Blood of Karzahni File 20: Flaze's Arrival

Flaze's arrival is a record hidden deep in a filing cabinet in the Blood of Karzahni's secret base, chronicling how Flaze came to join the Blood of Karzahni.

Prologue
''"It's time for you to recount once again," Quekar said to Flaze. Flaze groaned.''

"No point. I've already told Lekrave and Commakand what needed to be said."

''"Just humor me," said Quekar. "This all needs to be written down, and since I'm not tending to any wounds, I'm the perfect one to do it."''

"This is a story I dislike telling people. It reminds me of my only true failure," Flaze grumbled.

"We all have failures," said Quekar.

"But not all of us gain our own kingdom, then get toppled and banished by the very people who put you on the throne."

"Perhaps not. But we all know that things need to be recorded or lost.  Just start telling me."

''Flaze sighed. "I can see there is no getting around your psychology. Might as well start at the beginning, over one thousand years ago..."'''

Chapter 1
The war was going ill against those of the inferior race. They had gained a new general, Conhara, that scum, and he did not seem to want to allow us to enslave and kill them all. Electric defense fields had been unbroken for weeks by our troops, allowing enemies to entrench.

Of course, at the time, it didn't matter much to me. My only job was to keep the people entertained. Yes, I was an arena fighter. For those of you who don't know what one is, let me enlighten you. An arena fighter is one whose only job is to stay alive. No real glory, no great honors, just fighting. I mean, after surviving a year in the arena, I was nearly as rich as some of our richest nobles, but it didn't matter to me. I still had to fight for my life once or twice a week. And it looked like that week would be my last.

Why, you ask? They brought in one of the last Protocairns, an idea which I didn't take to my liking. Things looked like I would be permanently out of the Arena, when I got lucky, or at least I thought so at the time.

The fellow who came to retrieve me was small for our species, and had blue bands around lower arms. This tended to signify one enslaved for debts, so I could at least look down on him. "What," I said harshly towards him.

"My master, General Fleztak, would like to see you, sir," he stated. I wondered what on the planet could a ruthless general like him want me for?

"I don't do autographs, especially for the pompous fools like him," I replied.

"He expected you would say that, but this is not your average call. The General has drafted you into the Army."

This came as a totally unexpected shock to me, but the shock would come to any. "I have a big important fight to amuse the crowd," I defended.

"Master Fleztak doesn't care, unless the King himself pardons you from draft, which both me and him doubt," he said.

Although I carried a strong sense of nationalism, I mean, crowds of social elite cheered me on twice every week, the war was getting more brutal by the day, with the foreigners beginning to launch attack on our own lands, going on the offensive. When that happens, it might seem heroic to want to repulse the enemy, especially when your army is losing, but it's often suicide. A lesson I learned in the arena, when a friend of mine in the arena at the same time as me tried to save another fighter from three scabeets. Both he and the other were killed anyway. Obviously they were both sloppy fighters, but the lesson was learned. "Tell 'Master Fleztak' that he'll have to wai-." I cut myself off when I remembered the hungry Protocairn waiting to eat. "Where is Fleztak?"

"I'll take you to him, Mister Flaze," he said. We began walking.

"How much of a chance do you think I have of surviving," I asked the servant.

"Very little. That Conhara fellow has strategy better than those Kerkans," he replied. I was about to say something when he added: "But you fight better than most.  Let's hope they don't electrocute you."

After an hour of walking across our city, which was dominated by stone houses, he arrived at the General's marble-walled mansion. It was like a giant box, with three floors visible, each with windows. Pillars held up a balcony on the second floor above the main door. When we entered, it was better lit than the Great Temple in Metru Nui, which I've seen, though not at that time. Torches hung off of pillars in the main room. Chandeliers hanged down from the ceiling. I was amazed. Even I could not afford this.

Sensing my thoughts, it seemed, the servant said: "So long as you are absolutely victorious, and the enemy does not reach your homeland, the business of war often pays off."

I nodded my head in agreement.

We entered a small room at the end of the large hall. Inside was that great piece of scum, General Fleztak. He had red bands around his lower arms, signaling he was a military officer.

"Thank you for bringing him in," the General said to the servant. "You may go now." The servant left and closed the door. The General turned and looked at me. "I've heard stories about your impressive fighting prowess. Perhaps you would like to use it to make sure we do not fall."

"Not particularly," I said.

"How unfortunate," he replied. "You know, it has been my duty tasked upon me by the King to execute any enemy sympathizers. Let me ask you again:  Would you like to help bring our nation it's victory?"

It appeared I didn't have a choice. "Yes, for we are the most powerful race of all! None shall stand against us," I almost shouted, which was our 'national motto', if you could call it that.

"Good. You have no need for training, except to learn our strategies.  The nearest dispensary will have tactical manuals, which must not fall into the enemy's hands.  We need a hero if we are going to pull through this war.  I hope that that hero is you."