As they approached their destination, Seth saw a walled compound. The red and orange plaster buildings looked lively, if a bit plain. The building that stood out was a ten story tall building in the center. From base to ceiling, it was covered with diagrams and inscriptions in various colors. The blood red shingles were particularly eye-catching. It was hard to count, but it looked like there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people living there.
"Impressive, isn't it? The compound can house several thousand members at a time," Samuel had told him during a free moment. Seth wasn't sure, but kept his mouth shut.
Eventually, they reached the compound. Being up close allowed Seth to truly feel the scale. The walls were at least 40 feet high, with only one set of gates in or out. The gates were a faintly glowing, blood red material. The grounds smelled of herbs and iron. The hustle and bustle within brought to mind various construction sites Seth had been a part of. The sounds of hammers on wood, metal on metal, and people trying to talk above it all was comforting. A reminder of a simpler time. Well, he could have done without hearing the talking. The double-speak he was hearing from the translation was still making him feel ill.
Once the gate closed behind them, the shackles disappeared from his legs, and they got off the hoverboard. Seth stretched while keeping an eye on his captors. Samuel and Bacchus whispered to each other, before Samuel strode away. Bacchus came over and shoved his hand inside Seth's backpack stealthily. With his other hand, he gestured toward a large group of people and said, "Go there," before walking away. Seth thought about escape for a minute, but couldn't come up with a realistic plan. Giving up for now, he went to the crowd of people on the other side of the complex.
They were gathered in a courtyard around a large, raised platform. Nobody else here were wearing the vermillion robes everyone else. In this group, there were as many types of clothes as there were smells. The group of ashen skinned people to his left, with threadbare woolen shirts, smelled of sweat and filth. On his right were a group of normal looking people with fancy tunics and leggings, smelling too strongly of perfume. From what he could overhear, nobody was there by choice. One group told a story about how their trade caravan was taken mid-route. Their guards tried to protect them, but were slaughtered. He also heard the sect traded protection for the occasional tribute.
A tugging on his pants drew his attention to a small, ashen skinned child that came up to his waist. Their face twisted in fear, but the rumbling of their stomach, and the shaking of their hand on his jeans, said enough. Sighing, and coughing slightly, Seth dug through his bag and, after unwrapping it, gave the kid a protein bar. The kid took it with a dirty hand, and ran back to his group.
Turning his focus outward, Seth felt several sets of eyes on him, or more precisely, his backpack. He had seen other people with food here, but those had been in large groups. Cursing his own stupidity, he grabbed his brass knuckles and scanned the surroundings. If someone wanted to try something, he would prove he wasn't an easy target.
"Attention," a voice thundered in his head, compelling him to turn his focus to the platform. There was now a man on the platform. Like everyone else in the compound, he wore vermillion robes. The trim on these robes on the hem and around the cuffs, however, was a deep, red-tinged gold. The man had shoulder length, snow white hair as the only sign of age on his smooth face and strong jaw. Next to him was the young man who had captured him, the family resemblance clear.
"You are currently in the profound blood spirit sect. I am the grandmaster of this hall." After those words, the force holding Seth's head in place let go. He didn't dare look away.
"What gives you the right.." yelled one of the men near Seth, in a nice tunic, before his voice cut off. Looking around in panic, his body flew through the air, coming to rest next to the grandmaster. The grandmaster made some strange hand signs, reality bent, and the man started soundlessly screaming. A thousand invisible blades shredded his body, starting from the hands and feet. The only sounds in the courtyard were vomiting and crying. Once the man was thoroughly pureed, the grandmaster pulled an ornate stone vase and lit a fire. The stream of gore flowed into the furnace, along with a stream of other plants and liquids appearing out of nowhere. Later, Seth would learn this vase is called a pill furnace. A few minutes later, reality rippled and twisted from the furnace. The grandmaster pulled out a blood red pill, which he swallowed with a smile. He let what had just happened linger in the air for a few minutes before continuing.
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"You are initiates, not members. The rules for you are simple. No murdering other initiates. Absolutely no violence, theft, or deceit toward members of the sect. The servants are servants for members, not for you. You are to obey them if they tell you to do something, and if you harm them, you will regret ever having been born. Whatever little value they have, remember, you have less." With every word, Seth had to swallow the complaints swirling in his mind. Telling prisoners that they were initiates didn't make it any less a prison. Another brave, or possibly foolish, man actually tried to voice that objection. His reward was to become another pill, this time for the grandmaster's grandson.
