I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

He half expected Reacher to tie all the miners up and send them to the Slaughterhouse at once. Fortunately for him, the knights didn't address the slaves at all. They were engrossed in a conversation about some "No man's land," which irked Reacher. Each knight carried a sack, which turned out to be full of vegetables. They even left a dead pig behind, though they dropped it into the dirt near the fireplace, never once speaking to the slaves. He surveyed the surplus of food they received that day. The pig was larger than the one they got for the twins' birthday. Guess their holidays are more important.

Reacher's appearance sparked an idea. As he navigated through the slave camp, he began to inspect the slaves. Grey windows appeared in his vision all around him. The others, unable to see them, continued their work, oblivious. He noted the names of the three men who had attacked him, PP, and Montgomery some time ago. They were busy carrying the food to Cadmun. The one with the broken nose was called Titor Woods, a [Weapons Master] from the [Duelist] class. The others, Michael Barnes and Patrick Smith, were both [Weapons Master] in the [Ranger] class. The three of them were [LVL] 10, just like PP, and hailed from [Cavon]. What stood out most was their [Affiliation] with the [Goblin Hunters]. Goblin Hunters? More like human hunters.

He took a look around, starting to have fun with his power. Most other men were affiliated with the [Factory], and their [LVL] ranged from 20 to 24. He quickly got the hang of how to inspect a Status and didn't even need to say "inspect" anymore when he checked Cadmun's Status upon returning to the now-lit fireplace. Sir Cadmun Frost was a [Warrior] in the [Knight] class affiliated with the [House Blitz]. He came from a place called [Pridtur]. Cadmun was—[LVL] 30? That's way higher than Reacher!

"Dozing off at work, Recruit?" Cadmun asked.

He snapped back to reality. "No, I was just thinking if I should get more water to clean the pig."

I must have been staring.

"Stop wondering and start doing!" Cadmun ordered.

He emptied the buckets into the cooking pot and quickly returned to the well for another water run. His mind raced with the possible implications of Cadmun's LVL. Although he didn't know what difference those numbers made, he knew it had to be significant. If the strongest people around here are LVL 50, then a difference of 6 LVLs must be a huge step up. He could probably take on Reacher by himself!

He began contemplating how a fight could unfold. There were a few prerequisites. First, they'd need to split up the knights for Reacher and Cadmun to fight alone. Second, they'd have to disarm Reacher or arm Cadmun. Third, Lydia and the Lords would have to be out of harm's way for Cadmun to act. Getting the Lords out of the Manor would have to be their top priority. There had to be an escape plan in place. For that, they needed a distraction that gave them enough time to outrun the horses. But what if we had horses ourselves?

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Cadmun staring at him.

"I said the pig's over there!" Cadmun said, pointing at Titor on the other side of the camp.

Before he knew it, he was back at the fireplace with two full buckets of water in his hands.

Startled, he said, "Yeah, you're right."

"You alright, Recruit? You hit your head this morning?" the bald man asked.

"Yes, no. I mean, yes I'm fine. Thank you."

The bald man didn't seem convinced, exchanging a doubtful look with Michael, who was chopping vegetables over the cooking pot beside him. Still, he reassured Cadmun he was fine and went over to Titor. As the slaves prepared the breakfast-lunch meal, he tried to devise different plans for their escape. It had to involve as few moving parts as possible and require minimal key personnel. This has to be airtight. The fewer people involved in its success, the better. We only need a few high LVLs in an emergency.

"Hey, Recruit! Concentrate!" Titor scolded him.

He nearly dropped the clean pig they were carrying. They were on their way to Patrick or Smith, as the other Goblin Hunters referred to him, who would turn that carcass into lean steaks.

"Even with the dull knives we're allowed to have, he can make the perfect pork medallions. The man was a mean cook back in the day," Titor had explained earlier.

But now Titor's face was less nostalgic than when he reminisced about Smith's cooking a few minutes ago and more annoyed that his daydreaming might make them drop the pig and start cleaning it all over again.

"You need another head bashing?" Titor joked, but he didn't feel like laughing.

His mind was so preoccupied with how to break out of their enslavement that instead of focusing on today's tasks, he overanalyzed every little thing around him. He inspected the former [Goblin Hunters] cutting up the carcass with inconveniently small knives for the second time today; however, the two of them would be useless in any kind of fight, being [LVL] 10. Not like those blades can do anything to even dent the Adventurers' armor.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"If all you're gonna do is stare, then do it elsewhere," Smith told him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he awkwardly took a step back. I should stop inspecting people. How embarrassing.

But as he turned to return to Cadmun for new instructions, he bumped into the man with the scruffy beard, falling on his backside. When he looked up at the old man, he couldn't believe what he saw. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he hadn't misread, but the window containing the statistics of the twins' protector revealed an unmistakable truth: Sir Shadis Moore is [LVL] 33!

"Will you not apologize for your offense, Adventurer?" Shadis asked. "I could have you keelhauled for attacking one of Lord Blitz's honorable knights."

