Chapter Four - Disciplinary Actions

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The maidservant, Thirré, led me through the temper tantrum's door through to the porchway, which is what I decided to call the hallway-like porches that were outside the bigger buildings at the Ridge.

Thirré seemed very jittery, so I assumed she was new to the line of work or, as a darker thought dawned upon me, belonged to a very cruel master.

I shook the thought, stepping down the two wooden steps toward the packed sand that appeared so much to be glowing in the sunlight that my eyes hurt just looking at it. I glanced up at the wooden cart they had parked in the yard instead, filled to the breaking point with woven sacks. There was a horse tethered to the front and for a second, I thought of escaping using it, but then I furrowed my brow as I realized what a stupid idea that would be.

"Ouch!"

I stumbled back off the maidservant's heel, startled and immediately apologetic after hearing her pained squeal. She was such a petite, quiet person that I hadn't even noticed her there. Thirré, seeming to realize completely what happened, swiveled around and bowed frantically. "I apologize for stepping in your way, sir, I promise it won't happen ag—"

"No, um, it's okay," I sputtered, bringing both my hands up awkwardly to stop her from apologizing for getting stepped on. "It was my fault, anyway."

She paused and glanced up at me, then, seeing that I was staring at her, dropped her head and bowed lower. "I am in your debt, kind sir."

"Thirré—" she flinched and I stopped, then dread started to build in my gut at the impending meaning of her reaction. "Would there happen to be any particular meaning behind your name?"

"N-no, sir." She released a tight breath quietly.

I knew she was lying, but figured it would be rude to pursue something that could be so private, so I nodded, letting her up from her bow with an inward sigh.

Thirré then continued to lead me back to the eastern quarter of the compound, where things suddenly became more familiar and much more tense. I looked around as we passed the border from southern to eastern quarters, catching anxious glances from my cabin-mates as we went. She kept leading me all the way up to one of the eastern testing fields that I'd never seen before, then she stopped again and I promptly caught my foot before I tripped on her and mentally won myself a medal. Too bad it want a fan to cool me off out here instead.

"We have arrived, sir," The maidservant turned to face me and bowed again. "Is there anything else you require assistance with?"

I looked around the scene—the sand, the wooden buildings several lengths away, the sandy dune in which we came, where I saw a small group of my colleagues shifting uneasily. "Actually," I told Thirré, not looking away from the collection of familiar faces, "there is one thing."

"Sir?"

"Could you tell me exactly what I'm doing here?"

She paused, lifting from her bow, then she folded her hands in front of her uncomfortably, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "This is the field where the warden delivers..." she cleared her throat, "...punishments."

I blinked, once, twice, then laughed nervously, hoping I misheard her. "Punishments?"

"P-punishments, yes."

I turned in a circle—now looking at the ground—thinking that I was going to see dried blood splatters, given how everyone was battered and weary, but no, the ground was just as dry and sandy as I saw it before, and there weren't any whips in any of the surrounding area. I was confused.

"And, um, what are her punishments like, usually?"

"I don't know, sir." She responded, dipping into a graceful bow again, "No one is allowed to observe her while she's here." She lowered her voice, her eyes becoming focused quite strongly on the ground in front of her. "I do know, however, that the people that come out of this field don't usually come out uninjured."

I was taken aback. I never would have thought of her to say something so bold, but it also didn't strike me as a lie. She didn't seem the type to lie. A sudden chill shivered its way up my spine.

"If that is all, I must be going now, sir. May you have the best of luck, sir." She turned and started her way back toward the small crowd that immediately dispersed when she strode through them. I watched the skirt of her black maid's uniform flutter behind her, then she was gone and I was alone.

Not a single minute passed before there was the abrupt scratch of wood against wood. I swiveled around to see the warden in one of the doorways, her eyes searching the yard for her victim. I had never really seen her in daylight before, and I had never seen her coming. She was actually a surprisingly attractive person. She had facial features that all fell into perfect alignment with each other and with her jet black hair that fell loose down to her hips and swayed with every move she made. She was wearing loose brown harem pants, which I didn't normally see on girls, and a gray tunic that went just over her shoulders, then cut off, showing both of her olive-toned arms, which I also didn't usually see on girls. In her hand was a board with paper, and in her other hand was a pen.

A memory flashed of the white-coated people surrounding me with their pens and calculated threats, and my throat went dry, all admiration of the lady's appearance dissolving along with it. Another fact hit me at that moment—that was battle attire she was wearing.

"Ah, Itoma," the warden's eyes found mine and suddenly her attractiveness seemed like a Venus flytrap under the hostility of her gaze. "You showed up."

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