Forty-one

At least they hadn't lied when they had told us that we were going to be provided with everything we could possibly need to live comfortably.

The room that I now called my own was spacious and fully furnished. Naturally, everything inside it was of high quality, but two things had far exceeded my expectations. The first of them was a big window. Unlike most of the windows, which were made out of many small pieces of glass held together by an extensive lead frame, this one had only four nearly transparent sheets of glass. It was probably the famous Firoan glass, known for its transparency, size, and price. The second thing was lying on the floor, a luxurious rug made out of softened blood beast fur. Just those two items were enough to empty a minor noble's purse, and that wasn't all this room had to offer. A comfortable four-poster bed, an entire wardrobe filled with spare uniforms and other high-quality clothing articles, elegant cabinets containing undergarments and various items necessary in daily-life, a mahogany desk on which were placed writing utensils, a sturdy metal chest with a lock, a bookcase full of expensive tomes, and more. I would definitely enjoy living here if not for the fact that those bastards had messed with my head... well, I was still going to enjoy this place, which was probably the empire's way of softening the blow connected with memory manipulation.

I already knew that the situation was bad. Actually, it was so bad that I had almost failed to realize what was truly wrong with it! The freshly injured back of my left hand's palm had been occupying most of my thoughts, and my guide had almost convinced me that some sacrifices were only natural since I had agreed to become a candidate for an imperial adjudicator. Only the unexplained fury that was smoldering inside me since the time I had left the entrance building had forced me to scrutinize the entire situation from a different angle. One question of 'why?' had led to another, and since I wasn't able to recall basic information about myself it hadn't taken long to find the most probable cause behind this feeling.

The empire was trying to turn me into a perfect adjudicator, and they had already made their first move.

After locking the door to the room, I lied down on the soft bed, careful not to allow the back of my left palm to touch anything. Now was a good time for a round of self-analysis. It was something that I had a lot of experience with, though I could hardly remember why. First thing I had to do, was to find as many blanks in my memory as possible and pinpoint the most damaged areas. However, if the empire had a tainted who was able to not only remove memories but also plant fake ones in their place… then I was imperially screwed. But if such were the case, then I wouldn't have had realized anything in the first place.

An hour of intensive thinking was enough to discover a lot. It wouldn't take even that long if not for the persistent throbbing pain.

Gone were the memories connected with my family, friends, goals, dreams, the place I came from, and probably some other things I wasn't aware of at the moment. On top of that, I couldn't remember my own name. However, that was it. After replaying a significant number of scenes from the past in my mind, I concluded that my current self would have behaved practically in the same way in nearly all of those situations, which meant that my personality should be mostly unchanged. The only worrisome difference was that I failed to understand the reason behind some of my more irrational actions, like that time when I had hired a tailor to make a bunch of peculiar frilly dresses and strangely long socks.

The method they had used to brainwash me was far from perfect, and I could easily bypass a part of it. For example, learning that I came from a noble family wasn't hard at all after taking into account my level of education and many of the remaining memories, such as the way random people had been treating me.

The kingdom I was born in shared a border with Helial Desert, in other words, it was either the kingdom of Verluna, Xertia or Holnest. But my skin wasn't tanned which ruled out the last possibility. After adding to it the memories of swimming in the Shielded Sea, talking with sailors from the Raven's Oligarchy, and the time I had spent on a boat before reaching Dove Island, I narrowed down the place of my birth to the south-eastern part of the kingdom of Verluna which was the domain of… someone.

I stood up and went towards the desk. I kind of hoped that among the writing utensils would be some graphite pens, but there were only inconvenient feather quills. Nevertheless, an empty sheet of paper quickly turned into a simple map of Verluna which was next divided into its individual territories. Then I began assigning each domain to a noble house until I got stuck.

It was strange that I was able to list all of the noble families above the rank of a baron inside that kingdom, and yet, I was unable to tell which one of them ruled over one particular area in its south-eastern part. It was also the only territory I didn't know the name of.

"Heh…" A satisfied smile appeared on my face, but it was quickly replaced with a frown. Despite discovering all this, the empire's goal had still been achieved. I didn't feel even a tiny bit of emotional connection to the place that was probably my home.

I shook my head and leaned against the desk. This train of thought was depressing, and there were other things I had to think about. It would also be nice if that throbbing pain in my hand had finally stopped.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do about the memories connected with particular people. For sure such people existed, a few of them were extremely important, not being able to remember them made me feel anxious, furious, and heartbroken, but that was everything I managed to recall. Surprisingly, the presence of those negative emotions actually made me feel better. As for trying to recreate my internal image of the people important to me, I decided against it. There was a big chance that the end result would be false and that I would confuse individual people with each other. This would end badly both for them and me, and I had this feeling that there was no need to do that in the first place, though I couldn't tell exactly why.

