Even after twenty years, Mikos Terelian never got used to hauling stone.

By and large it had been his lot in life; the curse of being both a slave and physically powerful. He honestly could not have counted the amount of limestone blocks he had cut, loaded onto sleds, and hauled in his time. All the same, it had never been something he could do without constantly being reminded of the toll it took on his body.

He stood with ten other slaves, formed up into two lines, all dragging on their ropes as they inched forwards. Behind them and connected to the rope they hauled on was a long wooden sled. Lashed to it with stout ropes was an enormous white limestone block, half as high as Mikos stood and half again as long. The sled dragged inexorably through the thin clay that had been laid out on the trail before them.

Nadoc's estate was quite large, probably the largest estate Mikos had worked on. It ran all the way to the limestone quarry in the foothills to the west, over the stretches of scrubland that they currently trudged through, all the way out for nearly a kilometre to the east, where Mikos could see stretches of wheat fields being worked by slaves. Somewhere near the centre of it all was the stone manor house belonging to Nadoc himself, a square gleaming whitewashed miniature palace in stark contrast to a number of smaller square adobe buildings surrounding it.

Autumn was beginning to make itself known out on the estate, hovering in that uncomfortable medium where the baleful glare of the sun above still tingled his scalp at the same time as the chilly winds from across the great plains of the north bit into his exposed skin. He wiped a trickle of sweat out of his eye.

Even with nine other slaves on the ropes, Mikos' arms ached and throbbed as he pulled against the sled with all his strength. His hands seemed to burn against the ropes, and the sweat now began to pour freely down his short brown beard and chest, a huge blotch spreading over the front and back of his olive vest.

A free labourer in white tunic ran ahead of the men with a ceramic amphora, pouring water down over the clay ahead of them, the sled beginning to move a little easier as it slid over the now-slick surface. Mikos felt his centre of gravity shift as his feet slid across, arching his body to keep his footing while still hauling the block forward. Slipping was not an option; not if Mikos wanted to avoid being trampled underfoot or clubbed by one of the overseers.

The morning had seen Mikos and the rest of the slaves in the limestone quarry that had given rise to the block they now hauled. The aching his back and limbs had felt when he was compressed in the trench that had been cut between the stone blocks had not so much subsided as been simply overwritten by the aches and pains of repetitively chiselling the block loose, hauling it with the other slaves onto the sled, and then dragging it out from the quarry to the trail.

Their destination was a construction site at the boundary wall that encircled the edge of the estate. Last year it had been a log palisade, but on Nadoc's orders the wall had been replaced with a stretch of white limestone blocks identical to the one that Mikos now hauled behind him. It already stood a good three metres high.

Even now Mikos could see slaves pulling new blocks onto the top of that height, hauling them up a thick wooden wedge that had been set up to provide access to the wall from below. Other workers - mostly slaves, but a few men in the sturdier tunics and leather gloves that free Labourers could afford - were on the far end of the wall, taking hammer and chisel to etch ornamental details into the wall. Nadoc had always been one for vanity projects.

They passed a group of overseers standing atop a small outcrop, then proceeded towards the wedge set against the wall, slowly coming to a stop at its foot. A group of slaves who had been there prior to them were still working their way off the wedge onto the wall, giving them a brief respite as they awaited at the foot of the wall. Mikos turned to the other slaves, speaking up.

"Alright, gentlemen, let's get through this as quickly as we can. We might be lucky enough to score five minutes to ourselves if we can get up there before the overseers notice and issue us more orders, so the sooner we get up there, the more likely that'll happen." Mikos turned to motion to another Kalriv, "Kadic, you're with me."

Kadic was about five years younger than Mikos; still enough to be called a young man in most company. His hair had been clipped close to the scalp, with matching stubble on his face. A single scar ran along his jawline, with several more criss-crossing his arms. He nodded to Mikos and ran alongside him up the wedge, the two men pulling their ropes up behind them as they ran onto the top of the wall. As they positioned themselves, two more men ran up the ramp after them.

“Looks like Nadoc’s got a new lot,” Kadic motioned to a group of men being herded into the area by a group of free labourer guards. They wore the same drab sleeveless vests, trousers and foot wraps as Mikos and his fellow slaves, bearing scars along their arms and leathery skin from lives under the sun and years of toil. They seemed more dishevelled than the others, most with long unkempt hair and beards. Mikos and Kadic watched as they were herded up onto the other end of the wall with hammers and chisels, which they took to working the stone with.

