The march was an erratic chorus of laughter and silence. It was a mismatch between the unruly glee of the raiders and the despondent gloom of the prisoners. The undisturbed night was filled with laughter and jests ruling over the subdued beats of steady footsteps and bodies dragging over the dirt. It was a song that was heard all over the kingdom, no doubt being sung also in another place at this very moment. However, despite its normalcy, it always reinvigorated the victors and oppressed the defeated.

There was only one exception in this crowd that felt neither, even though every unique beat and layered sound could be heard distinctively and clearly. There was no elation to be found in the cheers and it certainly did not alleviate her melancholy. There was also no oppression to her mind and her steps remained strong and without weakness. There was only irritation, a contained wrath waiting to be unleashed.

Rana had to steady herself. She was never the type of person to let her emotions dictate her actions. She knew that reckless abandon only led to an early grave. There had to be a compelling reason behind every decision made, and a decision without forethought was like walking through a hallway full of traps with nothing but a blindfold. It led to failure, and the occasional success was nothing but a stroke of luck. No one would attribute the success of a random string of decisions made without consideration to the blindfold. It was just as how it was described as. It was random.

However, she was surprised at the anger within her. When in life, she was always stoic and viewed reality with cold indifference. That was the truth of the world, it was what it was, an unshakable certainty that did not care for anything but maintaining its absoluteness. That was why she did not understand the feeling within. It was contradictory, a zombie that could feel anger, a cold and indifferent inquisitor that burned with subdued rage.

Rana did not remember any experience of anger in life. The closest memory was one of when she was a child. Her sister did something and she somehow felt the need to thrash about. There was something threatening to burst out of her chest and it suffocated her. She wanted that feeling to be gone and would do anything to be rid of it. That was the only memory of her crying. Yet this was different. It was not like her body had an unreasonable emotion that looked for an outlet. It was not a mysterious rawness that constricted her. It was in her mind and it was as clear as the crimson moon and shattered stars hiding behind the veil of blue above. It was something she commanded and something she could see to fruition.

The time, however, was not now.

Rana stole a glance to the side. When everybody in the line was either staring at the ground or having their face dragged through the dirt, she could not make any obvious movements carelessly. She saw Jessica tied to a rope held by a raider on a horse. Her hands were bound and her steps were burdened with the weight of her injuries. The light in the once spirited eyes were no more. It were the eyes of someone who was defeated, someone who gave up, and someone who wished to be claimed by death. When Rana was still alive, she usually granted these requests. She too believed that death was mercy at one point. However, she now knew that nothing was worse than death.

Jessica slumped to her knees. The raider scoffed and tugged on the rope violently, pulling her to the ground. Her breathing was faint, and the injuries were stacking up. The girl would soon die without treatment. The raider clicked his tongue and began to command his horse, no doubt wanting to inflict more pain to the dying marked one by having her being dragged through the floor in high speeds.

Was there a reason to save Jessica? Rana could come up with any reasons, but were any of them even worth considering? She and Jessica just met for not even a day, they had no close bonds nor did she owe the girl anything. Was there even a bond that was worth the risk? Her sister stabbed her through the heart and they were blood and their souls were linked. There was nothing closer yet one still betrayed the other. Still, for the few short moments they talked she knew Jessica was a marked one that held true to the conviction of the mark. The girl wanted to do good and that was why power sought her. The girl received power and upheld the responsibilities that came with it. That was still not enough. What if Jessica was a marked one worth their mark? There were innocents and good people dying all over the kingdom. They were weak against those with an evil heart and weakness could not triumph against evil. The girl was but one of them.

Jessica was also right in front of Rana.

