I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

"They were out of the slave camp?" Priscilla asked gently, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yes," Stick said. "But it couldn't have been more than a few days."

"That's good," she said, her calm tone catching him off guard.

Stick frowned, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What? Didn't you hear? They were caught again!"

"If they stopped at Pridtur," Priscilla replied, her voice unwavering, "they might have had a good night's sleep. There's a lovely inn there with warm beds and real feather mattresses. That must count for something after all these years, even if it was just one night."

Stick stared at her, grappling with her perspective. "I appreciate your optimism, but people died for their escape. They died for nothing."

"No." Shadis lifted his head. "Not for nothing."

Stick turned to him, his full attention drawn. "What are you saying?"

Shadis locked eyes with him. "Mr. Arslan, how much of the Carnifex dungeon did you see when you rescued me?"

Stick blinked, the abrupt shift in topic catching him off guard. "PP and I were locked up in the deepest part of the prison. Why?"

Priscilla's brow furrowed slightly. "You were imprisoned? Why?"

Stick scratched his head, avoiding her gaze. "It's kind of a long story."

Shadis ignored the aside and turned to Nakamura, his bewilderment evident. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Nakamura confirmed with a stiff nod. "I heard them myself."

"Splendid," Shadis said, his expression brightening with a spark of excitement. "Was there anyone else imprisoned there?"

Stick tilted his head. "What does that have to do with the dead Goblin Hunters?"

"Everything, Mr. Arslan," Shadis said. "Now answer me—were you alone in there?"

Stick hesitated, glancing at Nakamura before replying. "Well, no. PP was there with me."

Shadis's head snapped toward PP, his expression triumphant. "Splendid! Splendid indeed!"

"Explain yourself!" Stick demanded.

"If you had a very dangerous enemy, dangerous enough to tear down the walls of your castle, where would you put him?"

Perplexed, Stick replied, "Deep underground, maybe? I don't know."

"Yes!" Shadis exclaimed. "I saw every cell in that dungeon when they dragged me inside. Every cell except yours. Deep underground."

Stick stared, waiting for Shadis to connect the dots.

"I can say with utmost confidence that Lord Alastair is not inside the capital of Carnifex."

"Lord Blitz? He's alive?" Priscilla asked, her voice trembling with restrained hope.

"Of course he is!" Shadis declared. "And it is now our responsibility to find him. That's what Mr. Michael Barnes and Mr. Patrick Smith died for."

Stick felt a flicker of hope ignite in the storm of his mind.

But Priscilla wasn't finished. "And the twins? They still need you to protect them, Sir Frost."

"I have full confidence in Sir Frost's abilities. That youngling has more power than you think."

Stick let out a weak chuckle. Cadmun? Young?

"And how will you do that?" Nakamura asked skeptically.

Shadis turned to him, his intensity unrelenting. "You will help us."

"Me?" Nakamura asked, flustered.

"We'd be in shackles already if you weren't on the run too, right?" Shadis deduced.

"Yes, but—no, I—why would I help you?" Nakamura stammered.

"Because you've helped us before," Stick interjected.

"That was before they raised the alarm," Nakamura argued. "Moving a big group now is impossible. I'm better off alone."

"And what happens after you get out of the city?" Shadis probed.

Nakamura hesitated, searching for an argument he didn't have.

"You know the capital," Shadis said. "We know the wilderness. You'll need us as much as we need you."

"I… I can take care of myself," Nakamura said weakly, his conviction faltering.

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Stick spoke with pride. "The men of Blitz Estate have faced harsh winters and harsher famines. You'll want them out there."

Nakamura's resolve crumbled. "Where would we even go?"

Becket, silent until now, leaned forward. "I might have an idea."

"So?" Stick's voice cut through the silence. "What is it?"

All eyes turned to Becket. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest as if organizing his thoughts.

"I don't think word has spread yet," Becket said, his gaze shifting briefly to Nakamura. "Of your escape, I mean. Most guards probably don't even know you were imprisoned."

Nakamura's hand drifted to his chin as he mulled over the statement. "Hm… I guess you could be right."

Becket pressed on, his tone steady. "If you play it right, Nakamura could pose as someone on an urgent mission, with the rest of you acting as his travel companions. If word hasn't spread, The Prized Possession could pass as his slave."

Stick grimaced. "What about Shadis and me? They'd recognize him after the trial, and my status would make me a dead giveaway."

"You're right," Becket admitted, "but what if you hid inside a High Council carriage?"

The air in the room shifted, and Stick narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute…

"None of the lords in the capital would leave on a Sunday," Becket continued smoothly. "They're too entitled for that. The guards wouldn't know, though. With a Praetorian driving, no one would dare question what's inside."

Stick's frown faded as the idea clicked. "So we just hide in the carriage? That's… actually not bad."

"That's a terrible idea," Nakamura shot back, crossing his arms. "We don't even know what the guards know. And a carriage like that? Way too flashy. Might as well paint a target on our backs."

"You only need to get as far as the tunnel," Becket argued. "You could reach it before nightfall. Once you're through to the other side, no one will see you. Trick the guards at the gate, and you're practically home free. You can disappear into the Goblin King's Steppes."

"Yes, but still…" Nakamura's brow furrowed in doubt. "How do we even get the carriage?"

