens keep us together tonight, and many other nights to come.”

Was my mother aware of my life? Would she say such things about my continued survival? The answers I came up with to such questions only made me sad.

We found no abandoned buildings that night, but there was a family of Farmers, by a field of unpicked cotton, and another of flax, who had soft mattresses and blankets for the night, and work that lasted us three days.

By that time, the youngest of our group had located the best work for us for the remaining days. While the civilians of the middle sector celebrated the week, we and the Farmers gathered the surviving crops. “Honored sir,” I asked one of the quartermasters who gathered our crops, “have we gathered enough to end the time of half rations?”

“Ah-ah. No, child. We shall be at half rations through the winter. But have no fear, spring will come soon enough, and bring the Thawing Week with it.”

“Meh, is there any good news?” one of the men asked.

“The nine who have been causing such disruption inside the walls are done for.” he told us. “I don’t know the details of that.”

He might not know that, but I knew how to locate someone who did.

Tribune is used here to denote a military judge. They work by the military code, which presumes that the defendant is guilty unless evidence can be shown otherwise.