Chapter 1: If you’re lucky, then life lets you choose some of your suffering

It was one of those secrets a lot of people know about, but speaking of it openly might earn you the privilege of a beating. Björn didn't know how the boyband-pretty cardplayer had recognized him as a silent lamb, perhaps some shibboleth or the fact that he spent money like it was going out of style. The sore loser alluded to his deduction just as Björn collected the money he won from him. 

"Well played, see you on a beautiful sacrifice day" Björn broke his beer glass and started threatening blondie boy. The phrase had left some room for denial, he could claim that he merely took Björn for a religious man who would attend temple activities — but the stranger didn't bother lying and instead backed away smiling.

The two redheaded escorts who accompanied Björn did their best to calm him and draw him away from the card table. Searching for something within the opulent entertainment palace to distract him. "look, your favorite one is on! Using tough love on two misguided youths" said Vira, and pointed towards the nearest TV. The athlete Björn had looked up to since he was 18 was using her battle mace, known as tough love, to crush the heads of two enemy gladiators from the competing team Misguided Youths. Björn had lost track of time, he didn't know the match had started. It wasn't that late, however, out of the 100 combatants each team was given, only a total of 23 had so far been killed, surrendered, or otherwise taken out of the arena.

"Vira, I love you" he said and kissed her, then, not to let the other "twin" feel left out he added "love you equally as much, Nisd!" and kissed her as well. The two sexworkers were in fact just relatively similar looking, but makeup and other efforts emphasized their likeness enough for them to sell ménage à trois for a twin-price. Björn suspected this in his heart of hearts, but his penis of penises made him suspend his sense of disbelief to get the bragging rights of having bedded twins. They sat on a couch facing the screen. The machine was made out of gold and diamonds, or rather small parts of it were and the rest was made out of cheap imitation — so that the casino's advertisement could say "come watch our diamond ornated gold TV:s" without enabling legal charges of false advertisement. The entire establishment was moduled in that fashion, to look as expensive as possible for as little money as you can get away with. As if the goddess of homelessness had killed the deity of excess, and was now wearing her skin and badly imitating her mannerisms in an attempt to trick the victim's family to let her in.

"That's what people don't get about Faid" he said in defense of his favorite gladiator, despite no one making any attempts at criticizing her. "Her true strength doesn't come from her one-on-one combat skills, but from her leadership. See that" he pointed to the graph for team-morale estimation on the TV:s 3D-projection, it was going up for her team and down for the others, "she makes them believe in themselves. Even though both teams are matched when it comes to material factors, they have no logical reason to belive they'll win. But she makes them feel like winners!"

For the moment, the show was making his blood boil, the 3D making it feel like he was there. And not there in the "oh my god, please don't kill me"-way, but the "oh my god, kill him already you've got the shot"-kind of way.

"Do people often question your support for her?" Nisd leaned against his chest while saying it, unbeknownst to him asking follow-up questions almost on automatic while closing her eyes and pretending she was with her ex-boyfriend (the one that got away).

"Yes! Constantly! It's because people can't see the bigger picture. That's why I'm going to win this bet. Damn, I should have been a gladiator. If I wasn't so lazy, fat, and unskilled at violence. I would have been a great leader. Does either of you have a charger?" His phone was very close to death, they answered negatively. He resigned to charge it back in his hotel room. The tides turned, Faid ordered her team to surrender, in order to save as many lives of her soldiers as possible. He respected her decision but also hated her for losing him a small fortune (he better more on her than he should have). His blood didn't boil anymore, he wasn't lost in the entertainment, having returned to the here and now. 

The blond man had angered him because Björn didn't like what he had chosen to make of his life, and hated when others voiced their agreement with him on this issue. Like pointing out to a cancer-stricken chain-smoker that maybe he shouldn't have consumed a pack every hour for the last twenty years. Being factually accurate and deserving a few punches for speaking bullshit aren't mutually exclusive — instead, they tend to correlate rather well. He tried to concentrate on other things. He was cuddling with two women hot enough to give every girl who ever rejected him body dysmorphia, he was drinking champagne costing more than the monthly wages of the people who used to outshine him in school. 

"Gladiators might die painfully, but they at least die in an exciting fashion. They bring entertainment to a crowd" He said after a while, the distraction hadn't worked. 

"Darling, don't belittle your occupation. Priests couldn't grow back legs on maimed children, power ships through space, and all that if people like you didn't bleed for it" Vira said, feeling genuinely sorry for her pathetic john.

"Yes, those are always the examples they put in the infomercials. 'Get paid to take part in a lottery. Most walk away unharmed and richer, and the one with the special number can help cure a cute kid of cancer or some shit'. They don't tell you about blood rites to increase IQ and looks, that you might just be used by the temple to help a high-paying bourgeoisie family get more fuckable sons and less daft daughters."