"This is an opportunity. You will be taught to cultivate. Two months from now, and every two to three months after, you will be tested on your progress. Those who have made the least progress will become resources for the sect. Like these two."
The rest of the speech was boring administrative details. Everyone drew lots, and were separated into groups of around forty. His group was approached by a man with a jet-black ponytail and a scar across his nose. However, as the man was introducing himself as Claude, Samuel and the young man who captured him pulled him away. Bacchus took his place. Samuel glanced and started chuckling, like a kid who was enjoying their prank a little too much.
They all got their initiates robes, which were vermillion with white trim. Now that he knew what to look for, Bacchus' robes had the green trim of an outer disciple. Samuel's was the purple trim of an inner disciple. They then were fed a simple, filling meal of meat that tasted like spicy beef. Once they reached the bathhouses, they were commanded to, "wash away the stench." Servants instructed them on how to use the various soaps available. Seth found he was adjusting to the mental double speak, mostly by tuning out the original voice. They received rings that Bacchus called tiny spatial storage treasures, and would be taught how to use them later. They were then assigned private rooms, which were keyed to open when they pressed their hand on a stone plate outside the wooden door.
The inside of Seth's room was small, with a thin cot, desk, lamp, and enough left over floor space to sit down. There was a wooden plate on the wall that acted like a light switch, toggling a light in the ceiling. The light was an orb embedded in the ceiling, surrounded by glowing glyphs. The walls were made of wood and painted vermillion, except for one wall left brown. They were solid and well made, and the room was a comfortable temperature, in spite of the heat outside. Taking off his backpack, he took stock of his supplies. Fortunately, he hadn't been robbed, and still had plenty of emergency reserves. Also in his bag, he found a rolled piece of parchment. When he unfolded it, the unfamiliar script assaulted his brain, carving the meaning into his mind. Overlaid on the paper, he saw the meaning translated into English.
Spend time in the library.
Karmic magic determines the rules.
Only you and the grandmaster can unlock your room.
Make time to search for resources.
Karma between us is settled.
Seth spent time puzzling over the note, wondering why Bacchus bothered placing it in his bag. After reading the note a few times, he pulled out a lighter and burned it. Seth got the feeling that Bacchus had toed the line with some rules in delivering this message. He may have been an asshole, but Seth would hate to see him get in trouble for helping. He then pulled a photo of him and his kids out of his wallet; a square hole where his ex-wife's face used to be. He imagined what he would tell his kids about this world, if he ever saw them again. Drifting into a happy fantasy, Seth finally drifted off to sleep.
Of all the alarm clocks Seth had dealt with, none woke him up as quickly as a voice yelling inside his head. When he didn't get out of bed quickly enough, the voice yelled louder, until he got up and dressed. Then it kept repeating where he needed to go until he arrived. About an hour later, the group formed up in their meeting area of the compound. Bacchus arrived, along with some people in grey-trimmed robes. Even though their robes marked them as servants, they looked like they'd be more at home training soldiers than sweeping floors.
"Do what I do. If one of the servants corrects you, obey," Bacchus said. He then led them on stretches and exercises. The people in the grey trimmed robes kept a careful eye, immediately correcting any poor form. A woman who talked back to one of the servants was rewarded with Bacchus snapping her arm and tossing her to the side. He continued the exercises as if nothing happened. Everyone else did their best to pretend the woman wasn't screaming in the background.
Seth had trouble keeping up, as his lungs and muscles burned. He couldn't restrain wet coughs that came with blood. Luckily, nobody paid any attention to him. The servants said nothing, just getting him back into form to continue. Five minutes in and Seth was already winded, and it didn't seem like it would end any time soon.
The exercises lasted for about an hour, after which they took a break. Seth collapsed on the ground, panting and wheezing. While everyone rested, servants passed out bracers, which nobody refused. The bracers were oddly light, made of black leather. There were some faintly glowing blue characters etched into the bracers. Once everyone had a set of bracers. Bacchus made a motion, and the symbols on everyone's bracers lit up. For the first time in days, Seth felt some relief from the burning energy coursing through his veins. He took a deep breath, and refocused. He stood tall, ready to continue.
The rest of the group collapsed like ragdolls.