Token (Token Chronicles)

TOKEN

Ryan Gressett

Prologue

Hub City, Capital of Knav

The dull gray sky begins to darken with the looming threat of snowfall. The Markets normally bustling paths and polite exchange of chatter amongst the merchants are eerily quiet. The vacant rickety merchant stands are barely able to withstand the howling winds. Many of the merchants are hiding in fear. They would rather forfeit the chance at a day’s profit rather than have all of their goods stolen. This can only mean one thing. The Grodarian troops are out in full force today.

Although the troops make more money than the average citizen in the ravaged country of Knav, it’s still not enough. They use their power and greed to steal from those who have even less. But there is one merchant who is always present. The troops don’t bother him. He has gained quite the reputation over the years. Many men have died trying to steal from him so even the troops have grown wise enough to stay away. He is in the midst of his usual routine of straightening his odd but coveted display of goods. He delights as he sees a young beautiful girl covered in a long hooded black cloak approach. The lack of prospective traders today has him yearning for a chance to bargain.

“Morning Kloe! What’ll it be? A nice warm pelt from the finest animals around? How about a nice cup of hearty broth to warm your bones? Anything you need?”

The crusty purveyor of goods flashes his smile filled with only a few yellow and green teeth sparsely scattered throughout his mouth. Any normal woman would go running in fear at this sight, but Kloe is not there for herself.

“Good morning Gunk. I think today, I’ll just take one of those fine pelts.”

Fine indeed. Most of them consist of roughly stitched together furs of any kind of vermin and rodents Gunk is able to scrounge up.

“Good choice. Good choice my lady. I’ve got just the one for you. Stitched her up only just last night.”

He begins to grab the biggest pelt he has just large enough to drape over a woman’s shoulders. He starts to shake out the lightly coated snow from the pelt and begins smoothing it out to make it as presentable as possible.

“Actually… if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just take the small raccoon pelt here,” Kloe interrupts.

“But miss… it isn’t big enough for you. Why it’s barely big enough for a…”

Kloe quickly interjects, “I’ll pay you double in rations what I normally would if we keep this purchase between us.”

Gunk brightens at the idea of double the payment.

“Why, of course. Discretion is the name of the game my dear. Let’s see, I would normally charge you three rations for this particular pelt, so it’ll be six then?”

A pelt this size wouldn’t normally be worth but one ration, but Kloe decides to pay him the requested six. She begins to hand over six pre-portioned packages of the Vurthoes military rations.

“Darling, if I were you, I would be very careful with who you let see you with these today,” Gunk states while proudly holding one of his six new rations up in the air. “The troops would be intrigued to find someone holding onto so many Vurthoes Rebel rations, especially today considering who they are looking for.”

Kloe’s forehead crinkles in anxious curiosity.

“Who are they looking for? Aren’t they just out scavenging for any children they can find?”

“You would normally think so, yes, but they have been tipped there is a former Rebel in the area. A former General. Rhetta Maddox. There’s even a reward for 1,000 currens.”

Kloe desperately tries to hide the fear exploding from her face.

“Interesting,” Kloe timidly responds. “Well, thank you for the pelt. I’ll be on my way.”

Just as Kloe turns her back, she hears Gunk speak again.

“You know, they would also be quite interested to hear that I’ve had a woman coming to me for months now paying me in nothing but Rebel rations.”

Kloe whips around to see the smirk on Gunk’s face spreading. She has her knife, but quickly decides against it.

“What’ll it take to keep you quiet?”

“Everything you got in that sweet little bag of yours.”

Kloe looks into her bag only to find her recently purchased pelt, three remaining rations, and her only knife. She removes the pelt and throws the bag at Gunk and begins to walk away quickly.

She yells in disgust as she walks away, “It’s all I have left.”

“Thanks for your business,” he yells back. “Come on back anytime!”

Kloe begins to hastily make her way back to the shanty hole she has been hulled up in over the last seven months. There won’t be much time left. She rounds the last corner when she spots the old decrepit inn that has become her home. The building was practically in shambles, no upkeep of any kind. Only a few shingles were left scattered on the beaten roof. Most of the windows were cracked or shattered while the shutters were missing or hanging from their hinges. A pale green color painted all of the bricks on the outside from the massive amounts of mold. Despite all of its flaws, the inn was a perfect fit. Low cost, no questions. Kloe had been paying for the room with the surplus of Rebel rations, but just as Gunk had heard about the reward for General Maddox, so too will the innkeeper. Except, next time, there will be no more rations to bribe anyone with. Definitely not enough to compete with a 1,000 curren reward. It is time to leave Hub City.

Just as Kloe begins to jog across the street to reach the inn, a Grodarian troop yells out at her.

“Stop! Stop!”

Kloe briefly considers running, but she knows she can’t. She turns to face the troop who screamed at her and lowers her hood. Unlike Gunk, she is an extravagant beauty. She has a natural soft and fair complexion to her skin and deep mocha brown eyes. Her auburn hair has begun to grow long again in the months since the Vurthoes Rebel forces were defeated. She is sure to flash her brilliant smile at the troop because she is aware of the effect she has on men.

“Umm… sorry to bother you miss,” the soldier stammers, “but have you seen this woman?”

He holds up a large flyer with large bold words that read:

WANTED

RHETTA MADDOX

LAST REMAINING GENERAL OF THE VURTHOES REBELS

1,000 CURRENS FOR HER BODY

DEAD OR ALIVE

Plastered in the center of the flyer is a picture of the General. A woman Kloe has been protecting for months. A woman who Kloe helped give birth to her child only a few days ago. A woman who is hiding in the very inn only a few feet away.