"Still, someone's life will at least be made better through your death." She added hastily "if you happen to one day draw the wrong number"

"Trust me, at the rate I'm going, I will get that damn number. I can't help myself. I collect new tickets constantly, they pay you so much money for each one! I'm only taking part in one lottery right now, but I'll buy more once it's over — my odds are stacking. This shouldn't be legal."

"But you chose to participate." Nisd was drawn from her fantasies of exes with dimples deep enough for you to grow happiness in, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab bad days to death with. She couldn't help but be dragged into focusing on what Björn was saying.

"I'm an addict, I have behavioral issues. I can't help it. Offering people cruel deals, when they're in plight is immoral. It's like making people work in sweatshops because they don't want to starve"

"Honey" Nisd ignored her sister's silent attempts to steer her away from saying the obvious "you're talking to two women you're paying to fuck in the ass. Trust me, we didn't dream about being escorts when we were little girls"

"Don't play that game. You two aren't poor streetwalkers in some underdeveloped hellhole, you're luxury escorts. I pay out of my nose for your company. And you could easily find other work, modeling for one"

"I don't deny that, but shouldn't the same be true of you?" Nisd wasn't angry, just fascinated by his lack of self-awareness.

"No, sucking dick and dying screaming isn't comparable"

"So gladiators then?"

"Okay, there you have a point. That should be banned as well. It's just that while they're broadcasting it in HD I might as well enjoy it"

"Things aren't black and white here. Police officers, prison guards, and soldiers risk their lives, and folks in elderly care go through the traumatizing experience of sitting by people's sides as they fade away. I used to work in elder care and had shit thrown at me by demented old men who thought they were still at war. I would rather suck a thousand dicks than work one day as a butcher. Surgeons are paid to live with the mistakes of having killed people on the days they didn't perform well enough, to receive hatemail from angry relatives."

"So what, everything goes because nothing is perfect?"

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"No, but there isn't a clear line. Reality is messy. Vira, don't shush. I know you agree"

"It's okay. I don't pay you to pretend like it's raining if I say something idiotic. Speak your mind Vira."

"Well, it's just. I think that if the king made a decree, banning your profession, you honestly wouldn't be happy about it. I think you're a silent lamb, because other options don't exist for you"

A retort burned on his tongue but was quenched by a second thought. "You're too smart for your own good" he kissed her on the mouth. Then sat in silence some more, signaling for them to let him think "you're partially correct. It's not always right to remove people's options, hindering adults from making their own choices, but sometimes treating adults as children is definitely the right thing to do.

Let's say being a lamb was banned. I would be angered, I would be sad. Not because there aren't other alternatives, but because there aren't options for the type of life I want. At least not for people like me, who don't have the discipline or smarts to study to become a master programmer or the grit to start their own company. It's like a star boxer or bum fighter, who earns a lot of money from getting his teeth punched in."

"You're far from a bum, trust us, our prices would be much higher otherwise" said Nisd. 

"What my sister was trying to say, is that you're too handsome to compare yourself to people who get disfigured for a living or who can't afford showers" He laughed at Vira's attempt at damage control.

"It's okay, I can take a joke. But as I was saying, the boxer and the bum wouldn't be as harmed if boxing and bum fighting was banned, their lives improving greatly in that respect, but the boxer wouldn't be a rich star anymore, and instead work as a low-paying security guard or something. The bum wouldn't afford an extra flask of wine. But long term, holistically, I think they would be happier. We would. I could find comfort in an office job, a homely girl to settle down with. It's like taking away drugs, the addict is upset first but will thank you later."

"I don't think I'd ever thank anyone for taking away my cocaine," said Nisd, Björn chuckled and kissed her as a sign of appreciation (and as a signal not to interrupt). He then continued as if nothing had been said.

"Sure, not being a lamb wouldn't be fun, it would even be painful and humiliating at times. To be yelled at by a pencil pusher boss, commute to work, etc. But that's the thing my dad tried to tell me. Life isn't a party, you don't get to pick the soundtrack. It's an office job, you can choose to get drunk in the morning but then you have to work with a hangover tomorrow. Or you can stay sober and be bored in your few free hours between 9-5. If you're lucky, then life lets you choose some of your suffering — unlucky people dream of getting bad choices instead of none. Maybe I've chosen the wrong suffering. Am I making any sense?" Vira pinched him "Ough, was I really being -" she then hushed him.

"Check your phone!" she whispered. It was dead now, she showed hers. Police had announced that a silent lamb hadn't responded to calls to collect him, they were looking for him within this casino and offering an award for tips. Obviously, the loser of the most recent lottery, the lottery Björn was taking part in. He didn't bother to read more than a few lines out of the bulletin, he felt sick looking at it.

For a moment, Björn wanted to hide. To find a new identity, to pay a surgeon to remove the tracker that had been planted inside his body when he agreed to this job. But he didn't have the stomach nor the energy for it, why live a few more months on the run as a poor man — when he could die today as a rich one. He kissed the faux sisters goodbye and left the couch as they protested in words he didn't bother taking in.

