I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

The campsite was abuzz with protest, as all 25 miners gathered in and around the Lords' tent to hear Stick's plan.

"Burn down the shanties? Are you insane?" someone shouted.

Another voice chimed in: "I always knew he'd gone off his rocker."

Stick tried to placate them. "I know it sounds drastic, but if you want the Lords Blitz to survive, you need to listen!"

Shadis clapped his hands twice. "Men, focus up! Remember: Lady Cassandra escaped similarly. We need drastic right now."

The crowd quieted once more. Stick nodded gratefully to Shadis.

"Under the guise of gathering wood for lunch, we'll move to the camp's outskirts," Stick said, pointing towards where the manor's palisade loomed closest. "There, we'll dismantle parts of the defenses and place them in the shanty town. Then, we'll draw in a pack of Dire Wolves. They prowl nearby every night, waiting for an opportunity. At lunchtime, we'll give them one."

"You can't do that!" Cadmun protested. "We'll be left defenseless!"

Murmurs of concern rippled through the group, but Jacoby raised a hand to immediately silence them.

"Of course, the wolves will be drawn to another entry point at the palisade where the defenses remain intact. We'll set up the defenses and use the fire in the shanty town to fend them off. We'll take the horse from the knight we captured and guide it from the blocked entrance to the one we've opened, leading to the pantry outside the mansion, which the servants will have conveniently left open, with scrap meat the rider will toss over the palisade. This should grab the guards' attention in the mansion. Once distracted, the rider returns and hands over his horse to the Lords and their guard, Sir Moore. With no spikes blocking their path out of the manor, they'll be free to ride into the woods."

The men couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"This doesn't solve our problem with Stamos," Shadis was the first to object. "The wolves will be no match for him."

"That's true," Stick emphasized. "Even Becket, at half his LVL, could kill them with one blow. The main objective is to buy time for the Lords to escape. Surely, having those wolves killed doesn't really help us, right? Well, we do want those wolves killed."

The men leaned in, hanging on Stick's every word, as he prepared to counter every objection.

"Some among us can't risk being involved in this plan. Their loved ones work elsewhere in this manor or they're not strong enough to fight Dire Wolves," Stick said. "So, they'll be ready to douse the flames with water from the well, while the Adventurers take out the pack. When the Adventurers finish off the wolves and come to the burning shanty town, they'll create enough chaos to convince Stamos or any knight for that matter that the Lords have been taken to safety by Becket and Reacher, who will both be conspicuously missing during the commotion. It will take them a while to realize the Lords are long gone, and we've already barricaded the open exit with the defenses. Once they do, the Commoners extinguishing the fire will block their horses, while those with a high enough LVL to withstand other Dire Wolves scatter in all directions outside the manor to confuse any pursuers."

"But what if the untethered knight we didn't tie up comes back from the Slaughterhouse before we seal the exit again?" Cadmun asked.

"Even better." Stick let out a laugh. "Then we'll have two horses."

The first smiles began to break out among the slaves.

"Since you'll have a helmet, you're better equipped than him," Stick continued. "And you're a lot of LVLs above both of them. You're the perfect candidate to fight any one of them."

The men cheered Cadmun on, whooping and praising his strength, but Cadmun's face remained filled with worry. If things really work like a video game here, then we truly need him.

"Don't worry about Lydia and Timmy. They won't suspect anything if he stays inside the mansion during all this. And her... Well..." Stick thumbed his chest. "If you get us that second horse, you'll have the greatest hero watching over her."

His words hit home. Cadmun smirked a little. That's right! Everything will be alright.

"So that's why you're doing it," Jacoby said. "You'll be on that second horse with Sir Frost and Lydia."

The energy in the group shifted slightly. Shadis crossed his arms, his eyes accusatory.

"We put our lives on the line to help the Lords escape, not you!" Titor shouted.

"We need our strongest to protect them. There's no space on that horse for a goblin shit like you!" another commoner added.

"Hold your horses," Stick said sarcastically.

He remained calm, knowing his motivation wasn't as selfish as they presumed. This was expected, after all.

He opened his [Inventory] and manifested a [Carrot] and a [Potato] in his hands. The slaves, unable to see the [Menu] windows, watched in awe as he produced out-of-season vegetables from thin air. He handed the potato to Varyan and the carrot to Jacoby.

"As fresh as if they were harvested yesterday," Stick announced. "But those were meant for the stew on Hero Day."

Varyan held the carrot up to the light, verifying its authenticity. Understandable, since they hadn't seen carrots that fresh for months.

"No salting, cooling, or drying could do that," he murmured.

"You'll want me with you if you want fresh food," Stick explained. "We can survive on what they bring us for the holiday meal for weeks using my Adventurer Inventory."

