2 Thirteen

Just beyond the town of Beckton, to the northeast, a large property belonging to the Clarke estate can be found. Just within the owned lands of that estate are a few guest houses, one mansion, a sprawling forest, and even a few patches of farmland. The entire border of the land is marked by a low wooden fence with just one wide paved road winding through the dense woods to the property.

One might think the place intimidating, secluded as it was, but in truth, it was quite beautiful, said even to be the home of a powerful cultivator, an adviser to Count Beckton.

Behind the main estate, in an open area of bare earth, the orphan belonging to the village of Rehall could be found sitting in a strange new posture. He found it similar to sitting with one's legs crossed like headmistress Helga required of the boys, but harder and more uncomfortable. His feet were both atop his thighs and he struggled to keep them there.

Surrounding him were more children than the boy had ever seen. Over 40 of them of varying ages, each in the same position. A variety of adults stood around the perimeter of the children, most of which looked healthy and strong, aside from one man near the front who looked healthy and yet oddly thin, as if he'd never done a day's work. The boy didn't understand why the man looked so, but he soon lost interest and returned his attention to the speaker.

The child had been living in this place for a few days now, basically locked in a small bedroom barely larger than a closet. In those few days, whenever he wasn't eating one of three meals brought to his door each day, he was crying and thinking of home. Even now his eyes were still somewhat red. He hadn't been allowed to leave the room, nor had he seen his new mum and dad, or any of these children before.

Now, allowed out of his room for the first time, and sitting among all these children, the idea dawned on the boy that perhaps he didn't have a new mum and dad.

The Adult speaking to them now was a tall and lean man with a trained figure, dressed in a loose white tunic and long brown pants. By his side, he had both a metal and wooden sword strapped to his waist. He had introduced himself as Head Instructor Nicholas.

The boy had missed whatever else was said during the introduction, as he lost himself in thought wondering about the healthy thin man and the others. However as his attention returned, he caught the Head Instructor looking directly at him, aware of his wandering attention.

Caught embarrassed, the boy looked down while Nicholas continued.

"I'm aware that each of you come from the many different towns, cities, and even villages of Demia, however from this moment forth I will hear nothing of it. Forget your false names and put your past behind you. From this day onwards you are what I call you, and you do what I tell you. This will be your home, and training will be your duty, hobby, and responsibility, from this moment until your coming of age. You are not guests, you are not masters, you are both servants and students until you can prove otherwise."

The boy didn't understand what Nicholas was saying, how could he just forget his name?

He didn't have time to question though, as soon the Head Instructor approached one of the children in the first row.

"What is your name?"

"Mile-" the scruffy boy started.

"Wrong! What is your name?"

"I said its-"

"You have no name! You are number 8-01 until I say otherwise!" The Instructor interrupted.

The bullied child in the first row couldn't have been more than 10 and seemed on the verge of tears, but Nicholas simply moved to the next and repeated the exchange before dubbing the child No. 8-02.

This continued for quite some time until the Head Instructor approached the boy of Rehan. Having caught on from the exchanges with the other children, the boy copied the correct answer from those before him.

"I have no name."

"Of course not! You are No. 8-13. Now, where are you from No. 8-13?"

The other kids who answered correctly were asked this one too, he knew the answer. Nowhere. But... thoughts of the orphanage, of headmistress Helga, and his few friends came to mind. Biting his lip in tears, Thirteen replied "I'm from Rehall!".

*SLAP*

Thirteen found himself looking at the boy to his right, his left cheek stinging.

"Wrong! 8-13 you are from nowhere, you have never been outside these walls in your life, understand?"

Thirteen places a hand on his cheek as he looked up at Nicholas. The head instructor didn't have the demonic, hateful visage that the child expected, instead, a cold expression and reprimanding eyes met his.

"...I understand"

And so, Nicholas moved on.

As he watched the Head Instructor repeat this exchange, again and again, saying the same words no matter the child, Thirteen was struck with an incredible sense of longing for home, and for that thin wheat soup that Helga would sometimes sneak bits of meat into. He really missed her doting attitude and kind smile.

