Most Distinguished Conspirator written by Christopher Khong (Year 8)
T
he rain started falling again. Everyone was milling around, nervous for the judgment to come. Screams rang out from those the Hand of the Truth had found. The smell was nigh overpowering due to the crowd of unwashed bodies. Osque watched the bunched up crowd with little interest. It was just another week, another week when 7 people would be torn away from those they loved, and disappeared into the OverLord’s citadel, never to be seen again. Her cloak flapped in the wind as she jumped from the post, carefully hiding her left arm from view. With this many Hands around, she would be whipped to death if they noticed. The murmur hushed quickly as the High Infiltrator and High OverSeer came into view.
—b— No doubt the OverLord-cursed Eye of the Truth would be blending into the general crowd, ready to mark any dissenters. She brushed her way through the dirty, underfed populace to get a good look at them. The Infiltrator cocked his metallic eye at her, and a cold chill ran down her spine. His gaze lingered on her, then moved on. A breath she didn’t realise she had been holding blew the tension out of her body, her shoulders slumping. She looked up to the sooty sky, holding her resolve. However, before she could blend back into the crowd a piercing whistle signifying the beginning of the Ritual. The fear emanating from the people was palpable and a piercing scream told Osque that the Hand had found someone who hadn’t hidden well enough. However, before she could slink back into the crowd, a shrill whistle blasted, signifying the beginning of the Ritual.
—b— The OverSeer’s cruel gaze drifted over the crowd, and for a moment, Osque thought that she was to be chosen, that her life would have been for naught, that she would die today. The Infiltrator’s spindly hand reached out and pointed to a famished man next to Osque. His eyes went wide, panic clear on his face. Looking around for an escape like a cornered animal, he pushed straight into Osque, knocking her to the wet, slick tiles on the ground. He didn’t get far before red welts appeared on his legs. A long metal whip retracted from the crowd, the citizens quickly parted for the member of the Hand of the Truth to walk through. The man whimpered, trying to scrabble away to little avail. As Osque began to get up, her cloak became stuck under the boots of the panicking public. With her left arm now exposed, the citizens around her hurried away, forming a circle of gasping onlookers. “Oh?”, Osque slowly turned towards the Infiltrator, his snaky voice slithering down her back “A MetalGraft hiding in peasant clothes?”
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