The Price

Lyeas hated being underground, far from the water, but he hated what this organization was doing even more.
The young Kel buck made his way through the tunnels, torn between picking up the pace and taking his time, his ears rotated horizontally in discomfort. Both for being in these tunnels and out of anxiety over how this meeting was going to go. He had been summoned by High Herald Kaersay herself and he suspected he knew why.
The Order had not been what he thought it was when their agents came to this Grand three cycles ago. Their songs of protecting Daulka from enemies both within and without was anything but. They ignore the calls of dealing with bandits and exiles that harry travelers and raid Grands, yet expect goods and services from the same. The Order had essentially become the bandits themselves.
That was bad, but some of their recruitment practices were worse. Fine enough for them to sing their songs to convince the gullible to join them of their own will, but what they did to the Touched and Blessed ones...Lyeas shivered at the memories.
Touched were forced to join them, then forced into becoming servants for the fully initiated members of the Order. The Blessed were killed outright: Lyeas supposed that was a better fate than being worked until their scales or feathers fell off. Yet that wasn't even the worst of what he had seen.
Breeding enforcement. The Order had forcefully imposed restrictions on who can breed with whom: breeding between two breeds was frowned upon, especially if the two potential mates were of the same elemental leaning. Those that ignored that 'rule'....
Lyeas felt another shiver go down his spine, recalling the memory of the Desert Gar buck and the...he believed the hen was a Highland Sif...they had come across by chance. From what he learned later, it is usually a more experienced squad that took care of this violation, but the head of their squad, a scarred Plains Gar buck named Voraw, determined they couldn't wait.
He shut his eyes and lowered his head, his lips forming a grimace and his stomach threatened to expel his earlier meal over the memory of what had happened next. Lyeas remembered questioning why the couples nest of three eggs had to be destroyed. Recalled the rebuke Voraw gave him, whom told him that such violations risked the rise of a great threat to all their kind. The pain of the backhand he received when he flatly told his leader that such judgments was not theirs give. Chaos had followed after.
The Gar buck had attacked them and Lyeas could not bring himself to join the rest of his squad in the fight that followed. He could only watch in horror as two of his squad mates were slain . A glimpse of the Sif hen fleeing on the wing shortly before Voraw cut her mate down.
Lyeas remembered the look on the buck's face, how he looked at him, as the fire in his eyes died. A silent thanks was in his eyes, a thanks for speaking out, standing up.
But did he truly deserve that thanks? He had only stood there, did nothing to aid either side. Voraw had been enraged at both that and the fact he failed to point out the hen had escaped with an egg. As an immediate punishment, Voraw had forced him to smash the other two....
....he had prayed heavily to the Ascendants that night for forgiveness. But the Ascendants only observed and judged a spirit upon death. Until then, the living can and will judge him, righteously or otherwise.
A large doorway was before him now, heralding the end of his journey. Just beyond it was the main office of the High Herald and he cleared his throat to announce his arrival.
"Enter." He heard Kaersay state. Lyeas took a deep breath and stepped in, immediately greeted by the dim light of glow stones and the scent of old ink and parchment.
The room was large and rectangular, within two of it's walls diamond shaped holes were carved and within those were countless scrolls. Along a different wall was a stone desk, a charged glow stone covered in a fine mesh sitting upon it, providing just enough light to see by. Beside the desk was a wooden stool and it was here that the High Herald sat, scribbling something upon a blank sheet of parchment.
She was a Rock Tuk, short like him but much broader in shape, dark grey in skin color with scales almost as black as night. Kaersay had been High Herald for a while, from what he knew, and rumors were about that she was soon to step down. She was strict and unyielding like the stone of her home and Lyeas doubted her successor would be much different.
For a moment nothing was said, the only sound of Kaersay's quill on the parchment. A growing unease started to fill him, the tip of his long tail started to twitch. He wanted to say something, but that would be against protocols and he dared not move from his spot either. The Kel tried to distract himself by examining the room further, but he was too far to make out any further details in this dim light.
Save for two.
On the same wall as the door he entered through was another door. It was dark, almost unnaturally so, as if the darkness had tainted the wood that had formed it. There was something...unsettling...about that door, looking at it sent a chill through his body that made him shiver.
Leaning against the wall between the two doors was Voraw himself. The Gar buck had his arms folded and a steely glare affixed upon him.
He had a bad feeling about his, his instincts telling him he should run. However, Voraw was in the right position to prevent such escape.
"Come here," the High Herald then commanded, drawing his attention back toward her. Lyeas hesitated, his desire to run even stronger.
A strong hand then clamped onto his shoulder and forced him forward, Voraw's greater size and strength leaving him with no choice. Within seconds, he was beside the Kaersay. She then grabbed one of his hands and, with a small knife, made a cut on his palm. He yelped in pain and tried to pull away, but Tuks were as strong, if not stronger, than Gars, thus he could not break free. It was only after she had collected a small amount of his blood in a bowl did she let him go.
What was she doing? Some weird ritual akin to the Sand Walkers bloodletting one he had heard about? Lyeas tried to leave, hoping that was all he was needed for, but Voraw was holding him firm. He could only watch as Kaersay mixed some ink with his blood.
Being this close...he could smell that ink and it...smelled wrong, somehow. It didn't seem to flow like normal ink either, instead appeared to creep quickly, like long shadows forming as the sun set.
"Name?" Kaersay queried. Voraw's hand had moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck and the squeeze of it compelled him to answer.
"Lyeas."
As Kaersay wrote his name at he bottom of the page, he finally read the contents of that page.
"No!" he cried as he recoiled in horror, trying to tear away, but Voraw held him firm.
Lyeas had heard rumors of this very thing. Contracts that somehow imposed the Order's will upon the more resistant members.
Members like him.
He fought with all his might as his still bleeding hand was seized by Kaersay and forced to hover over the parchment until a few drops of his blood fell upon it.
At once he felt cold and dry, like his very connection to Tide had been striped from him. Voraw had released him, allowing him to collapse and wrap himself with his arms, shivering. Eventually, the feeling passed and was able to rise to his feet.
"Is it wrong to destroy the nests of those that go against our breeding rules?" Kaersay was asking.
Lyeas opened his mouth to say that it was, only for no sound to come forth. That dry, cold feeling returned, nearly sending him to his knees once more.
A wicked smile was creasing Kaersay's wrinkled lips.
"Good...," she stated. "No longer will you question...no longer will you disobey." She then looked up at Voraw. "Take him back to his quarters, Voraw: he should trouble you no more."
The scarred Gar once more put his hand on his shoulder, only less firm this time as he guided him back out of room.
"W-why...."" Lyeas choked as tears fell down his cheeks."
"We do what we must to ensure a great calamity doesn't come," Voraw told him gruffly. "It is a small price to pay."
Small? Losing the right to speak freely is not small! Lyeas gritted his teeth in despair, feeling that perhaps this 'great calamity' needed to come to stop the Order itself.
He silently prayed to the Ascendants that the Order will ultimately fail and that they would punished for what they had done....