Having once more drifted off into thought, Thirteen was surprised when all the surrounding children started standing one after another.

Jumping to his feet, Thirteen looked around to see one of the other adults who had surrounded the group before was now leading them all away from the open area. Nicholas stayed where he was repeating his order a few times "Follow Piers there to the dorms! Everyone up! Follow Piers to the dorms!"

Following the group, Thirteen wondered why there were dorms. Would they not be staying in the small rooms?

As he kept thinking, the children began talking to each other in hushed voices, a group of four approaching children came up to Thirteen.

"Hey, umm... thirteen right? I'm 8-4 and these are 8-10 and 8-9"

"Hi" "..Hello"

The child that spoke first, 8-4, was a boy quite a bit taller than Thirteen with a stocky appearance. He was likely aged around seven years old. 8-9 and 8-10 however were a 6 and 5 year old boy and girl respectively. 8-10, the girl had short black hair ending a bit below her jaw line and seemed outgoing, while 8-9 was even scrawnier than Thirteen and seemed rather shy, hiding beneath a fringe.

Thirteen was glad for the company and introduced himself with his "number" as well. As they each opened up to each other, Four asked "So what kind of place is Rehall? Is it fun?".

Thirteen immediately relaxed somewhat at the prospect of bragging about his home and his friends, but by coincidence alone he caught the gaze being trained on him by the man named Piers who led the group with his head turned.

"I.. umm... Don't know. I've never been there."

The three were stumped for a moment before realizing what he meant.

"A-AH! Y-yeah! of course."

A strange silence filled the vicinity of their group as Piers turned back to the front and continued leading them to the dorms.

By the time the group had reached the main estate, Piers had led them to the eastern wing. The building itself was huge, larger than any Thirteen had seen before. In fact, it was so large that Thirteen first thought a giant or a whole town must live within.

The interior of the left wing had none of the valuable paintings and golden statues that he fantasized about, instead, the interior was simple, impeccably clean, with wooden floors and walls.

Soon enough, Instructor Piers began assigning pairs to the different rooms. Thirteen didn't know whether he liked the idea of sharing a large room with others or having his own room for once, even if his own room was that closet-sized one he'd slept in for the past few days.

Soon that thought mattered not as he was assigned a room together with 8-9 whom he had met earlier. It wasn't as large as he expected given the size of the building as a whole. But it was very clean and certainly large in Thirteen's eyes. Thirteen was amazed to find his own wardrobe completely filled with clothes his size. They were simple tunics and pants that most wouldn't find anything special, but to Thirteen who had never had more than two patched up pairs of clothing to his name, it was a gift indeed.

Within the room were two beds, each fitted with blankets softer than those of the orphanage or the small room he had stayed in prior. As his eyes met those of 8-9, the two boys each confirmed the shock and glee in each other's gaze.

It was 8-9 who spoke first.

"W-well, I guess we will be sharing a room for a while. I suppose you can call me Nine... right?"

Thirteen was a bit taken aback as he realized it was truly a question, and responded.

"Right... Nine. You can call me Thirteen then".

Following the somewhat awkward introduction, the two got started familiarizing themselves with the room. Aside from the bed and wardrobe each, there was also a small desk each with a glass bottle filled with black liquid and a feather.

Thirteen had seen the village head use something similar before, only his wasn't nearly as nice looking, nor was his black liquid held in glass. Thirteen was pretty sure it was valuable because the village head got really mad at him when he and his friends dipped their fingers in there to doodle. It should be used to make letters, Thirteen thought.

After inspecting the room for a while, the two boys began talking excitedly. Thirteen was glad to have someone his age to speak with given the circumstances, but they both grew silent quite often while trying not to mention their past homes.

This continued for half an hour until a man's voice echoed down the hall in perfect clarity.

"Eighth Group, you have 3 minutes to make your way to the southern end of the hall. The late will be punished."

It was said in a monotonous, bland tone, but neither Nine nor Thirteen dared ignore it as they each jumped off their beds and made their way down the hallway.