He was still too shocked to formulate a proper sentence, reveling in the impressive aura of the [Knight] from [Cavon], so instead, he got to his knees and lowered his forehead to the ground. Finally, he was able to let out an apology.

"I apologize for the disrespect! I'm sorry, I truly am."

Sir Moore just scoffed and continued on his way. Unbelievable! That old man is LVL 33?

What he saw next, however, shocked him to the core. Just a few meters ahead of Shadis was Varyan walking towards Cadmun. Lord Varyan Blitz's [Status] revealed that he was [LVL] 35. His mind was blown to the point where he was unable to move. He was still bent over in an apologetic position, gawking at the young lord. He didn't care that the other miners were staring. He couldn't help it. What the fuck? No way…

The young lord's [Status] was so different from the others. He followed Shadis and Varyan under the guise of needing extra work from Cadmun, all the while staring at Varyan. His origin and affiliation were [House Blitz], but there was some information missing. He's a [Mage] alright, but what class? It's not specified.

"Let's keep it short today," Varyan said. "One meal. But a big one. Get some cleaning and fixing done and go to sleep at sundown. Remember: We have to combine the tents for winter. And maybe some more firewood wouldn't hurt."

"Understood, Lord Blitz!" Cadmun responded.

Varyan nodded and made his way back to his tent with Shadis in tow. They didn't acknowledge his presence, although he kept staring at their [Status] throughout.

"What was that?" he asked Cadmun.

"What do you mean?" Cadmun asked back.

"What about Arslan? I thought we were celebrating a holiday. Varyan seemed so… hopeless."

Cadmun stirred the boiling stew with a ladle. The vegetables inside tossed and turned in a circular motion.

"Adventurers in the West mourn his death, but the people of the land now get to celebrate freedom. Adventurers in the East now celebrate their freedom, and that's why we mourn his death. Don't let the big meal offered by the Baron deceive you," Cadmun said. "I liked the Great Hero like any other, but why did he have to die?"

He took a minute to take that in. Everyone is affected differently.

Cadmun had lost his steam. "Go and help the others with the tents, Recruit."

He followed Cadmun's order and found a group of slaves untying the tents. There were quite a lot of farmers present, who apparently had the day off and were helping out around camp. Shadis was in charge of the modifications and he instructed the men on how to place and tie the sheets together to build big, communal tents. They had enough spare cloth remaining to be used as covers. By the time the food was ready, they had built two enormous tents able to house "roughly 12 men." Great.

He could feel the piercing looks from the others appointing him as the 25th person unlucky enough to sleep outside those tents. If he didn't want to freeze in the winter, he'd have to win over their trust by coming up with the perfect alternative escape plan in case Cassandra missed the deadline. Or maybe I should say 'inexplicably fails to show up.' Would that be too much?

At dinner, he came up with the core principles. The plan had to depend on three people or so, to raise the likelihood that the slaves would support it. The less responsibility they had to share, the easier it would be to convince them to help. It was imperative to make the twins' escape the first priority to get everyone riled up. If they succeeded with that, then it wouldn't matter that most of them might be captured again. The Blitz family would be able to build a stronger force outside the manor, and once the twins turned 18, they would come back for them. No matter what the Adventurers would try to do to break the prisoners' spirits at that point, the slaves would retain the unyielding hope that their heroes would return. He took a look around at the slaves' smiling faces enjoying the sumptuous meal on their day off. Man, I really am weak.

He cursed at himself for giving in to his despair so quickly after Montgomery disappeared, when the people around him were suffering for way longer than him and still kept their morale up. Of course, he was cast out for being a Player while they had each other to rely on, but that felt more like an excuse for his weakness when he considered that PP had been living like an outcast for years. He was probably eating somewhere in a secluded corner of the camp alone right at that moment. Only the Gods knew how often the man had been attacked and insulted by the other slaves, but that never seemed to take away from his menacing strength. And he is one of the lowest LVLs here!

He sighed. He knew he wasn't cut out to be a hero, as much as he wanted to. He could never be those people's hero. That was Varyan's and Jacoby's role. He was just an unfortunate soul caught up in the middle of a huge feud. Just a tiny, sad speck of dust that had to bow to the will of the wind. Staring off into the distance, he noticed that the fire was left unattended and started to die down. He grabbed some firewood from the stack nearby and groaned because of its weight. He compared the log in his hands with his thin arms, which were half its size. On his first day, he and Varyan carried like a dozen of them all the way down the hill, and now he struggled with a single one after half a day's work. That's how weak he had become. Or maybe he had always been that weak and just noticed? Just a line in the landscape. As thin as a stick. He formed a fist, remembering how the Baron made fun of him when he fought in the pit. But what if that stick was used as a weapon to poke Carnifex's eyes out? What if that stick was able to start a fire in the slaves' hearts? What if that stick could become a hero?

He had a determined grin on his face as the crackling log he threw into the fireplace reinvigorated the hot flames shooting up into the sky with sparks flying in front of his face. Maybe. Just maybe it's time for a new story to be written to bring the people hope.