The last on the list of things I had forgotten were my goals and dreams. This area was the hardest one to pinpoint. I stumbled upon it after noticing that I had various memories of trying to gather allies and coin, but I didn't know what for. This, in turn, led to a series of questions about my life goals. After realizing that there weren't any, I finally deduced the primary objective of the first step of this whole indoctrination. After all, someone without any plans for the future was a much easier target to turn into a fanatical imperial adjudicator.

The smoldering fury within me was on the verge of erupting, but something was forcibly pushing it back. It wasn't a pleasant experience, yet I was fine with it since it felt kind of natural and allowed me to retain the clarity of mind.

So what if I had no goals and dreams? Making new ones was easy, and for sure becoming a puppet-like judge wasn't going to be included among them. Nevertheless, there was a big possibility that they would make me go through a more intensive round of brainwashing had they realized that the first one had the opposite effect. I didn't like it, I didn't like it all. Especially the part about being locked in here for a year. I had to focus on maintaining a low profile.

Any further speculations would only result in a headache, so I did a bit of light stretching connected with thinking about my next move. The sun was setting, but it wasn't dark yet, and the academy had a lot of vifer lamps. The number of servants required to saturate all those vifer cores had to be considerable, or those servants were elites with enormous reserves of radiance. Anyway, I decided to go out and take a look around. There should be forty-nine other candidates for imperial adjudicators here. I was wondering how they were coping with this situation, and I was looking forward to meeting my fellow inmates for the first time.

Stopping one step before the door, I raised my still hurting left hand and took a look at the back of its palm.

The number XLVIII was freshly burned on it.

"Almost like a slave. Tsk."

Obtaining this brand was the only memory I was glad to be gone.

Behind the door was a wide corridor along which were placed four other rooms similar to mine. Earlier, I had been too busy thinking about my lost memories and pain to pay it any attention, but each door had its own number. Starting from the left: L, XLIX, XLVIII, XLVII, XLVI. I sighed deeply after verifying that the number on my door was identical to the one on my hand.

Since there was no one on the second-floor corridor, and I didn't feel like knocking to someone's door only to find a confused mess of a human behind, I went downstairs. It would be nice to talk with someone who had more or less arranged his or her thoughts already.

The first person I found didn't fit this category at all.

On the dormitory's first floor stood a single small girl. It was my first chance to see the female version of the academy's uniform and I had to say that it was rather fancy, but still within the scope of something that a highborn would wear for everyday use. The uniform's centerpiece was a long dress, which color started crimson at the top and slowly got darker until it became black at the bottom. The dress wasn't overly complicated and ensured freedom of movements, at least in theory. The one worn by this girl was too big. Her hands drowned in the long sleeves, and a portion of the hem was being dragged on the floor. The long silk sash that should be worn only around her waist was wrapped around her entire torso, from the shoulders down to the hips, and it was probably the only thing that stopped this 'unique' creation from falling apart.

The girl's long white hair looked as if comb and gravity were foreign concepts to her. For some reason, I really wanted to throw her into a bath, arrange this hair full of potential into some great hairstyle, preferably twintails, and dress her properly, but I quickly got rid of this ridiculous idea.

"Hey there." I started since she was just standing still in front of the door with the number XLI on it.

She reacted to my voice and slowly turned around.

I involuntarily took a step back the moment I saw her face. It bore no visible wounds, but I recalled seeing such empty eyes and expression devoid of hope at various slave markets I had frequently visited. That wasn't the face of a kid who should be at most twelve. This girl's mind probably had more scars than a veteran legionnaire after years of blood beasts extermination. For some reason, the words 'this world is messed up in this matter' appeared inside my head.

"Hello." She said and turned her head questioningly to the side, probably wondering what I wanted from her.

This single word and gesture went against my first impression of her. I didn't expect her to reply at all, and for sure not in such an innocent manner. Was I mistaken and her mind hadn't been irreparably broken?

"Umm… did you lose your memories?" Not the best way to start a conversation, but I wanted to check something.

After hearing this question, she looked at me as if I helped to resolve the biggest problem of her life. This brief show of emotions gave me a lot to think about. Maybe it was still possible to teach this slave how to be human, or maybe her circumstances were not as bad as I had imagined.

"Yes, I think so."

"How much… no, nevermind." There was no point in satisfying my curiosity at her cost. "Do you have a number on your hand?" I switched the topic to something safer and showed her the brand on mine.

"Yes."

I waited for a minute, but that was her entire response.

"Can you show it to me?"

"Yes." She was about to mimic my previous movement and raise her left arm but realized that something had to be done with her oversized uniform first.

I had accidentally touched my fresh brand a few times, and it hurt like hell. And yet here she was, quickly rolling up the sleeve of her dress, her movements efficient but far from delicate. For a second I thought that maybe hers didn't hurt that much, but then I noticed that tears began forming in the corners of the girl's green eyes.

It was too late to say that she didn't have to show it to me, the burned wound in the shape of XLI was already visible. Just as I expected, it was the same number as the one on the door she was standing in front of.