“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her,” Kloe coolly replies. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No ma’am. But if you do see her, tread with caution. She is extremely dangerous and believed to be somewhere in the area. You must alert us immediately.”

Kloe politely nods and walks away from the soldier toward her familiar door at the inn making sure she does not look back at him. She hurriedly opens and shuts the door to make sure no one could see inside the room.

Sitting in the corner of the room in an old wooden chair is Rhetta with her newborn son sound asleep cocooned tightly in her arms. She gently looks up at Kloe as she enters the room. Rhetta’s eyes are tired and sunken. Her body and mind beaten and defeated barely hanging onto life. Her mannerisms scream of a person who desperately needs to sleep. Most new mothers are expected to be tired and worn down from caring for their newborns, but Rhetta has been sleepless because of what she has to do. She has no other choice. She must protect her son.

Rhetta is barely able to croak out, “Everything go okay in the Markets?”

Kloe is unable to hide the distress in her face or voice any longer. She does not want to tell Rhetta what she knows, but she must if they are going to survive. Rhetta was supposed to have more time with her son, but time is now out.

“Rhetta, they know we are here in the city. I don’t know how they know, but they know. The troops are everywhere surveying the city and the people. There is a large bounty on your head.”

“Do they know about…”

She pauses because she cannot seem to finish her sentence. A terrible thought seems to enter her mind.

Kloe responds before Rhetta’s thoughts are able to spin out of control.

“No. I don’t think so. There was no mention of a child. Only you. You know what this means though? Right?”

“Yes. Today is the day. We must get out. It was only a matter of time.”

It was as if they had practiced the drill a hundred times. Their bags were already packed. Their guns were loaded and holstered hidden from sight. The room was wiped down to erase as many fingerprints as possible.

Kloe peaks her head outside the door first and gives the all clear. As they step outside the door, a heavy flurry of icy winds starts to blow more rapidly. Rhetta shivers as she encounters the harsh elements outside since the many months of her pregnancy. Of course, there is no sun to provide any heat or warmth. Hub City is in the dead of winter with the temperature seemingly falling lower and lower with each passing day.

Rhetta suddenly seems more alert. More focused. She has more vigor and bounce. She has a job to do. She looks down at her son as she begins to swaddle him in the new raccoon pelt. She begins to feel a sudden pang of guilt. She has never even given her son a name. Kloe had already strongly tried to convince her, but Rhetta continuously refused. It would only make this harder.

He starts to wake as the cold air bites his soft newborn skin for the first time. Rhetta quiets him with a tender kiss to the forehead and lets him hear her voice to comfort him. The child looks back up at her with those deep cerulean eyes, most undoubtedly the same as his father’s. Rhetta’s heart is conflicted with both heart-wrenching pain and indulgent affection. It is impossible to look at him without thinking of her husband Jackson, but he is all she has left of him now. Jackson will never get to meet his son. He did not even know Rhetta was pregnant before he died.

“Rhetta,” Kloe whispers. “Rhetta!” she yells louder to sever her trance. “We have to go now before someone sees us.”

Rhetta nods her head in understanding. She knows what will happen if she is caught. Execution without trial, the same as any other traitor. But it isn’t her fate she is worried about. She only wants to give her son a chance to survive.

They begin to warily trek through the lanes of the slums in the city on their way to the hospital. There is almost always a Hawk Station set up in an adjacent building. Fortunately, the hospital is close to the Markets so Kloe knows her way well. They quickly move and cut through the alleyways making sharp turns. Kloe is sure to stay ahead and keep a look out for any Grodarian troops.

As Kloe is preparing to make the next turn, Rhetta stops in her tracks. She sees her bounty flyer posted on the wall in front of her, but it isn’t the wanted dead or alive portion that shocks her.

“Kloe, why does it say last remaining General of the Vurthoes Rebels?”

Kloe pauses for a few seconds before she decides to answer.

“I didn’t want to tell you when I heard. You were still pregnant, and I didn’t want to put any more stress on you or the baby, but they found Magnus. They executed him. They didn’t air his execution live like some of the others, but they circulated pictures. Someone turned him over for his bounty. And his was not quite as hefty as yours so we have to get going now.”

In an almost robotic state, Rhetta continues to follow Kloe through the slums of the city holding her baby even tighter now. She couldn’t help but reflect back on how everything had gone so wrong.

Magnus had really been killed. She was really the last one left who helped start the Rebellion against the Grodarian Federation. Well, almost the last one.

When the young tyrant Cromus and his Cabinet forcefully took control of the government, they implemented the new reign of the Grodarian Federation. The Federation had grown increasingly merciless and cruel over the years. There used to be such a thing as a middle class, the people who had what they needed to survive and get by comfortably but nothing more. Since the inception of Cromus’s rule, his Elitists have dominated the wealth of the beloved country of Knav. The Elitists were the fifteen select loyal supporters whose financial backing firmly implanted Cromus into power. Their rewards were lives forever consisting of grandeur and luxury unfathomable to the common man. While these Elitists lived in splendor, the rest of the citizens toiled in poverty. There is no in between. The only other option is becoming a soldier for Grodar, which many young men and women had to do to avoid their impending starvations. If only that were the extent of Cromus’s abuse, most could still withstand the suffering and bear through. But he also insists on humiliating the citizens by devising an array of cruel programs to see what he can get people to do for his precious food and money. He had pushed Rhetta and Jackson too far. They, along with their best friends Magnus Queen and Laurel Creed, decided to form a Rebel alliance to fight against the injustices and cruelties Cromus had imposed on Knav’s people. They named their alliance Vurthoes to stand for virtue, trust, and love against the evil Grodar represented.