Death, Devotion, Dissonance

Chapter 2 - Evin And The Voice

Evin scrubbed at the last bits of oil stuck inside the tall metal container in his father's workshop, sniffing occasionally. The cold and wet kitchen cloth would send pangs of sharp pain through his nerves, a fact which irked him constantly and ceaselessly.

'Come on! Just come off already!' he complained in his head, as he scrubbed at the final shard of oil harder and faster. This was his dozenth fight against the thing. Finally, the thing fell off, making a small ting inside the pot. Evin sighed with satisfaction, and pulled himself out of the giant pot.

He did the same act once every few months, when his father decided to change the oil he used to quench his metals.

Evin sighed tiredly, finally done with this task which ended up taking him his entire morning to finish. He wiped the sweat off his slightly tanned forehead and scratched his messy hair furiously to refresh his head somewhat. But right after he was finished, his father's voice called out to him.

"If you're done with that, go and wash the dishes in the kitchen."

It was something he did every day without complaints, but today, the order vexed him to no end. Maybe it was the cold piece of cloth in his hands, maybe it was the fact that his nose was slightly clogged. Whatever it was, it almost pushed Evin to snap back without regard for the consequences. But of course, he wasn't going to snap back in reality. The only thing he could do was to say nothing.

Silence. The only form of resistance he could show towards his father. But… it seemed that that too wasn't going to last long, as his father's stern command echoed across the house.

"Come over here."

<He-he,> a mocking voice appeared in his head.

Dropping the wet cloth to the floor, Evin slowly waddled over.

"Hurry!" his father ordered, and Evin walked faster.

Evin's father was a man with a huge, frightening appearance – legs as thick as logs, a hand the size of Evin's torso, and a grizzled face with a burn scar under his eyes. Well, it was expected, as he was a blacksmith by profession and worked with many heavy-duty items.

The man looked at Evin dead in the eye and asked, alcohol reeking from his breath,

"What are you supposed to say when I tell you to do something?"

"Say 'Yes, sir'…" Evin murmured.

"And what did you just do now?"

"I said nothing…" Evin whimpered.

The next moment, Evin fell to the ground with a thud, feeling a sharp sting from his cheeks. He quickly grabbed at it, hoping to forget the pain enough so he didn't start crying.

"Little shit… can't even take a slap on his feet," his father cursed, as he picked Evin up, "I'll let you off with that, since we're going to be visiting those fucking mages today. Now do what I told you."

"Yes, sir…" holding the tears back from his eyes, Evin picked up the wet cloth from the floor and dragged himself towards the kitchen.

<He-he, I keep telling you to just do as that animal says. Just acknowledge his orders. It's not like it's going to help, well, in any meaningful way at least. Or do you just like getting beaten by him?> the voice in his head said mockingly.

"Shut up…" Evin whispered in the smallest voice he could, careful not to let his father hear the remark. But alas, today really wasn't his day.

"Did you speak to that voice again, you freak?" his father shouted at him, "If I hear you talking to yourself like a lunatic again, I swear to the Empress, I'll beat you till you're actually insane, understand?"

Evin could only nod silently and hurry towards his next task.

"I won't let a lunatic live in my house, you get it? You either fix your head, or find yourself a new house to live in," his father shouted from behind.

Entering the kitchen, Evin closed the door behind him, and put the wet, oily cloth to his cheeks. The pulsating pain seemed to die out a little as he groaned softly and sat down on the ground.

<He-he, you're such an idiotic child. Are you so stupid that you can't understand these two simple rules?>

"Shut up."

<Act like daddy's good little dog, that's rule number one. A fairly simple one, really. I must admit I have a hard time understanding why you fail so spectacularly at this one.>

"Shut up."

<And don't acknowledge my existence. That's rule number two,> the voice cackled in delight, <So simple. Just believe the convenient lie that everyone else is telling you! I don't exist, even though I'm speaking to you right this instant! You could swear on the Empress' name that you're not just hallucinating, but since no one else can hear me, I must not exist! I mean, what other conclusion is there left to draw? That's the only plausible explanation for it!>

"Shut up. If you're going crazy, do it somewhere out of my head."

<No! I'm not going crazy. I'm just telling you the truth…> the voice paused. <Well, whatever. I'll let you have your peace, since you're going to be visiting the mages today. Go praise the Empress for granting us magic and praise king Roland Arcwall for helping you peasants.>

Evin sighed and started scrubbing the dishes.

'Thankfully, the pain on my cheek is almost gone,' he was thinking... before the voice started ranting about a random topic again.

<You know, I'm really curious about how magic works. As a man of science myself, the thought of affecting the nature through our voice and willpower really doesn't sit well with me. But, like some great man said, most of what we use today daily will look like magic to the common man a thousand years ago. Maybe magic is a form of science, and unenlightened people like us don't really understand it that well. So, I need you to be a mage so I can understand these things better, alright?>

"Shut. Up." Evin said again, not bothering to hide his annoyance and disgust at the voice.

<Tch. I wish you had the guts to say that to your father.>

Thankfully, the voice was obedient enough to stay silent after the snark remark. A rare joy indeed. Feeling content that the voice was listening to his words for once, Evin focused on the dishes.

But as his hands scrubbed the grease and stains off the metal kitchenware, his mind wandered off, thinking of random things, one of them being his visit to the mages in the afternoon.

Due to the Mage Acceptance Law that the late king Roland Arcwall created, after a child reached the age of 10, they needed to give a visit to the Mage Circle on the last day of a month. That day was was today, and coincidentally, it was also Evin's birthday.

In the Mage Circle, the children would take the test on whether they could cast magic or not, regardless of their origins or citizenship grades. Not even speaking of 2nd grade citizens like Evin, even the children of 4th grade citizens (which were mostly slaves and criminals) received this privilege.

'If I turn out to be a mage… I'm sure I'll be able to leave my father and then finally, I'll be able to find a method to get rid of this accursed voice inside my head,' Evin thought wistfully, 'Then I'll truly be free. Then I'll become someone who is loved by others and respected by all...'

Visions appeared in Evin's eyes. Him flying around the air like birds and forcing the elements to bend to his will. A set of silver armor, just like the one that the late king wore, seemed to materialize on his body, as he imagined himself looking backwards to see a row of people walking behind him... people that loved and respected him. A mage above the ordinary commoners.

A moment later, Evin shook his head.

'No. Although it's nice to dream about it all, it's best if I don't get my hopes up. And besides, the truth will be revealed soon enough, anyway,' Evin thought, and soon realized that he'd finished washing the dishes at some point.

<Listen, don't go crazy and kill yourself if you're not a mage, alright? I know it's sad to live on like this, but I'm sure we'll manage somehow,> the voice said suddenly.

Evin could only shake his head at the random remark. It was best to just ignore it. Nothing good ever came out of Evin interacting with the voice.

He sighed and went to his room to get dressed. It wasn't a hard task, as he had only four sets of clothes, two of them too big for him, and two of them too small for him. He picked the better of the two big ones and went to his father.

"I'll go wash in the river and come back."

His father eyed him with a mix of disappointment and displeasure, before pushing himself off the chair with a burp.

"Don't bother. No point in looking good in front of those freaks of nature."

…