As the other men in his crew worked themselves into place, Mikos took a moment to look out beyond the wall to the world outside the estate. It was a seemingly endless expanse of grass, interrupted occasionally with scrub, small collections of trees, and a few small rocky outcrops and buttes. A thin, unpaved dirt trail stretched out from the estate out over the plains, and somewhere beyond the horizon, Mikos knew the city of Sebel could be found.

"Enjoying the view, Terelian?" one of the guards called scornfully from the ground, brandishing his whip threateningly. Mikos resisted the urge to roll his eyes and focused his view dead forward. Half the crew had come in behind Mikos and Kadic now, while the other half had set themselves against the block. Mikos stepped back along the wall and gripped onto the rope as the crew counted down from five to one, then he hauled hard on the ropes to pull the limestone block up the wooden wedge, gritting his teeth.

Mikos stalled as two other men pushing from further below worked around him, then with a final A collective groan and a titanic effort that split the skin on his hands, they got the stone off the wedge and onto the wall. Mikos ignored the sting in his hands, adrenaline running through him as the men finally moved the block along the wall into its intended place against another row of blocks that had already been placed upon the wall.

The men looked between each other, then wordlessly to a man dropped to a sitting position atop the wall. Moments to rest on this site were few and far between, and an overseer would no doubt be along to order them to their next assignment in a matter of moments, so Mikos made the most of it, stretching his arms and legs out, feeling the pain in his limbs begin to subside.

Then, abruptly Mikos' ears were suddenly drawn by a startled shout from the far edge of the wall. He craned his head just in time to see one of the newer slaves suddenly stagger atop one of the limestone blocks he had been chipping at. Mikos could already see the fracture lines on the block and instinctively rose up to call out a warning, but with a sudden shrieking of stone, the block splintered and broke apart into three pieces, sending the slave falling back-first off the wall and into the dirt.

The two other blocks that had been supported alongside the destroyed block gave way, collapsing into the hole the first block had made with a crash and a cloud of limestone dust.

"I'd leave it, Mikos-" Kadic began, but Mikos had already broke into a lunge forward, darting down the wedge onto solid ground. He circled around another crew of slaves with another sled, then with a number of other slaves joining him he reached the scene of the accident. A gaping wound large enough to walk through had been split in the wall, and fragments of limestone lay scattered around the dirt.

A few metres away from the wreckage, Mikos could see the form of the slave who had caused the accident, who lay stunned on his back. He was breathing, and from first glance, he didn't seem to have been crushed. Unlike the other new slaves, who were disheveled and shabby, this slave’s dark hair was trimmed to chin-length and he was clean-shaven.

“Are you all right?” Mikos asked as he reached the fallen man.

The other slave opened his pale eyes, groaning stiffly as he worked his way up to a sitting position. “I think so. Just a few cuts and bruises. Could have been a lot worse I suppose…” He grasped Mikos' hand and pulled himself to his feet, swayed for a moment before restoring his balance.

You won’t be thinking that for long… Mikos thought to himself, a furious motion already coming from the edge of the quarry.

Mikos' heart sank as he made out the red trim on the tunic of the chief overseer, who was headed directly for them. Gamman Stakar was not the most pleasant Kalriv at the best of times, and the overseer’s brow was already creased with fury, his dark eyes wild as he stormed across the pit, the sun gleaming off his bald scalp. Already Mikos could see some of the other slaves scattering, not wanting to be caught in the overseer's wake when he arrived.

“What do I do?” the slave asked, eyes flitting in worry.

“There’s nothing you can do…” Mikos said, watching as Gamman roughly pushed past him and made for the slave.

“Idiot!” Gamman marched directly up to the slave and lashed out with his forearm, cracking into his jaw and snapping his head back. The slave staggered back, his eyes glassy as Gamman drew his elbow back and belted the man again. This time the slave lost his balance, his feet flying from under him as he crashed into the ground again.

