I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

The soft, golden light of morning filtered through the council room's grand windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The Jester, dressed in flamboyant colors that seemed too bright for such a solemn place, rose from his ornate chair with a flourish. With a mischievous grin behind his mask, he began to sway, his body moving with unexpected grace as he twirled through the room in a playful dance. A soft melody drifted through the air as Sofia Solo played the piano in the corner, her fingers dancing delicately over the keys. Her music filled the room with a calm that belied the storm brewing beneath the surface. Now, as the light tune she had been playing still lingered in the air, her fingers paused on the keys, and she watched the Jester continue his dance with amusement. She raised an eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, Sofia," the Jester said mid-twirl, his voice light and full of cheer. "Have you ever seen the sunrise over the mountains of the Southern Peninsula? The way the light breaks through the treetops of the usually dark and twisted Whispering Woods, the birds singing their morning hymns? It's a dance all its own, far more beautiful than anything we perform here. No wonder little Lucio wants to stay at the Blitz Estate all the time."

Sofia sighed, leaning back on the piano bench, her fingers still resting lightly on the keys.

"No, I haven't," she admitted, her tone soft. "Not in years. Duty keeps me in this city, chained to matters of war and politics. I can't remember the last time I saw anything beyond these wooden walls other than the port."

"A shame, truly. You of all people deserve to see it. You work so hard." The Jester twirled closer to her. "The world out there, the world we're in… it's alive. Even with the war, the countryside still hums with life, with possibility. And I'm not talking about respawn rates or agricultural development."

"Possibility? Or just chaos dressed in a prettier form? You romanticize too much, Claudius." Sofia chuckled quietly, shaking her head. "Or maybe you just don't care much about order."

"Perhaps," he replied with a bow, his arms sweeping wide. "But someone must remind you all that there's more to life than these endless meetings and battles. Maybe one day, Sofia, you'll leave the city and see the beauty of the sunrises here for yourself again."

"Perhaps," she echoed, though her smile faded as her mind drifted back to the weight of her responsibilities.

Claudius turned serious for a moment. "You know you won't find him inside the castle walls. You have to leave eventually to find him."

Sofia's somber gaze turned towards the window. She didn't speak. They just stood there for a while until suddenly, the sound of the door creaking open interrupted them. One by one, the other council members entered, and the room filled with the heavy presence of authority and tension. The Jester ceased his dance, slipping back into his chair with a silent grin as the tone of the room shifted, and the more pressing matters of the day began to unfold. Boring.

First, General Sofia Solo, the highest-ranked member of the Carnifex military, rose from the piano, her polished armor immaculate, the stern expression on her face a stark contrast to her earlier serene performance. She moved to the head of the table, signaling that the formalities were about to begin. Next came the Count of Prye, Vasili Mikhailov, a haughty man with sharp features and a thin beard, his cloak dragging behind him. He scowled as he took his seat, already impatient. Following him, the Baroness of the Dragon's Arm, Vanessa Sallow, entered, her fiery red hair pinned up in a severe style. She carried herself with a confidence bordering on arrogance, a faint smirk curling her lips as she glanced at the Count. They were followed by the last member taking part in the hearing, Duke Herzog.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. As members of the Upper Echelon currently in the capital, you were summoned to fulfill your jury duty as a supplementary, neutral party to this matter of the High Council," Herzog began, getting straight to business, reciting the function of the meeting.

Or the point to it.

"I don't have time for this," the Count grumbled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I am only in Nova Civitas because the King ordered more lumber, but that's impossible. The frontlines are crumbling. If we don't want to get overrun by those HU bastards, I will need more slaves for lumber production. Without them, we won't have enough to reinforce the battlements."

The Baroness scoffed. "More slaves? Do you even understand the situation we're in? How will you feed them? The Players on the frontlines demand rations from Elevation One daily because their provisions keep running out. Meanwhile, my workers starve and have to deal with the Skornix infestations. But you know what real men do? They get the job done themselves, no matter the circumstance."

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The Jester started tapping the arms of his chair impatiently.

"Why do you think I'm here, Baroness?" Count Mikhailov asked, putting emphasis on her lower title. "I addressed this matter personally by coming to the capital to seek an audience with the king himself. I get the job done myself!"

"My men kill the Skornix and eat them!" the Baroness retorted. "How does that compare to your whining, Count?"

The Count bristled, his face flushing with irritation. "This is not the place to—"

"You're jealous," the Baroness cut in, her eyes gleaming. "Stewing over the fact that Baron Bonatelli made the High Council without being a Duke? Honestly, Count, haven't you realized that titles don't make the man?"

"What?" The Count slammed his hand on the table, eyes blazing. "Why was I not informed of this? I demand answers!"

