I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

Shadis made his way to the twins and, seeing their lords dressed in exquisite clothing, the whole crowd erupted in cheers. And why wouldn't they? The boys looked absolutely stunning in their linen outfits. Both the undertunic and outerwear were finely crafted and heavily embroidered. It fit them so naturally that one wouldn't question whose manor it was up on the hill. He couldn't help but feel a joyful pride witnessing the twins, who had fallen from grace and were forced to work for their enemy, don their outfits with such confidence. Amidst the storm of whistling and "oohs" and "aahs," he found himself ecstatically cheering with the other slaves, miners, servants, and the third group he assumed to be farmers, before the lords even had a chance to speak to the crowd. Varyan, who seemed a bit flustered by the situation, tried to speak up, but his voice was drowned by the celebratory yelling. When Jacoby raised his hand, however, the crowd began to quiet down. By the time the lord's hand was lowered again, even the slaves who didn't directly see him in their line of sight were hushed. That's the kind of influence a lord wields.

"It's been two years," Jacoby started, "two years, two months, and 26 days."

A murmur went around the crowd.

"I've been counting." Jacoby took a step forward. "I've been counting the 817 days my father, Thomas Blitz, has gifted me with his sacrifice."

The crowd fell silent.

"And he didn't just die to protect my brother and me. When Carnifex took his head, he protected all of us. He bargained with the Adventurers for us to be spared. He gave each and every single one of you 817 days as well."

Jacoby took a moment to look through the crowd. Some slaves were silently sobbing.

"My father believed that life is the greatest gift one could have, for death comes unexpectedly and without fail, just like the Adventurers came for him." He exchanged a somber look with Varyan. "Every birthday we celebrate, I'm reminded of that. But I'm grateful for each and every single day he gave me. It is not the life I've wished for. I know it's not the life you've wished for too. Frustration sometimes gets the better of you, and I know that, but I expect you to be better than that."

At the back of the crowd, some miners shuffled around.

"Don't fight among each other, for the name Blitz unites you. Don't throw your lives away, for they were gifted to you. Understand my father's decision to be subjugated! Respect his wish to let us live! Trust that the Blitz family will come out on top! Have faith that Cassandra will find my grandfather and return to correct the Adventurers' wrongdoings!"

Shadis handed Jacoby a chalice with a tear in his eye.

"Loyal subjects of the Blitz family," he raised the chalice, "as long as we have each other, we will persevere. To freedom from Carnifex! To life without Adventurers! To the Blitz family!"

The crowd exploded in jubilation. If the earlier cheers were a storm, this was a volcanic eruption of people clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and hugging and rejoicing with each other. A stranger clapped his back, while one of the farmers he didn't know grabbed his shoulder and shook him excitedly, inviting him to celebrate with them. However, he no longer felt like celebrating. Life without Adventurers?

He made his way around the back of the crowd and retreated behind some tents where Cadmun's tent used to be. Over the commotion the crowd made, he heard Shadis proclaiming that the feast was about to commence, and even though it smelled delicious and he hadn't eaten in days, his appetite was gone. He leaned against a nearby tree and took a deep breath. The feast had begun, and he observed how freely the slaves enjoyed the festivities without the interference of any Adventurers. Soon, a servant started to play the flute, and the slaves who had finished their meal began to get up and dance in a circle. One farmer woman and a big miner held each other in their arms and rocked back and forth to the music. Music. Real music. Not screams, or silence, or boots on metal.

He saw Cadmun arm-wrestling with another bald man in farmer clothes, as Timmy cheered them on. A group of farmers seized the rare opportunity to talk to Shadis and the twins. They were gesticulating wildly, passionately recounting something important. Jacoby listened very closely and didn't change his cold facial expression until the men were finished. Then, Jacoby placed a hand on the farmer closest to him and spoke a few promising words. He pointed to Varyan, who just smiled, while Shadis turned away to hide his tears. The farmers were bowing and crying as they distanced themselves to join the dancing circle again. It's not every day that they can all gather.

Some miners stood next to Lydia serving the food, not to get a second helping, but rather to talk to her. They were more interested in the girl than in the pork stew. When a furious Cadmun appeared behind Lydia, the men dispersed in all directions, which made him giggle. They all look so happy. Is that what freedom from Carnifex looks like? But what of the Players?

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"I knew I saw you coming over here," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

It was Montgomery, appearing between two tents.

Montgomery strode across the dusty grounds of the slave camp, clutching two bowls of steaming pork stew.

"How'd you get two?" he asked.

"It pays to be on PP's favorable side."

The mention of PP's name caused him to frown.

"Don't worry, he's never celebrating with us. He grabs a bite and watches everyone, just like on any ordinary day." Montgomery gestured towards the shadows where the other tents were located.

He looked in the general direction where Montgomery indicated. If he squinted, he could discern the brightly colored hair of the big man. So he's just observing us? Creepy.

"So how was your backwash?" Montgomery asked, coyly shifting the topic.