“Do you have any idea what Nadoc will take from my pay for that wall? You clumsy, incompetent, worthless…” Gamman drew himself back, gritting his teeth and exhaling, controlling himself with great effort before turning to two of his underlings who had accompanied him and pointing at the slave, “Take him to the post and whip him!”

The two guards reached for the thick leather whips bound at their kilts, pulling them loose as they advanced on the slave, who was slowly getting to his feet.

“I’m sorry, overseer…” the slave began, only to wince as one of the whips cracked out, lashing him around the shoulder. Blood began to flow from the cut as the guards continued their menacing advance, Gamman watching with a mixture of fury and what seemed to be sadistic glee.

“Gamman, it was an accident…” Mikos began, stepping forward. The other slaves hissed at him, aghast, while Gamman’s eyes narrowed and Mikos felt the full force of his glare upon him.

“Do you have something to say about how I exercise discipline to unruly slaves, Terelian?”

Mikos heard murmurs from the other slaves, and felt hands on his shoulders holding him back.

"Don't," Kadic urged, having found his way over to the group, "You'll regret it."

He were correct, of course. He had already gone too far simply contradicting the overseer in front of the other slaves. If he pushed his luck, he would also be on the other end of the whip or worse. He glared back at Gamman, his clenched fists releasing, then he half-turned in disgust as the two guards seized the slave’s arms, a groan of pain escaping him as they began to haul him bodily away.

“Good to see you still know your place, Mikos,” Gamman’s voice took on a spiteful tone now before raising again, “Show is over, you lazy sacks of shit. Any slave not at their block in ten seconds can join your friend here at the whipping post. That includes you, Terelian."

The other slaves around Mikos stirred into a buzz of motion, turning back to their blocks. Mikos stared balefully back at Gamman, his single eye glaring at the overseer's and meeting the overseer's smug half-smile before he turned in disgust, stalking back towards his crew.

- - -

The rest of the day had been more of the same painful monotony; a run back to the limestone quarry, carving out yet another block, and then hauling it back onto the sled to the wall and slotting it in place. He'd repeated the process another three times before the sun had finally begun its descent under the horizon and the slaves had finally been escorted back to the slaves' compound.

The compound was a fenced-off area in the dust just beyond the houses for the free labourers, locked, gated and guarded by Nadoc's men. The slaves' dormitory building was a long rectangular building within, built of unpainted adobe bricks.

On returning, Mikos had immediately found his way to the common area, a sparse, wide space lit with the dim light of several torches mounted in on walls. A single long wooden table with two rows of benches took up most of the centre of the room before a burning hearth, where the pot of stew making up the night’s meal bubbled.

All of the estate’s slaves congregated at various points along the benches; labourers like Mikos in drab vests and pants and even a few house slaves dressed in linen tunics. Kadic sat among the house slaves - Mikos was fairly certain he was courting one of them, a young lady he was sitting beside and chatting with. A few of the groups were loudly bantering among themselves, and a few were even shuffling clay game pieces around on the table.

Mikos was in no mood to talk, sitting by himself at the far end of the bench, biting through tough, black bread, a bowl of the stew in front of him. He had been in a foul disposition since his standoff with Gamman, and an afternoon of more tough labour had not improved it. Lockdown could not have been far off now, and Mikos both yearned for the sweet respite of a night's rest and dreaded the loss of what was left of his precious little time to himself.

“Is this spot taken?”

Mikos looked up as motion across him caught his eye. One of the other slaves had moved across the table from him, he noticed with annoyance. His vision focused on them, and he spotted the face of the slave who had been whipped. The slave was not in the best of shapes. The back of his vest was spattered with dried blood from the lashes he'd been given, and his face and eye were swollen from the beating Gamman had put on him. He moved gingerly and winced with every other step; something that would not bode well for him when he was called to head back out to the quarries tomorrow.

“I suppose not.” Mikos shrugged, focusing back on his bread. The slave nodded and began to sink down onto the bench, grimacing and wincing in pain.

"Something you need?" Mikos eyed him cautiously. He'd already drawn enough attention to himself just speaking up for the man, sharing a table with him did not seem like the wisest of moves.

"I just wanted to come over and say thank you for speaking up for me," the man said, holding out his own piece of bread towards Mikos, "Here, take some of my meal."

