The Primordial Record novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Macaber Will

He dithered by the doorway, before pushing his way across into a passageway dimly lit by a hanging chandelier, the fluorescent bulbs throbbed slowly like a beating heart, this was most likely Noble's house.

Electricity was a relative innovation by the temple of the Iron God, and only royalty and the luxuriously rich could afford it.

Edging himself close to the wall, he walked down the passage, he soon came across other doors but when he slowly tried them, they were shut.

A chill breeze blew towards him, and feeling the bite in his nether region, pushed his awareness to the fact that he was buck naked.

Oddly enough, he didn't care that much. Funny how waking up from a drinking binge in the body of a child, inside a slaughterhouse, changes your priorities, "escape first, clothes later", Rowan whispered, walking on tiptoes to the end of the passage, by now he could see railings ahead, he assumed that meant he was on an upper floor.

By now the voices were less intelligible, and he could barely make out the words, he crept forward, ears straining as he picked certain lengthy sentences from the din of the party that should be below him.

He could identify three voices, and a spark of familiarity made him focus on a particular voice, and he intensely listened.

"The production cost of manufacturing ammunition has tripled over the last quarter, calling in question the viability of equipping the army with these so-called firearms". The first regal voice spoke, and his heart ached at the familiarity of that voice.

He heard a nervous chuckle, "Surely, the gains should outweigh the cost, that Barbarians from the north, do not lack bodies, and we cannot match them in martial prowess, we must produce more elite units to counter their numbers."

A voice like the last gasp of a dying man replied, making Rowan's toes curl, and he felt a deep-seated disgust, and an urge to pierce his ears, this voice made him feel as if a thousand insects were crawling over him.

A different deeper voice harrumph "It is always you calling into question, the bravery of my men, and the strength of the army, we have not fallen yet"

That disgusting voice chuckled and Rowan almost hurled, "General, you jest… surviving does not mean victory, it is foolish to assume that we are not losing, even if it is taking years to come"