The Soul Coin

Chapter 1 - Willow

          "There is no hate like a Tallimon's love." Archer said in a low voice. Willow almost missed it from the sounds of them scrubbing the tile floor.

         Willow leaned back on her knees brushing away the sweat that accumulated on her forehead. She dunked her brush into the soiled water. The skin on her hands dry and cracked from the lye. She returned to the scrubbing, eyes red from exhaustion. They had spent a full day in the fields, been given a can of food on the cart to the temple, and were expected to clean until dawn. Black stains and chunks of debris marked the tile from the boots of residents who came to worship, obviously too busy to use the scrapers by the door. They brought in the mud, horsecrap, and whatever ungodly mess was outside into the pristine temple. The tile, barely visible at this hour, was illuminated by the gas lamps that burned in the corners.

          "If the great Tallimon is so powerful, ya'd imagine he could clean his own temple. Don't see why the poor like us suffer it." Archer said. He was louder this time, more assured.

         Archer came from a different estate up North in Lemmings. Willow and the others heard whispers of soulless throwing down their tools and taking a banner of red. Whispers that mostly came from Archer. Willow didn't care. There were always stories and talk of revolution. A soulless revolution. Willow didn't believe Archer was more than a voicebox, repeating what it heard. He was always loudest when none of the caretakers were around. Archer, he clung onto it, made himself out to be a regular activist despite his selfishness and shackles.

         "Shhh! You shouldn't talk about that here." Allie said. Her voice came from the back of a pew where her and another girl were polishing the wood. It was a timid whisper. As if Allie was afraid someone would realize she heard what Archer said. It was a fair response. Any one of them would have been punished for Archer's outburst. Boshin, the head caretaker, liked to put the soulless in their place.

          Archer threw back, "Ain't like I chose this life, like I somehow made myself soulless. Pity them, they say in sermon. Make em work till dawn they say to each other."

         Willow stopped pushing the brush against the tile. She held it there for a moment, squeezing the wooden handle. Her head ached, a pounding that she felt in her stomach. She felt it all come on again because her rhythm broke, by the bickering. Their bickering, their useless bickering. There is no hate like a Tallimon's love. It wasn't a new slogan, wasn't a new thought, just more complaining about their position in life. Complaining as if it would do something besides lower spirits further. All of them were soulless, all of them knew what that meant, knew what sort of life they had. What is the point of constantly talking about it over and over again? Especially when it ends with a beating. Willow had tried to comfort Allie to the reality, tried to curb Archer's zeal, and yet they bicker as if there was going to be a change in that moment.

          Willow pushed on the brush, felt the throbbing get worse, gave up, and slapped the brush down into the water. It drew a look from Lupin, who was off to her right, but Willow didn't care to see. She carried the pale outside and threw the soiled water onto the street. It went into the gutters as the old already cobblestone began to dry. The Dwarves had crafted the road nearly a millennia ago, and yet it still stood and was better than what any human could make. Willow couldn't know if that was true. It was just something someone told her once. She had never seen a Dwarf, never been outside of Trivale. Well, not that she could reliably remember. The estate was where she spent her days. Estate being a loose term for farming workhouse.

          The street was illuminated from the gas lamps that lined it, yet it was dark enough for Willow to watch her steps as she made her way to the fountain. There were plenty of places to run, places to hide. Wouldn't do much as the caretakers would find her. They'll always find their runaways. There was no escaping your soul debt. Running would cost her another three years on top of the four she had left. At the downward slope of your time, you just eat it. Eat the work until it's over. No more scheming or plotting escape. Willow could understand why the older ones were jaded now. She just never thought it would be her.