Eternity RPC Board
06-07-2019, 02:27 AM
Somewhere in Tieguo | Septem, 1599
Bûi Thành Quyên had spent the last six years as a prisoner in Tieguo. The first three years had been exhausting although not really uncomfortable. He had to face dozens of interrogations, in which Tieguonese officials tried to worm information about personal, political and military affairs. The treatment was tough but not unbearable, and he was a priviledged in the camp, as he hadn't to do any kind of labour and his cell -more like a cabin- was big and comfortable enough.
Quyên had not much hopes in the future, and he was not sure what the Tieguonese government could expect for him. As if present was permanent but without a future, every day was pretty much the same than the previous one. He felt in a limbo, as he wasn't sure why he was kept alive, and Quŷen sometimes felt that he was officially dead - even if his life continued without much sorrow and an increasing amount of boredom. Sometimes, when his mind started to desperate, he felt the temptation to share his secret -a secret that his captors couldn't even imagine-, although such temptation faded away as soon as it appeared.
However, his captors seemed to have lost all interests, as it had been years since the last time that Quyên was personally interrogated. He realized that the rations were getting worse and he was forced to do some manual work, but it didn't make his existence less dull than before. In the camp, everything seemed the same, at least in his section, which was mostly empty. One day, he realized that a group of thirty men had suddenly arrived to the camp. Clearly, they didn't look neither Tieguonese nor Hoinomese. They were forced to work in the next section, which was separated from Quyên's by merely a large wooden fence, but Quyên's prudence won over his own curiosity.
Quyên's solitude was interrupted by a man named Chao. He had seen him for months, as the Tieguonese prisoner was one the men tasked to clean the barracks, including Quyên's cabin and other buildings. They did not exchange a word until one day Quyên could hear him humming a melody that Quyên was able to recognize, as it was a traditional Hoinomese song which was pretty popular during his childhood, many decades ago. One day, Quŷen asked the man about it -or rather he tried, as it had been more than twenty years since he learned Tieguonese language- and Chao -in broken Hôi- replied that he had worked in southern Hôinôm for a decade -a few decades ago- before returning Tieguo.
Since then, Chao became the only person whom Quyên talked. They did not talk much, usually only exchanged a few words every day, but they were able to break the monotony and occupy his mind with something else. Their conversations were not too deep, and Quyên did not much about Chao's life, and Quyên avoided to talk about his past or who he was. Quyên did not really trust him, as he believed that he could be a Tieguonese agent aimed to obtain information about him, but he ended appreciating those brief conversations.
The activity in the camp had increased in the last weeks. Quyên observed how many workers had arrived to the camp that week, incessantly working in the construction of new buildings and barracks, expanding considerably the size of the camp. Although it was at the other side of the camp, Quyên could see how some prisoners were helping in the construction.
"It seems there are going to be changes here soon", Chao told Quyên, who pensively observed the work.
"I guess", Quyên replied. "But such activity seems a bit sudden".
"Last week", Chao said, "two boys from Hannui province came here. There were apparently some riots there and the police violently intervened. Hundreds of young men were either killed, wounded, or arrested, they claim".
"I see", Quyên said without effusiveness, but without looking away from the distance.
"There were rumours that riots against Bhmer migrants in the southern provinces months ago", Chao, "but who knows if it is related".
Bûi Thành Quyên had spent the last six years as a prisoner in Tieguo. The first three years had been exhausting although not really uncomfortable. He had to face dozens of interrogations, in which Tieguonese officials tried to worm information about personal, political and military affairs. The treatment was tough but not unbearable, and he was a priviledged in the camp, as he hadn't to do any kind of labour and his cell -more like a cabin- was big and comfortable enough.
Quyên had not much hopes in the future, and he was not sure what the Tieguonese government could expect for him. As if present was permanent but without a future, every day was pretty much the same than the previous one. He felt in a limbo, as he wasn't sure why he was kept alive, and Quŷen sometimes felt that he was officially dead - even if his life continued without much sorrow and an increasing amount of boredom. Sometimes, when his mind started to desperate, he felt the temptation to share his secret -a secret that his captors couldn't even imagine-, although such temptation faded away as soon as it appeared.
However, his captors seemed to have lost all interests, as it had been years since the last time that Quyên was personally interrogated. He realized that the rations were getting worse and he was forced to do some manual work, but it didn't make his existence less dull than before. In the camp, everything seemed the same, at least in his section, which was mostly empty. One day, he realized that a group of thirty men had suddenly arrived to the camp. Clearly, they didn't look neither Tieguonese nor Hoinomese. They were forced to work in the next section, which was separated from Quyên's by merely a large wooden fence, but Quyên's prudence won over his own curiosity.
Quyên's solitude was interrupted by a man named Chao. He had seen him for months, as the Tieguonese prisoner was one the men tasked to clean the barracks, including Quyên's cabin and other buildings. They did not exchange a word until one day Quyên could hear him humming a melody that Quyên was able to recognize, as it was a traditional Hoinomese song which was pretty popular during his childhood, many decades ago. One day, Quŷen asked the man about it -or rather he tried, as it had been more than twenty years since he learned Tieguonese language- and Chao -in broken Hôi- replied that he had worked in southern Hôinôm for a decade -a few decades ago- before returning Tieguo.
Since then, Chao became the only person whom Quyên talked. They did not talk much, usually only exchanged a few words every day, but they were able to break the monotony and occupy his mind with something else. Their conversations were not too deep, and Quyên did not much about Chao's life, and Quyên avoided to talk about his past or who he was. Quyên did not really trust him, as he believed that he could be a Tieguonese agent aimed to obtain information about him, but he ended appreciating those brief conversations.
The activity in the camp had increased in the last weeks. Quyên observed how many workers had arrived to the camp that week, incessantly working in the construction of new buildings and barracks, expanding considerably the size of the camp. Although it was at the other side of the camp, Quyên could see how some prisoners were helping in the construction.
"It seems there are going to be changes here soon", Chao told Quyên, who pensively observed the work.
"I guess", Quyên replied. "But such activity seems a bit sudden".
"Last week", Chao said, "two boys from Hannui province came here. There were apparently some riots there and the police violently intervened. Hundreds of young men were either killed, wounded, or arrested, they claim".
"I see", Quyên said without effusiveness, but without looking away from the distance.
"There were rumours that riots against Bhmer migrants in the southern provinces months ago", Chao, "but who knows if it is related".