Becket's faint smile was almost too confident. "Don't worry. I know where it's parked—and I can get it here without being seen."

Shadis shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze locking on Becket.

"You'd do that?" Stick asked, eyes widening. "Really?"

Becket shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "Sure. Besides, if the carriage disappears, there's no way I'm heading back to the Blitz Estate tomorrow. I'd get to stay in the capital a little longer. That… wouldn't be so bad."

From the corner of the room, Priscilla chuckled softly. Becket's eyes flicked toward her, but she gave no indication she'd been listening.

Nakamura bit his thumbnail, clearly torn. "It's a lot of ifs."

"How else are we supposed to leave?" Stick snapped. "We can't fight our way out—we have to bluff."

"Easy for you to say when all you have to do is hide," Nakamura retorted.

Stick faltered, the flush of frustration rising in his cheeks. He looked away, unable to come up with a response.

Becket stood, his tone firm. "You have to use the tunnel. How else are you going to get through the Black Fog?"

"The Black Fog?" Stick asked, confused.

Becket sighed, but there was no impatience in his voice. "It's a dark fog—you can't see through it. It separates the Whispering Woods from the northern leveling zones."

"Don't you know anything?" Nakamura muttered under his breath.

Stick ignored him, forcing himself to focus.

"The Whispering Woods is where players from LVLs 11 to 20 train," Becket explained, pacing now. "Monsters and quests there match those LVLs. But past the Black Fog, in the Swamp and the Highlands? That's endgame territory. LVL 40 and up, minimum. You'd be lucky to last five minutes there without dying. The Fog keeps weaker players from wandering in by accident."

"Oh." Stick's shoulders sagged, a familiar weight of inadequacy settling over him.

The game's mechanics always seemed to weigh on him. The world doesn't want you to LVL up. At least not freely. Freedom was tied to progression—but progression was controlled.

"Remember that wall of trees we passed on our way to Nova Civitas?" Becket asked.

Stick's mind jumped back to the image of the Jester tearing through the forest's defenses. "Yeah…"

"That's another one of those barriers, meant to keep LVL 1 to 10 players out of the Whispering Woods," Becket said. "Although… that wall hasn't really been necessary for a while. At least, not until now."

So the Goblin King's Steppes is where I was supposed to start?

"I see," Stick muttered. "But what about the tunnel? Isn't that a pretty big oversight?"

"The tunnel wasn't there when the game started," Nakamura said with a smirk, pride slipping into his voice. "It's one of Carnifex's engineering wonders."

"One of Lord Alastair's engineering wonders," Shadis corrected, his tone biting.

"It's true that NPCs have invented some ingenious machines," Nakamura admitted, shrugging. "But it was King Ahlgren who turned those schematics into reality."

"You're saying Alastair wouldn't have done the same?" Shadis asked, leaning forward.

"I'm saying it took a player to get it done," Nakamura replied, his voice calm but firm.

"Enough!" Stick snapped, cutting off their bickering. His hands clenched into fists. "We don't have time for this!"

Shadis fell silent, though his expression showed he wasn't satisfied. Nakamura looked like he had more to say but held back.

Still, two questions lingered in the back of Stick's mind: Was it really just a coincidence that the machines were only built after the players had arrived? And what else was Carnifex capable of shaping in this world? It seemed like some parts of this world just waited for the Players to arrive. Others, however…

He took a look at Priscilla's wrinkle-free face. He didn't finish the thought.

"So," Stick asked, forcing himself back to the present. "Are we all agreeing that taking the carriage to the tunnel is the way to go?"

"With the city on high alert, we might not get another chance," Nakamura admitted reluctantly.

"Then it's settled," Becket said. He reached for his coat, the faintest edge to his voice now. "If we're doing this, we move. Now."

Becket stood at the door, his hand on the handle.

"Nakamura, you're with me," he said, his tone brisk.

"What? Why?" Nakamura snapped, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor as he turned to face Becket.

"This whole plan hinges on whether or not you'll be recognized as a criminal. You need to test the waters," Becket said.

Nakamura scowled, his fingers curling against the armrests. "I don't take orders from Soldiers."

Stick leaned against the far wall, unable to stop himself from chiming in.

"But you're not really a Praetorian anymore, are you?" he said, his smirk sharp.

Nakamura's jaw tightened, his glare cutting across the room. For a moment, he said nothing, but the rigid set of his shoulders made his resentment clear. Finally, with a muttered curse, he shoved himself out of the chair and stalked toward the door. Before Becket could open it, Priscilla stepped forward, her movements graceful but urgent. She touched his arm, stopping him mid-motion.

"Be careful," she said softly, then pulled him into a brief but firm embrace.

Becket's expression faltered, his composure cracking for just a moment.

"Priscilla…" His voice dipped low. "There's something I need to tell you."

Her fingers lingered on his sleeve. She smiled, warm and reassuring.

"In due time, my love."

Behind them, Shadis, kneeling on the sheets he previously lay in, raised a hand to gesture Stick over. "Mr. Arslan. A word."

Stick hesitated, glancing at Becket and Nakamura by the door before stepping forward.

He started whispering as he approached. "If this is about the risk—don't. We don't have a choice. We have to trust him."

"That is not what I wanted to say," Shadis replied, shaking his head. His weathered face softened, his tone unexpectedly earnest. "I wanted to apologize."

Stick froze. "What?"