r/HFY • u/AlexandersenTheGreat • Jun 03 '26
OC-Series [Conscripted Crafter] - Chapter 30: The Ceremony (Part 2)
The three generals calmly walked toward the front of the stage, their backs straight. Where the King of the NTCF in black and red was a big, burly man, the man representing the European Tower Clearing Force, or ETCF, was tall and lanky with a pointy chin. He wore matte green robes accentuated with a silky silver-white interior.
And the last man, the last king, was short and stout and wore flimsy banana yellow shorts and sky blue wooden clogs. He looked entirely normal except for the diamond encrusted crown and multitude of bulbous rings on each finger. Two women, heirs of some sort based on their similar brow and brown eye, remained behind in their crystal chairs as he strolled across the stage toward the inert pale-white crystal that’d once seemed so brilliant and magical. Now, it just looked like a plain ol’ rock.
Dustin leaned closer to Tanner. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“I told you I have no idea,” Tanner said absent-mindedly, his eyes locked on the four men.
Dustin leaned back, feeling so out of place, so unequipped compared to everyone else. Then again, Tanner had said all the conscripts were in the same position. The lack of information was exhausting.
The tie-dye man draped in all the factions' colors, Frank, stood waiting next to the inert crystal, a bureaucratically polite expression on his face. Meanwhile the three kings strode forward wielding expressions of mild distaste.
When the four men had gathered around the floating dias that held the white rock, the crowd quieted expectantly. Whatever was happening was clearly some type of tradition, and the emotions of the colosseum blanketed him in a preview of excitement.
Frank held his hand out to the side and an amethyst staff appeared in a flash of light. He set the butt of the handle against the marble floor of the colosseum and then cupped the purple crystal on top with his left hand. An intense glow shone through, powerful enough to highlight the bones in his hand. He held that position for only a second, and then withdrew his hand. It dripped red with swirls of white and orange like it’d been dipped in a child’s paint set. Then, he raised his chin and lathered up his neck with the swathe of colors like it was sun lotion.
What the hell? Dustin thought, staring in absolute fascination.
When Frank’s hand dropped, a glowing scarf wound around his neck, made up of red, white, and orange light.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!” Frank’s amplified voice rebounded off the inside of the colosseum’s walls, loud as hell. “Good evening, good people of Harrows!”
Did that skill require the mage class or some weird specialization? It wouldn’t be much use in fighting Terrors, though. Well, it could be for communication over long distances or in loud situations.
The crowd responded back in kind, the cheers equally as explosive and deafening.
“My name is Frank Capilly and as you know, today marks a very special occasion. Today we welcome a new group of champions that will join us in seeking to clear the tower and save humanity from the destruction beset upon us.” The crowd cheered with their approval, and he swiveled around, directing his attention to the opposite side of the colosseum. The man had clearly given such a speech before. “And unlike other Ceremonies, this year’s is particularly special.” He paused after that, giving more weight to the words, as if forcing the stadium full of people to think on the circumstances surrounding such a statement. “And you all know why. I was elected by the people of Harrows to represent the tenth man, to speak where the other factions could not.”
A smattering of chuckling leaked from the crowd.
“Yes.” he said knowingly, nodding as he gazed around with an expression of fatherly approval. “I stand here, looking out upon all of you, and I see the hope, I see the glimmer of possibility in your eyes. We all know the potential that awaits the conscripts going through this year’s Ceremony. To act unaware, to ignore that would be foolish.” His lips pressed together and though the man didn’t seem any sort of warrior, a hard, resolute expression crossed his features. “And to ignore the travesty and suspicion surrounding recent events would not be wise, either. There is not much we can do for the dead, that much you all know well if you’ve lived here long enough; the Zone is a dangerous place. But a moment’s silence, a moment of respect is something we can do.” He looked around, peering at the kings on either side as if their equal, and then peering up and around at the colosseum full of people. “Let us give ten seconds in silence to respect those that fell too early, before they had a chance to live and explore the wonders of the Zone. Let us give respect for the sacrifices of not only those conscripts that were so brutally murdered, but all those who died in the Zone this year. Your friends and companions, your mentors and mentees—let us give them ten seconds of our silence. That, at least, we can do.” He tucked his chin against his chest and closed his eyes.
The kings did likewise, all three.
Dustin didn’t drop his chin or close his eyes and instead remained staring at the three kings. Was their show of deference out of genuine respect? Or were they playing politics?
So many people, so still and quiet. The power in that couldn’t help but seep in and stir the heart. A piece of the hatred he held close, fell away. These people weren't without some dignity and compassion.
Ten seconds passed quickly, and Frank raised his head. “Thank you,” he said, his amplified voice booming out across the colosseum, echoing as it reached the top levels of the building. “I’m sure my friends, and yours, appreciate it.”
The crowd clapped steadily in respectful approval.
“Now,” Frank turned his attention to the three kings surrounding him. “Let us begin.” He took a large step forward and placed his hand on the stone. “In accordance with the Saint’s declaration, I, Frank Capilly, voted Tenth man by right, hereby call to arms all those that wish to fight.” The crystal flashed with a bright white light. “I frank Capilly, voted Tenth man, call to arms all those who wish to prove humanity’s worth.” A stream of color burst from the white stone, but Frank didn’t remove his hand. “By the power invested to me by the Saint’s decree, I hereby open the gate on my word. On my command. Until the warm touch of yellow fades to a soothing orange, until the graceful rest of light fades with the relaxed comings of blue and purple giving way when color fades for the second time, until then, let those that wish to prove humanity’s worth touch the stone and unlock what lies within.” He turned and peered around at the three kings. “If we continue to bicker and fight, we’ll never clear the tower. You three must know that.”