"Forty-one, huh?"

"Yes."

The small girl's gaze was switching between my brand and hers, but she didn't move nor said anything else. For the next three minutes, we were standing in awkward silence until I decided that she was too much for me to handle. Some servant was probably going to take care of her later.

"That room is yours." I pointed at the door, and her gaze obediently followed in that direction. "All the items inside it are yours, you may do whatever you want with them, you may go in and out of that room whenever you want." I told her just in case. Even the loss of memories wasn't enough to remove the things that had been carved directly in someone's soul.

"Understood, but I don't understand." The girl seemed really confused by her own answer.

"Just remember my words and think about them hard."

"Yes, I will think hard." The candidate number forty-one replied in a slightly happy voice. That said, she remained standing in front of the door to her own room.

I wanted to turn around and walk away, but seeing that she was about to roll back her sleeve, I added: "And try to avoid touching that brand before it stops hurting."

The girl's hands stopped mid-motion, and she looked at me surprised. "Umm…" For some reason, she was lost for words.

"Don't worry, speak freely." I wanted to find someone more capable of normal conversation, but I could spare her a few more minutes of my time. Checking the ground floor could always be done later.

"... may you please tell me whose orders should I prioritize in this place? I can't remember…" She said in a tiny voice, as if afraid that someone was going to overhear her.

"Of course." I replied both to her and to myself. It seemed that 'the chain of command' was burned deeply into this girl's mind. "First of all is anyone who bears the seal or emblem of the imperial family, but I don't think that anyone other than the supreme judge will ever visit this place. Then the rest of the judges. You can recognize their importance by the color of their imperial adjudicator seals. If the burning scale is crimson, then you're dealing with a high judge, golden means judge, and silver is for junior judges. And that's it, you don't have to listen to anyone else. Our status as candidates for imperial adjudicators means that even the rulers of vassal states can't order us around, not to mention normal adjudicators."

"I… I understand, but… I don't understand. Are all imperial judges my masters? But what if two judges of the same standing give me opposing orders? Who should I prioritize in that case?" The white-haired girl was totally lost. Her question was logical, but she entirely missed my point. I bet that the fact that she had moved from the bottom of the social ladder to its top didn't register in her mind at all.

Though I wasn't much different. I still found it hard to believe that among millions of the empire's citizens there were less than two hundred people who were above us in status. No wonder that despite paying full attention to my every word the girl had troubles with digesting this information.

"Just remember, YOU ARE a candidate for an imperial adjudicator, and all candidates are equal. Don't listen to other candidates' orders, and don't listen to servants, and don't listen to soldiers. Got it?" I wanted her to take this part to heart. The chances that any of the imperial adjudicators would abuse this gullible girl were low, but the same couldn't be said about anyone else.

"I don't understand!" Her raised voice took me by surprise. "This order is contradictory. If I follow your order, then I can't follow your order… please tell me who's my master."

The petite white-haired girl was trembling from fear and confusion. An irrational urge to pat her messy hair until she calmed down appeared in my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. I had been slightly mistaken, this girl wasn't a simple slave. Her vocabulary, way of thinking, and most of all her presence in this place meant that her background was more complicated than that. I could provide her with an easy answer to her question, but it would mean having to take care of her from now on. I pitied her, but that was it, I had no reason, nor wanted to, to do anything more.

"You should go inside your room and rest." I told her.

After dodging her question and expectations, I turned around and started going down the stairs. A single look back was enough to ascertain that the girl's face had defaulted to the initial soulless state, almost as if all the emotions she had shown were nothing more than carefully crafted illusions.

In the middle of the stairs, I was attacked by a sudden and powerful wave of sleepiness. Unable to withstand it, I fell asleep in mid-step.

**********

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Damn it hurts!" Complained an average looking teenager who had irritated his fresh wound in the shape of XLVIII while trying to prevent himself from falling down the stairs. He continued to puff on it gently until the pain became somewhat bearable.

"Goddamn empire, I put so much love and care into Rexar's upbringing, and they dared to make him ignore a loli in distress, unforgivable. Simply unforgivable." He mumbled while going back to the first floor.

Still standing on the corridor was the white-haired girl. Just like before, she was facing the door to her room. Without any warning, Teacher walked to her and put his hand on top of her head. Her hair was sticky and stiff, but he continued to pat it gently while thinking how much more pleasant it would be for both of them if she took a bath.

"Hey there, still looking for a master?" He said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

The small girl slowly raised her head to look at the face of the person who she thought was going to assault her. To her unpleasant surprise, it was Forty-eight. A twinge of disappointment appeared on her face, out of the few people she saw in this place he had been the first one she previously judged to be a valid person to become her master. Forty-eight hadn't ignored her, hadn't openly showed disgust, had even given her some advice, and most of all, he hadn't tried to touch her.

Until now.

"No, I'm not."

She refused his offer and moved to maintain some distance between them.