Rana knew she did not go out of her way to rid the world of evil. She was an inquisitor with a clear limitation and an even clearer duty. She was not tasked to save the world. She was tasked to eliminate those that corrupt the truth. She hunted those who had their hearts fallen to evil, and every one of them on her path was eliminated. She did not seek all of them, but when they met her they all would die. She saved the innocent, but that was a byproduct of her conviction. She would discard them in an instant if it meant that evil would be stopped. Yet wouldn’t that also mean she allowed some form of evil to escape her judgment for the greater good? When she was serving the Church, it was an easy distinction. The Church was the truth therefore their creed should be upheld no matter the cost. Now, however, where was the truth that measured the greater good? Rana didn’t know.

Then, there was only one reason for her to step in.

“Let me help her,” Rana said. The raiders looked at her, their bewilderment at someone daring to speak up quickly turned into anger. The only reason they did not lash out instantly was that they were most likely contemplating how to extract the most pain from the dissenter. The other prisoners shuddered in silence, but she could feel their anger towards her. They feared the wrath she had incurred would spill over to them. Jessica, on the other hand, was on the ground and struggled to turn her face towards Rana. The girl’s eyes pleaded for Rana to stop, that it was not worth it. To think Jessica still cared about the people she protected. “A marked one is worth far more than a normal person. If you allowed her to die, you have then forfeited the greatest prize of the raid. Do you truly think your captain would let such a blunder go unpunished?”

Rana could tell she had the attention of the raiders. Now came the important part. Their anger towards her unruliness was kept in check by the fear of their captain and the weight of her suggestion. The issue was that human emotions could not be accurately gauged. The whim and irrationality of people were as erratic as the waves in supposedly calm waters. However, there was one aspect of the human mind that was as easily exploitable as fear and anger.

“I am a wandering merchant looking to sell my wares in the city. If you allow me to help my friend here, I will tell you where I hid my wares. If you are lucky, you can bring even a greater prize back to your captain, maybe take some in the process for your troubles, and I have no doubt your rewards will be even greater.”

“How do I even know if you are telling the truth?”

“I am a prisoner. I have nowhere to go and if my words were lies I have no doubt what awaits me is a fate far cruller than death,” Rana said. To even reply with the idea of death being not the worst fate somehow brought a sickening in her stomach she needed to repress. “The only thing I ask in return if for you to allow me to carry my friend there. You lose nothing and expend no effort for your troubles.”

“Why do you even care about this piece of filth, and what is stopping me from silencing you the moment you served your purpose? This smells like a lot of dung,” the raider said after dismissing some of his crew, telling them he would catch up. Rana had no doubt she already won the argument. It did not require much to incite the greedy and cowardly into action. All it took was letting them hear what they wanted to hear.

“She is a friend. She helped me and I am now helping her in turn,” Rana said. She knew she was lying, but to who she did not know. “I am also wanting to increase my value as a prisoner. We merchants are opportunists, and there is no way I am going to let myself be treated like a common prisoner. Let me bring my friend here to your camp, and I will tell you where my wares are.”

“Tell me now, or I slit your throat.”

“Are you sure? I have no doubt other prisoners have already heard our conversation. The whispers of what they heard would travel and be part of whatever interrogation your leaders had planned. If you kill me, I wonder if you can silence the whispers of you throwing away potential loot for your leaders. To stop this information would require you to kill everyone here, including your underlings. However, what would happen if your leaders learn of you losing that many prisoners, and can you guarantee none of your underlings would tattle on you to gain favour of their own?”

Rana took a step forward. The raiders did not stop her.

“Let me help my friend here to your camp. If I lied or am of no use, you can kill me then. You still get your prisoners and the marked one to their destination.”

The raider leader relented. He made some threats he could not keep and ridiculed her, but it was of no consequences. She hurried to Jessica and brought the wounded marked one up by lending her shoulders.

“Why,” Jessica said but Rana quickly shushed her. The girl blinked away her dry tears and whispered a silent thank you.

“Just walk.”

Rana trekked in silence while aiding Jessica as the raiders resumed their march. She did not deserve the thanks. This was another play to get to her goal. There was no room for compassion, there could be no room for compassion in her heart. She simply needed this to happen so that she could get what she wanted.