" I need you to trust me," He said. to the group gathered around him. It was difficult, but he had managed to explain the magnitude of what they were going to do.

Huddled together they stood shoulder to shoulder in the cramped and forgotten servents bedroom. The only thing resembling the servents quarters where 

"I'm not allowed to say anything relatively near the truth, so you all just have to trust me. Focus on your assigned job, and everything is going to be okay. We're doing this for a reason !" he stated firmly.

"And ... We don't know the reason, " Scarlet drawled out. her eyes sharp with annoyance. "You can count on us to do what you say really, but ..." she let the sentence drop.

In the distance, a trumpet flared, signalling the return of the hunting party. And shoving the children into action.

"Move !" He whispered as they ran to their jobs.

the scraping of shoes on the white marbled floors and the resolute sound of the door closing behind the children was the only sound for a few minutes. 

***
Aohdan stood near the front of the line, which greeted the party. He gently removed saddles from horses and led them into the stables for the stable hands to get settled. He then dashed back to his waiting position after most of the crush of horses had been dispersed. The royal guard emerged from the massive keep doors and made their way towards Lord Fersugil.

Lord Fersugil's grin made him shiver. It wasn't nice, and it hinted at something sinister.

"Your Highness, I hope you had a good morning! We "He gestured to what was left of his party " have had a very pleasant one, and we have enough of a catch for everyone tonight in the hall. It will be a feast - in honour of our guests, of course. I hope you'll be able to join us? " He snickered at the end pointing looking down at the King's leg as if to remind the onlookers that the king had not come because of an injured leg which at the moment looked nothing of the sort.

"Of course" was the only curt reply Lord Fersugil received.

With a flourish of the Kings cloak, he disappeared back into the keep with a promise to attend the feast.

Lord Fersugils eyes swept over the ensembles, focusing steadily on me. It was painful, to say the least. "You, boy, go tell the oldest children to meat me at the training grounds" He smiled, cruel and calculating "I think we tired hunters could enjoy some time to wind down and watch some entertainment".

I shivered, I would have liked to say it was the cold wind, but many would have known that, really - I was just afraid. I tilted my head up to look past his shoulder and replied In the most steady voice possible " Yes, my lord."

"Wait! " his voice echoed in the silence that followed in the wake of his announcement. My heart beat an erratic tune in my chest writhing in agony and fear" Bring yourself along as well and another."

I shook. This is my purpose I repeated the mantra dedicatedly. I would see this done...
***
The chambers bellow the keep were cold, wet stone had allowed a formation of moss to collect at its edges, and a constant rotting odour permitted the atmosphere.

Flickering yellow torches flanked the sides of the walls, casting the space in only semi-darkness. Shadows flickered in the 

Many of the nobles and some higher warriors followed Lord Fersugil as he purposefully strode towards the grand Oak doors covered in a fine layer of gold and red blazing runes so the door sparkled like the night sky during a blood moon.

The children followed, heads bent, and shoulders hunched in fear for many remembered what was to come.

Lord Fursugil pushed open the doors using a knocker shaped as a snake and continued to a raised seat at the front of the circular rooms. Dozens of seats marred the crimson and brown sand. In the middle of a lowered platform, free of disruption lay untouched by the glee of the arriving party.

Baron Drain, a large man with a bulging stomach, greasy hair, and eyes bood shot, smiled. Pearl white, small, and perfectly square teeth gazed back. He motioned for the children to come forward.

A needle in his hand and a pot of ink on the other.

***
Aodhan's hands shook in anticipation.

He knew what he was doing was important. The needle was the other option.

The flint shook uncomfortably in his hands. The lamp a small distance away once the scrap of oiled cloth caught flame. Careful not to burn his fingers, he threw it into the lamp, which instantly lit the lamp from the inside out. Whispering the word he had been taught - ' musca, flammula, fiy. Usque ad sororem tuam et deduc illam domum' - the previously yellow flame grew blue fading from the inside out before burning brighter. Shadows flickered along the walls. 9 in total, a lamp with an identical blue flame at the front of the new group.

Aodhan placed a finger on his lips, a silent command for silence.
Together, they crept along the edges of the arena as more men trickled in.

Aodhan left the group soon after leaving the alcove where they had arrived.

Baron Drian lifted his needle from the pot black ink glinting at the tip, posed to strike. Scarlet, before him struglled furiously in the grip of two tall and thin men beside her. Her head was forced down, barring her neck top the needle. As the first lines were drawn through a series of sharp jabs, she started to lose her strength by the second line of the rune Aodhan knew he couldn't watch them do that to her with such concentrated liquid. His hands reached for some sand , mixing it with some water he had found collecting at a small incline at the stone in the corner of the platform.

He cupped the semi-liquid in his hands and gestured for the Pug the boy next to him to make a distraction, glad to have a job the boy bounced away curly black hair bouncing with every hurries step which tried to be silent. With as much as force as he dared, Pug picked up a large rock chipped from some long gone entity of stones, with a might jump he threw them as far as his small arms would propel.

The echoing clang rang through the chanting of the crowd and quickly silenced them. While eyes where turned towards the noise Aodhan ran through the assembled children darting to where the pot was placed beside the Baron whose right hand maneuvered the girl and the other the needle, quickly he tossed the sand mixture into the ink and made a desperate escape.

He was panting erratically as he ran through the assembled children, settling himself a good distance between the front but not as far as he had hoped for.

Lord Fersugil's command rang as clear as the stone as he instructed two warriors to check the area and report back. The silence did not ease until the warriors came back to make their report. Meanwhile, Baron Drien watched the port intently, his eyes closed briefly as he took a deep breath in.

His eyes stopped open. Gazing directly at Aodhan, he pointed a meaty finger at the boy and beckoned him closer with a cruel grin.

"I bore of this one, we will enjoy the sport more with that one" He finished by shoving Scarlet away so she landed with a thump on the hard dirt and the pair of men who restrained the girl moved deeper into the crown to reach Aodhan.

Ahodans forehead grew damp with sweat, his breathing more heavy as his limbs disagreed with the direction the men were pushing him.

Stumbling over his feet, he made slow progression through the children who parted like the peasants did to a noble. Eyes sad and resigned they started at him. The oldest knew what the younger boy had done and gave him a firm nod silently thanking and at the same time berating him for the pain he would now endure.

Aodhan began to thrash, his senses finally begging to work as fear built in him like a wave.

His head was forcefully pushed down, and a great surging wave of power hit him. Filling his core and warming him from the inside in a white glow, only he could notice as the needle began to make its way through his skin.

Black ink slowly formed a pattern, and incantation followed not behind. 'domare spiritum intus insidentem cedere entitatis dominantis'.

Aodhan grew rigid. His posture stiff. Fists clenching and unclenching as his soul fought for its place. He lifted his head.

A glazed expression painted his face. Pale and wax skin contrasting to the now grey irises as they stared dispassionately in front of him.

Unseeing.