Walked up to the reception, knocked a police officer on the shoulder, and identified himself as the missing man. The officer laughed and escorted the blonde idiot from before out of the building.

The twins caught up to him. Of course, they didn't believe it was him the police were looking for, they had seen the blond man's face on the information sent out (slightly below where Björn stopped reading). They wanted part of the reward for finding him, and therefore didn't want to alert others by speaking loudly on the matter. Never mind, the man had already been found by the time it took for Björn to get to the lobby. Sure the casino had several floors and was larger than Björn's ego, but they most likely wouldn't have been able to find him before the police anyway.

"Angels, I'll reimburse you for the lost finders fee. There is something much grander here you're missing. A sign from the gods! They wanted me to feel how I would the day I was taken as a sacrifice, to the see folly of my ways and leave this lifestyle behind me. I swear to heed this warning! That was my last lottery, it ends today. So, as a celebration, let's go to bed". Vira looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Nisd didn't share her limitations. 

"We're super happy for you honey, but you only paid for one night together, we've been hanging out with you since then mostly on goodwill." said Nisd, though on her part they mostly hung out because he bought them expensive gifts, and that he might get just this type of impulse for an expensive do-over (while Vira was more motivated to hang around due to sympathy).  "We can keep you company for an hour or so, but won't be intimate again without extra charge" He remembered their astronomical prices and his own bank balance.

"No problem, the gods smile on me today. Once my phone is charged, I'll buy the last ticket of my life".

***

Men and women wearing animal masks tied Björn to a tree, they cut runes into his flesh. He had been given some sedatives, but not enough to entirely block out the pain. The gods wanted some anguish served with their blood sacrifices, you could bargain to an extent but all the misery couldn't be removed. A group of children and two adult recipient of the ritual's grace was led up to the trees Björn and the other men were hanging from. They helped the priest carve at least a part of one rune each into the victims, one recipient was too sick to grab a knife so a holy man held his hand on the weapon and steered it. They had to be part of the ritual somehow, to share in the guilt. A disfigured boy threw up from the screaming, bleeding, and anguish of the doomed men — another seemed close to fainting. One of the recipients sat in an automatic wheelchair, another had burn damage across her face. He didn't at least die for something trivial. One woman did look to be without ailments, so she might just be getting a higher IQ or a more appealing bone structure, Björn tried to convince himself that she must be carrying some hidden disability.

The civilians left them, while the masked ones continued chanting. From the woods they came, attracted to the blood and the sound of their god's name, the favorites of Odin. Most gods don't love humans, people are like children they birthed and then got bored with — their attention and help being highly conditioned on the little one pleasing them. Some creations they do care for enthusiastically, however, even close to unconditionally — the blessed beasts. Animals, often large, grotesque, and with paranormal elements to their biology, each god with their own little spoiled pet. Connected subconsciously to their diety, possessing a type of instinctual religion rather than an intellectual one. Animals unable to learn basic math carving out complex rune patterns in the bodies of their prey and performing religious dances through inborn knowledge, honoring a deity they related more to as an invisible pack leader than as an abstract foreign presence. Some were wild, and others were pampered and studied by temple-workers for hidden signs as they mostly acted as normal animals and occasionally were guided by their patron to provide a cryptic omen. They weren't special in his Björn eyes, they weren't even housecleaned. He couldn't understand what the gods saw in these creatures, why humans with their intellect, sophistication, and morals couldn't be worth at least as much. The unfairness of it burned in his chest, he was like a child sleeping on the backyard wondering why his mother hit him but not the family dog.

Human sacrifices were most often performed by letting blessed beasts eat people alive. Sleipbörn was the chosen species of Oden. They were horse-like, in the same way that a lion can be said to be kitten-like or an adult serial killer child-like. All of them were eight-legged, like Odin's own horse, and had a third eye facing forward placed in the middle of their head. The mother of the hungry family was large as a bus, a mountain of muscle, she beckoned her calves to go forward, the boldest one bared its sharp teeth and bit into the shoulder of the man opposite to Björn. The blonde devil from before, he screamed in pain. That's how he had recognized Björn as a lamb, he was one himself and had learned their peculiarities and ways of being. The man nodded to Björn and said.

"I told you we would meet again!" laughed, then screamed as another bite was taken, continuing to shift between mad joy, pain, and desperation. As one of the monsters licked Björns toes, savoring the taste before the first bite, Björn tried to comfort himself. Sacrifice victims to Hera could be fed to her spiders, who buried through their skin, laid eggs inside them which hatched, and had them eaten from the inside by their young. Freya's cats toyed with some of their victims, and being fed to the worms of the earth goddess Ale didn't seem like fun either. Things could be worse. That thought didn't help as teeth ripped through flesh.

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