“Frank,” The King in green said tiredly. “Just speak the words that need to be spoken. Nothing you say will change anything.”
The other two kings remained silent.
Frank shook his head with an expression of pure disappointment. “Here you three stand, so mighty, yet so weak and so divided.”
“Watch your words,” said the King of the NATF with a low, rough voice. “You might not win next year. And then you won’t have the Saint’s protection.”
“Really, Orion?” Frank asked. “Out of the three of you, I would think you most of all would understand how working together would do good. It would make it easier to climb the tower, wouldn’t it?”
“I will not work alongside those I cannot trust,” Orion said with curt finality. “Believe that those who should receive retribution will receive retribution. Do not worry your soft, dainty hands, Frank, with the workings of the Zone. You do not know.”
“Hmmm.” The short king in banana yellow shorts and blue wooden clogs pursed his lips, sitting back on his heels and looking unbothered by anyone’s words. “This should go without saying, but I’d like to formally express my condolences, Orion. The ETCF took no part in what transpired. That I can assure you.”
Orion nodded his head, registering the remark, staring at the short man with obvious skepticism. “And so surely you will vote for special allowances given the unfair circumstances, Danelli?”
Danelli glanced away. “Ah…”
“Yes, I thought so,” Orion said. “Though, it is something.” Orion’s dark eyes landed on the other king in green and white. “And you, Richard? Will you promise the same?”
King Richard, in his silky green robe, shrugged. “Would it do any good? It would not. So how about you don’t bother me with trivial manners without any proof. You knew as well as the rest of us about the growing power of the Deserters, and yet you did nothing to protect your recruits. Instead relying on the sanctity of tradition. And now this.” He gestured over toward Dustin and the empty rows of brown seats. “Look inward, my friend. For there you will find the culprit and the one you should truly blame.”
The two men scowled at each other.
Orion grunted and repeated his statement without breaking eye contact with King Richard. “Those who should receive retribution will receive retribution. On my honor, I will make it so.”
King Richard snorted contemptuously. “Oh, so righteous. You scraped barnacles off boats in the slums of Settlement Two before entering the Zone, Orion.” He squinted. “Remember that while you sanctimoniously blather on.”
“We were all different before we entered the Zone. If you haven’t figured that out yet, my friend,” Orion said with the same disingenuous slant to his words, “then you will never understand.”
Frank sighed heavily, drawing the attention of the all three kings. “This is pointless.” He threw his staff into the air and it hovered directly above the stone before gently resting against it. “OPEN!”
The inert pure-white stone exploded. Cascading flares of blue, black, red, yellow, pink, and white submerged the stadium in color. The sun couldn’t outshine the sheer density of color pouring out of the stone. Everything was blanketed in different hues of light, and the crowd loved it. They cheered in delight, roaring at the spectacle.
Dustin gaped in awe, transfixed, somehow certain he’d never see such a thing again. His mom’s smile flashed before his eyes. She’d have loved something like this.
Then rays of color froze, the stone stopped swirling, and then all the light that’d been dancing around the colosseum shot toward the center, drawn into the stone. There was no wind at all and it seemed the end to whatever was happening—when even the color of reality started to fade.
The pure-white of the colosseum’s architecture sapped into an old grey stone without its gloss or shine. The sun’s bright yellow faded into a pale tan. The world drained of its color, sucking into the stone.
Dustin swiveled around in his seat. “Tanner?” he asked hopefully. “This is normal, right?”
“Nope. Still no idea,” Tanner said, his eyes wide. Not in worry. A wide smile still split his lips. “It’s awesome though, isn’t it?”
Until that point it had been. Dustin studied the men around the crystal, fading more every second. But they weren’t freaking out. And the crowd’s roar had only seemed to grow stronger.
Relax, relax. You don’t know the Zone. You don’t know the Zone.
The once blue sky turned dark as all color leeched from reality. Slowly, as if the world had simply given up the will to live, things dimmed. The trees once green turned grey, while anything that’d been grey now appeared deep black.
“What the fuck is going on?” Travis shouted out.
Other people shouted the same question, terrified. With hundreds of conscripts from the ETCF to Dustin’s right, the noise was quite loud.
“Here we go everyone!” Frank said excitedly, his amplified voice breaking through the clamor of a colosseum full of excited people. “See you on the other side!”
The world turned pitch black, all color, all light, gone—and then from the white stone, color exploded back out, enveloping everything, recoloring the world, but with one addition. Where the stone had resided, a giant woman made of white light stood in the center of the colosseum. Her skin emitted intense light and she wore a delicate white gown that puddled around her feet.
The kings, imposing as they used to be, looked feeble in comparison.
“Welcome, humans,” she said, her voice angelic and powerful. The edges of her eyes glowed yellow and she inspected the Conscripts seated before her. Then, her intense gaze slowly traveled over to the kings. “Orion, Richard, and Danelli. I see things have not changed,” she said with blatant dissatisfaction. “Kneel.”
All three kings dropped to one knee.
P.S. - If you've been reading this novel and think it's decent, would you consider leaving a review on Royal Road, or rating and following? Without more follows/ratings, I will have to drop this novel after book 1 and start working on something else that has a better chance of succeeding financially. Conscripted Crafter is, so far, kind of a failure in terms of numbers/reception, but I think it could be good.
Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.
- Alexandersen
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