The Jester giggled from his seat, causing the others to momentarily glance in his direction. The Count's outrage amused him, though his interest never strayed far from the dynamics of power playing out before him. This is getting interesting!

Herzog, who had been quiet about the derailed meeting so far, finally spoke up, his voice calm and measured. "You were not informed because this is High Council business—for Dukes, not Counts."

"The King only appoints Dukes who have made enormous contributions to the guild's prosperity to become High Council members. Between Claudius being a founding member and Sofia leading the armed forces, what has that Baron child achieved? What have you done?"

For a quick moment, Herzog's face darkened.

"Do I really need to remind you?"

Count Mikhailov flinched for a second, but then pressed on. "Is this one of your tricks again, Herzog? Like the LVL 25 Praetorian roaming the palace you call your son?"

"It's not a trick. A Praetorian's duty is to protect the Upper Echelon, Count. He's learning, just as all of us must learn. Even from failure." Herzog was back to his calm self.

"How can he protect anyone if he can't even set foot outside the capital? A simple mob could eat him alive. At that level, he should be a Soldier at best."

"A Praetorian's role goes beyond physical defense. Just by looking after the rulers of a country, they gain insight into the politics of running it. They wield political power, as they did in Ancient Rome. My son may be struggling, but he's gaining experience, shadowing his brother when possible." Herzog's response was patient, almost weary, until he added the last bit. "Plus, it's quality time with the family, whenever Lucio visits."

The Jester rolled his eyes. Of course. Quality time with the family. Never change, Alois.

"Experience as in handling an NPC revolt at their Estate?" the Baroness quipped. "I heard that was caused by a LVL 1 Player. How does something like this even happen?"

The Jester laughed again, louder this time, his enjoyment of the tension in the room palpable.

"We don't know the truth of that yet. That's what we intend to find out today." Herzog had remained unfazed. "What we do know is that failure often hides valuable lessons. One day, when this war with the Heavenly Union is over, people will rise to LVL 50 again. When that happens, Carnifex will need experienced leaders. My son will be ready, even if we are not here to guide him."

The Count glared at Herzog, suspicion darkening his features. "Is that a threat?"

Herzog smiled faintly. "Merely a warning: don't ignore the future, or it will come for you. That's all."

The Count's eyes flashed with rage. "The kingdom is sitting on a powder keg of problems and instead of removing it, you're distracted fathering someone else's children that play with matches."

Herzog had paused, then spoken with quiet authority. "Vasili, I met with the Duke of Tovenir last week. We've arranged a transfer of 35 servants from his lands to yours. It's already been approved by King Ahlgren."

The Count looked over to the Jester Claudius in disbelief. "Is that true?"

The Jester had to find his bearings for a moment. He was a bit out of it, as the whole discussion to that point had felt like a stage play he was completely enthralled by, but that suddenly called out into the audience to get involved, shattering his suspension of disbelief. Some fools just never learn that questioning authority can end badly for them.

"Why yes, dear Count. As the King's right-hand man, I can assure you that I was the King's right-ear man when I bore witness to the negotiations like the King's right-eye man. And let me tell you as the King's right-mouth man that the Duke is speaking the truth on that matter. Is your doubt quelled now?"

The Count didn't want to respond to that, so Herzog continued: "Additionally, I secured an agreement with Baron Bonatelli to increase food production for the frontlines. The rations you need will arrive shortly. I'll also have you know that my visit to the Blitz Estate wasn't of personal nature, but to ensure that Baron Bonatelli increases the production of food supplies to send to the Front Lines, which he agreed to. That should help with the lack of rations in the Dragon's Spine."

The Baroness had raised an eyebrow, surprised. "One step ahead…"

"I'll send a letter to Commander Steiger," Herzog had replied. "He's a resourceful Elite. I'm confident he can spare some Officers to assist with the Skornix."

He turned to meet Sallow's eyes.

The Baroness nodded, satisfied. "The future can come."

Herzog turned back to the Count. "Now, remind me, Count, what have you done so far except complain?"

He is the Minister of Commerce after all.

The Count, caught off-guard, sputtered but said nothing.

Herzog's expression remained cool. "Well then, I suggest you return to Prye and begin managing your new arrivals. The frontlines won't fix themselves."

Before the Count could respond, General Solo interjected, her tone sharp. "Enough. We've convened today to solve another matter—the LVL 1 Player. Take your seat, Herzog."

Herzog sat down, unchanged. The room had fallen silent as the General's command hung in the air.

"Right." Herzog said, reset, as if the conversation had never happened. "Let's start with a quick summary of what we know."

Eerie. That man is not human.

In an instant, the mood had shifted from bickering to anticipation. The council braced itself, awaiting the story of the mysterious Player who could change everything.