The Sound Of Despair

Over the following weeks, Sturm continued to monitor the suspects. The seven children were on the brink of death, and it was highly questionable if they had the energy left to sabotage Sturm. Considering the fact that none of the slavers had noticed the failed obstructions, the perpetrator had to be considerably skilled.

Even if one of the children had the ability, their current states impeded any action on their part. Therefore, Sturm paid extra attention to the teenagers. Not only were they in a considerably better condition, having worked for years already in the quarry, but each of them also expressed their jealousy at one point or another.

The prime suspect was 1035, nicknamed Crawler, as no one crawled as much at the slave driver's feet as he did. Crawler tried out his specialty with Edgar as well, prostrating himself in front of the merchant until the hot sand burned his knees. While it may seem that someone who bowed down so easily would not have the courage to sabotage others in front of their wardens, it was actually the opposite.

Sturm knew that there was no place for pride among the slaves. Crawler's willingness to do anything to survive and his determination when burning his knees, even though that would make his work in the quarry harder, was the reason Sturm suspected him the most.

The other three slaves were simply too inconspicuous. One of them already seemed to have lost his soul after being rejected by the merchant, not even reacting when slavers would whip him. The other one was in a slightly better shape, looking a bit stronger and more well-fed than other slaves, but that was it. Apart from that, he simply did his work without any incidences. And for the last one, well, he died a few days ago.

<<Now, how do I catch that little rat? He has been too slippery over the past weeks, and honestly, I am getting fed up.>>

After thinking about it for a while, Sturm came up with a solution. The main problem was that he had no chance to investigate while he was working and that there would be no sabotage when he was studying under Edgar. The solution was simple, ask the merchant if he could swap days.

Edgar immediately agreed and promptly gifted the Overseer a small little pouch filled with shiny round objects. The Overseer was so touched by the gift that he allowed Sturm to study on the second day and work on the third day for the week.

It was early in the morning. Today was the day Sturm would smoke out a vermin, and to do so, he had to act like it was a typical day in the quarry. He lined up in front of the wooden palisade, entered the quarry, and started transporting the debris. However, shortly before the time to eat, Sturm set down his buckets next to the cart and hid nearby.

<<I am working on my day off. This better works out, or I will get furious.>>

The perpetrator did not disappoint. In the middle of Sturm's usual lunchtime, a slave approached stealthily. The slave made sure to stay in the shadows and crouched towards the cart. Strangely, no slavers were around, even though other slave groups were still working nearby. Sturm could not quite make out who it was, and when the slave crawled under the cart and pulled in both of his buckets, not even his feet could be seen anymore.

Sturm smirked. Ha, Game Over.

There was just one last thing to do. Pass out punishment. Sturm approached the cart from the side the slave went under. Taking a look beneath, he soon saw two dirty feet greeting him. Sturm grabbed one of the ankles and pulled hard.

*Bang*

"OUCH!"

The moment Sturm had grabbed his ankle, the slave hit his head in fright. Scared out of his mind, he did not even try to take a look at who pulled him out and instead immediately tried to run away. To no avail, there were still five small fingers clasping his feet.

"Don't even try to run, buddy. Your feet are chained, and mine are not. You would not get far anyways."

Time was of the essence now. It was just a matter of time before the first slavers would return, and Sturm wanted to personally thank the slave before they did. The slave finally gathered enough courage to turn around, but the first thing he saw was a fist filling out his vision.

*BAM*

The slave's head flew back, but before he could hit the ground, the rags on his body were pulled.

*BAM*

This time there was no pull, and the hot ground welcomed a new friend. Both of the slave's eyes were purple, but he was still conscious. Sturm took a better look at his prey and was astonished by who it was. It was not Crawler who had tampered with things but the slightly fitter slave he had already discarded as a suspect.

Pissed, Sturm knelt with one knee on the slave's chest. "What I did to you just now is called 'The Racoon.' I hope you like it. I do not know why you thought Edgar would accept you if I met an untimely end, but he is not fond of dirty little rats. If you had simply approached me, maybe I would have put in a good word for you, but now… let us see which number we will reach until the slave drivers arrive."

"I am sorry! I had no choice. Please spare…" The slave begged, terrified by the murderous aura and the menacing voice coming from an innocent-looking eight-year-old. This was no child. This was a demon.

*Crack* "One."

"Ahhhh!!!"

*Crack* "Two."

Sturm felt disgusted at himself, but he had no choice. Had one of the sabotages been successful, he would very likely have been whipped again. It would have been no surprise if he lost his life had it come to that. In the end, it was everyone for himself. The slave had tried to seize an opportunity to improve his life, and Sturm defended his privilege. There was no right or wrong, just a winner and a loser.

Before the count could go to three, the painful screams had already attracted plenty of slavers with their whips ready. Sturm quickly explained the situation, but that did not seem to stop the furious slave drivers. Only when the boy mentioned the Overseer did they control themselves.

The whimpering slave got dragged away. His wails echoed through the quarry, and somehow the nearby slaves began to work just a little bit faster. Sturm got escorted to the merchant, who promptly gifted the responsible guards some more shiny objects. Their sights at Sturm improved from absolute disgust to simple repulsiveness.

"So, it seems you caught the culprit? I heard you "raccooned" him and broke two of his fingers as well. While I do not condone torture, you did well by setting an example." Edgar praised.

"Hahaha! 'Raccooned' don't mind me if I use that one as well, boy," Reinhardt laughed.

"Yes, even though all of his attempts were terrible, at least I do not have to worry about any future disruptions anymore."

"I agree, and as you are without distraction now, you will be able to study twice as hard, will you not?"

<<Oh, no. What did I do?>>

The evil grin the merchant was showing made Sturm question his decision. It made no sense. A few weeks prior, the merchant did not even know about the attempted sabotages. How was that a justification for suddenly increasing his study load?

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Sturm responded. "What will happen to the slave, though? While he seemed to be in better shape than others, I still cannot imagine he will have it easy with two broken fingers."

Edgar looked at Sturm with worried eyes. Currently, the Overseer would even punish slavers if he caught them disrupting the slave workers. It was not hard to imagine what a puny slave would have to endure. Being worked to death would be salvation in face of the other options. Torturing someone was mentally scarring enough, not mentioning that Sturm already seemed plenty disturbed.

Just because Sturm was quite mature for his age, that did not mean Edgar should burden him with the remorse of being responsible for someone's death.

"He will probably be at the healer for some time. Let us just hope he learned his lesson," Edgar lied.

Relieved, Sturm sat down and resumed his studies.. It was not that he completely believed the merchant, but it was what he wanted to believe.