"You're a dog," he retorted, attempting to shut down the conversation.

Montgomery handed him one of the bowls, a smile forming on his face. The aroma made his mouth water. He nodded in appreciation and took the bowl. They ate in silence for a while before Montgomery reinitiated the conversation.

"You're not an Adventurer, you know," Montgomery said.

He momentarily paused his meal but remained silent.

"You're not one of them, and you know it."

"But I'm not one of you either. I'm a Player, but not an Adventurer. I'm not an NPC, but I'm a slave. What am I?"

Montgomery placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Recruit. It doesn't matter that you're a Player. If you're trapped here, you're a slave. If you're a slave, you're one of us, and just like the rest of us, you're fighting to survive. The others will understand that one day too."

Before he could respond, Varyan appeared, his approach heralded by the sound of his laughter.

"What's with all this serious talk?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face. "You two look like you're plotting something."

"Just trying to knock some sense into this stubborn fool," Montgomery replied.

"It's nothing, really," he added.

Varyan looked at him with disbelief. "I heard about you being a Player from Cadmun."

He gulped. Of course he did.

"I can explain," he stammered.

But can I really?

Varyan dismissed his concern. "Don't worry, I had a hunch when I first met you. Your secret's safe with me. How are you holding up?"

His gaze lowered to the ground. "It's just… difficult to accept."

"I understand. But I agree with Montgomery's optimism; this is a fragile opportunity for us. For now, it's best to keep a low profile and devise a plan on how to leverage your status. Between Cadmun, Lydia, Timothy, and us three, no one else will know for the time being. Especially not my brother."

"I-," he faltered, unsure of what to say.

"You have to make sure that you won't react to Reacher calling you out in front of the others. If someone doubts you, just show them your belly. The others will find out eventually, but we won't let anyone treat you differently when they do," Montgomery said, sensing his worries.

He raised his head. "Thank you, both of you. That means a lot."

Varyan nodded, his demeanor softening. "We've all had our struggles. This place tests us in ways we never imagined. But it's just one more year."

One year? That's what the Baron said.

"What's going to happen in one year?" he asked.

Varyan's expression turned serious. "When our people reach eighteen, they unlock their power."

"What do you mean by power?"

"Well, power," Varyan explained, "in the sense that you instinctively understand your true calling. Some awaken magic. Others find strength. Some… nothing at all."

"How so?"

"I hail from a long line of mages," he explained, "My great-great-grandfather was the first, a rarity in the East back then. Every descendant since has unlocked their magical understanding on their 18th birthday, seemingly overnight. Just like my sister two years ago."

A thought sprang to mind. "Cassandra?"

"Yes. Cassandra," Varyan confirmed. "She escaped the camp when her powers manifested."

"That was an eventful evening," Montgomery laughed, "fireballs and magic projectiles everywhere. Those knights had a hard time catching her. She ransacked a couple of houses around here. That's why we're sleeping in tents."

He pointed towards the shanty town. "That was her?"

"No," Montgomery chuckled, "that's what's left."

Wow. So slaves can be that powerful too.

Varyan tried to stay on topic. "Since then, she's searched for our grandfather, who was in the West before the war began. We believe he can help us free the slaves."

"What makes you think he can help?"

"Wow, you really don't know anything," Montgomery interjected. "Lord Alastair is among the smartest and strongest people in the world. He assisted Arslan in killing the Gods."

Kill the Gods?

"I thought the God of Life protects us. How is it dead?"

"Well, the God of Resurrection brought it back to life," Montgomery explained, as if it were self-explanatory.

He began to doubt what the man was telling him. After all, it was Montgomery.

"Before the Adventurers arrived, we didn't know about the God of Resurrection ourselves." Varyan attempted to reassure him.

He wondered if they were playing a trick on him to lift his spirits, but Varyan's words sounded sincere.

"So if your grandfather can kill a god, then why hasn't he returned?"

Varyan lowered his head. "That's what we don't know."

"He's also just human after all. He didn't kill the Gods single-handedly. He aided in the raids, but it was the Adventurers who ultimately did the deed. Like the Baron's father, for example."

His hope of escaping began to wane. "The Baron must have formidable allies if his father is such a powerful Adventurer."

"And that's why Cassandra needs to find out what happened to him. But don't worry," Varyan encouraged him, "he knows other powerful Adventurers too. They make the Baron look pathetic in comparison."

A name sprang to mind. "Leonhard?"

Varyan's eyes lit up. "You know Leonhard?"

"Well, no. But the Baron mentioned her name."

"Ah, of course."

Varyan slapped his head, angry with himself for raising false hopes. It pained his soul to disappoint him.

"Anyway," Varyan continued, "Cass will find out what happened to our grandfather and come back within the year to save us."

Cass? Cute.

An unsettling thought emerged. "But what if she doesn't?"

Varyan looked him deep in the eyes. "Well, let's just say that the Baron won't allow two mages to emerge at the same time."