A silence fell over the campsite. His heart still pounded with adrenaline, but he felt a strong sense of resolve. The miners were unsure how to react, some shifting uncomfortably without the words to express their doubts on such an unbelievable truth, which they witnessed themselves. Finally, a loud, warm belly laugh broke the silence. Cadmun hysterically slapped his leg.

"Look what you've done now!" the bald man cried in a fit of laughter. "Monty, you genius piece of shit."

The room hummed with a newfound energy, a flicker of hope kindling amongst the weary slaves. The accusations against Stick had been laid to rest, and now the men began to brainstorm potential escape routes for the Lords. The uncertainty lay in choosing the safest path, as they had been cut off from the outside world for years. Certain ideas were dismissed outright, such as attempting to cross the border through the No Man's Land between the two warring factions to the southwest. Anything to the east of the manor, like the Nova Civitas, the capital city in the northeast where Carnifex held power, or the old factory in the Dragon's Spine to the southeast, was deemed too risky to consider "hiding in plain sight." Ultimately, the men agreed on Titor's plan: should Stick and the twins become separated, the Lords would first travel to the ruins of Pridtur in the west and stay there until they had hunted enough game to continue their journey northwest to the ruins of the former capital, Cavon. They could raid goblin camps near the city but far enough from the border to make their way to the North Strip, where a guild called B4, neutral to the conflict between Carnifex and the Heavenly Union, resided. They could present their case to B4 in the hope of being allowed to cross the northern border to reach the capital of the Heavenly Union in the west, Cupiditas. Stick didn't pretend to understand what any of that meant, yet he nodded in agreement like the other men listening to the plan. But what if that neutral guild doesn't want to help us?

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As if sensing Stick's thoughts, Varyan spoke: "B4 will help us. Leonhard knew our grandfather well. He might even be at their headquarters."

Leonhard, huh?

The plan was daring, fraught with danger, but Stick knew it was their only chance. If the Lords and knights could escape, then they might find Cassandra and Alastair Blitz and return with a stronger force to liberate the rest of them. He surveyed the room, meeting each person's gaze. He saw resolve in their eyes. They understood the path ahead would be treacherous, but for the first time in a long while, hope was rising through the ranks of the slaves. Together, they would fight for their freedom and carve out a new destiny, free from the control of the Players and the Baron. The decision was made. The time for action is now.

As the night sky's dark blue began to lighten, the slaves had finalized the plan. They agreed on how to prepare for the big day, who would assume which roles and, equally importantly, who would abstain from involvement. The Lords and knights respected the decisions of those not ready to risk their lives and the lives of their loved ones still trapped in the manor. These men were brave enough to remain and continue working with fewer miners, risk burning their housing, and deceive the Players about their involvement with the escape. Their lives would become significantly worse if they stayed, but they placed all their trust in the Lords to eventually free them. They all approached the twins to express their support and wish them luck in their dangerous task. Some of them, including Cadmun, even approached Stick to thank him for devising such a well-thought-out plan. He couldn't help but feel a little proud. That's the first step of becoming a hero!

Feeling weary after talking throughout the night, he sat down alone in the Commoner's tent and observed the men through the entrance, smiling, laughing, and chatting, filled with joy. A few teased Cadmun about being out of shape to fight Reacher or Becket, but Titor and Smith quickly rallied to defend Cadmun's honor, sparking a scuffle. The brawl ended swiftly when Cadmun dropped the pretense of being unaffected by the jibes and began delivering some serious punches.

At the sight of the first blood, when one of the men's [LP] dropped to 0, the fight concluded, and the bruised brawlers laughed together. The miners admitted their fault and expressed their respect, that Cadmun still had it in him. How nice to see them so… happy.

Stick giggled as he watched the men further, content with the hope he had instilled in them. His peace was interrupted when a massive figure blocked the moonlight at the entrance. It was PP, who had recovered from his injuries and sat down before him. What now?

When the big man began to speak, his soft voice emerged: "We need to talk."

"Talk? You?" Stick said nervously. "That's unusual."

"I'm serious."

Stick swallowed hard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. You just never seem to want to talk much."

PP rested his elbows on his knees and leaned in closer to Stick. "This requires a talk."

"What is it?" Stick asked.

With a dead serious voice, PP stated: "I don't like your plan."

You what now?

"You don't like it?" Stick asked, demanding an explanation.

"I'm strictly against this plan," PP began, his voice steady. "It's foolish."

"Foolish? What do you mean by that?"

"It's a reckless rebellion," PP said. "I can't allow the weak to be hurt because the nobles want to escape. The Adventurers aren't as merciful as you think."

Stick's eyebrows narrowed.

"Do you hate me, PP?" Stick asked, striving to keep his voice calm.

"What?" PP lowered his chin to level his eyes with Stick's, seeking clarification. "No, I don't hate you."

"Then tell me," Stick continued, his eyes locking onto PP's. "Would you have killed me back in the pit, when I was the weakest among us?"

PP's eyes darkened, and he didn't respond.

Stick pressed on. "Would you have killed me back in the pit?"

PP hesitated before answering. "Yes. I would have."

Stick straightened up. "Then why are you lying to me about protecting the weak when some Adventurer can make you kill others that easily?"

"Because back then, you were a danger to yourself and to others. You were talking about breaking out and caused unrest. And now, you're putting others in danger again. You could get others killed with this plan of yours."

Stick's heart tightened. "Is that a threat?"

PP shook his head slowly. "No. I'm asking you to wait for Cassandra. It's not worth risking lives. Better to endure until we're freed than to rebel now. It's reckless and it's selfish."

Stick's frustration bubbled to the surface. "Aren't you tired of the Adventurers' control over us? How they toy with our lives? The Lords will be killed, and sooner or later, this way of living will kill the rest of us. You can't be complacent with that."

PP's eyes bore into Stick's. "I've been a slave for over twenty years, long before the Adventurers arrived. My people have been oppressed for as long as I can remember. I've lost countless friends to blind revolutions that failed. Sometimes the rebels among us were successful and our oppressors fell. But that just led to another oppressor enslaving us again. I've had masters that were kinder. I've had masters that were crueler. However, all of them punished those who rebelled. I was spared because I never participated. I stayed complacent. When the rebels were cut down by guards, I stayed complacent. When my friends got executed by the new masters, I stayed complacent. When the Adventurers started calling me PP, I stayed complacent. I know what it takes to endure, to survive."

Stick's voice rose. "Is that why you're always alone?"

"You won't live long if you stick to those playing hero."

The words lingered in the air. Stick took a deep breath. It was the longest conversation he had with the big man. If there was any point where he'd get any answers, it would be then.

"Is that why you told the others that I'm a Player back then? You wanted to brand me as an outcast, so that I won't have help in 'rebelling'? Even though you know how much it hurts to be isolated from the others? How much pain loneliness brings?"

"I didn't do it."

"All those months of loneliness and suffering mean nothing to you?"

"I didn't do it."

"Stop lying to me! You knew from the very first day."

PP's face softened for a moment. "I didn't reveal your secret. But I'm glad it turned out this way. It kept everybody safe."

"Fuck you! Tell that to Montgomery."

The big man's face turned somber again. Then he got up.

"You're half the man you think you are," he said quietly, leaving Stick alone in the tent.

It took a while for his breath to stop shaking. To calm down, he decided to visit the rock outside of camp. He sat down on its cold, jagged surface, which helped cool his anger down. Then he got an idea. He looked around the rock for the spot he had hidden the soap in and after some finger-numbing shoveling he found it. He rubbed some snow on it until the dirt was washing off and the smell started to come through. It was a relaxing, flowery aroma that reminded him of his first days in the camp. He looked closely at the soap in his hands. How can I stay complacent when I am not even allowed to properly clean myself? Why are the Players allowed to have everything?

By the time the day started to dawn, his talk with PP had become a memory. He considered putting the soap in his Inventory but feared that maybe some of the other Players might inspect it before the big day came. Instead, he buried it back in the dirt and covered that spot with snow. Better safe than sorry.

On his way back to camp, he saw the servants leaving the shanty town to prepare the mansion for the Baron's morning routine. He spotted Lydia talking to Timothy and Timothy gesticulating in the air. Timothy made an especially wide motion with his hands and Lydia started to laugh. It was cute seeing them like this. They must know each other for a long time.

He never saw the other slaves going about their day before. The servants were dressed more elegantly, their bodies not hardened by the tedious manual labor that the miners had to perform. A concern started to rise in his head. These people weren't fighters. Will they really be okay after this? Am I really selling the others a pipe dream?

The following days, Stick was unable to shake the doubt that had settled in his chest. He went to bed uneasy, PP's words echoing in his mind. He tossed and turned for hours and when he finally did drift off, he was plagued by a vivid dream. He saw a sick, ginger-haired man being crushed by two collapsing towers. The image was so real, so horrifying, that Stick jolted awake at the exact moment the towers made contact with the man. I wonder what that was about.

His restless nights continued until the big day of their escape and he was concerned that he might not have the energy to pull through with the plan. On the big day, Stick's fatigue was obliterated when he awoke to a new entry in his [Status]. The field next to his [Class] was no longer empty.