"I wouldn't be wasting rations if I were you. You're going to need all the strength you can get tomorrow. If you think today was bad…"

"Oh." The slave's expression sank at that prospect, "They're not going to make any allowances for what happened to me, are they?"

Mikos practically laughed in the man's face at that.

"I don't know where you came from, but this is Steban Nadoc's estate. This isn't some soft-hearted Solar's house in Var Kalriv. This is a worksite for one of the roughest and richest Guardians in the Empire. We don't get easy treatment. It doesn't matter if you're in pain from whipping, if you're sick with Legionary's Bane or even-" He motioned to the black patch next to his left eye, "-if you've been maimed, you're back out on that site. Didn't you know that?"

"I- no. I've not been at an estate as harsh as that. My previous owners were a bit more… cautious with their slaves' health."

"They probably didn't have the money Nadoc has. If you don't make it through tomorrow, he'll just replace you. You're expendable to him. You'd better learn fast, because that little accident you caused today probably already has you in peril." He pushed the piece of bread back towards the man, "Now get eating, whoever you are."

"Serev. My name's Serev."

"Mikos," Mikos barely managed a shrug before focusing back on his meal, spearing a couple of thin strips of salted lamb from within the stew with a couple of wood skewers then slipped them into his mouth, chewing down and savouring the taste.

As arduous as being a labour slave was, the saving grace was that the food was always at least going to be halfway decent. He followed up lifting the bowl of stew to his lips, taking a long sip and enjoying the flood of warmth that ran through his body. Serev seemed less enthusiastic, practically toying with his bread before dipping it into the stew, taking a half-hearted mouthful.

“What if it wasn’t an accident?” Serev suddenly said out of the blue.

"What?" Mikos barely stopped eating to mumble the word, stabbing another chunk of meat.

"The collapse at the wall. What if I told you I did it on purpose?"

“I’d say you’re an idiot. What in Venderus’ name would you hope to achieve deliberately breaking that wall, save for angering Gamman, getting yourself lashed and tagging yourself as an incompetent?”

Serriv's eyes slid around the common area in a furtive glance, then he lowered his voice in a tone barely above a whisper, "Have you heard of Liberty's Eclipse?"

Mikos was the next to glance around their surroundings, searching for anybody close enough to overhear the conversation. He breathed out slowly as he replied.

"Be very careful who you mention that name to in here. One overseer wanting clout, one free labourer wanting a pay rise or one slave wanting extra rations hears you and-"

"I'll take that as a yes. Let me be as clear as I can with you. The Eclipse is encamped a few kilometres away from this estate. They are currently casing a number of Kalriv estates in the area for raids. They have decided the Nadoc estate is a suitable target.”

“How do you know this?’

“I am one of them, that’s how I know.”

It made sense, of course. Serev had looked just a little too clean to be a seasoned labour slave; the shorter hair, the clean shave, the lack of any signs of recent wounds save for the whips they’d taken to him today. Twin feelings of unease and faint hope began to churn in Mikos’ gut, but he said nothing as Serev continued.

“You’ve probably put it together, but I’m not a slave - not any more. I work for the Eclipse as an advance scout and saboteur of sorts. It’s easy enough to embed one more man in a group of slaves, and Nadoc’s administrator was none the wiser. What you saw at the boundary wall may have seemed like the act of an incompetent worker or a random accident, but in truth, I intended to split those stones and break that gap in the wall. It is key to the operation.“

“What operation?”

“Late tonight, a force of Eclipse raiders is going to come straight through that wall. They are going to attack the estate, free the slaves, and steal as much of Nadoc’s resources as they can carry. Then they’ll burn the rest.”

The twin feelings in Mikos’ gut suddenly flared up even harder, and he felt almost like he was in a dream hearing those words. Rescue? That was never a possibility to a Kalriv slave. Mikos had been born into bondage and he would die in bondage, that was indisputable and he had made a resentful peace with it a long time ago. For all the hate he held for Gamman and Nadoc, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. But now, the faintest flickers of belief and hope lit up in him, tried as he might to subdue it.

"That's not going to work. Gamman's already had guards posted around the gap in the wall."

"Yes; to keep slaves from escaping through the gap. I don't think those guards are going to be expecting armed raiders to be upon them in the dead of night, do you?"

Mikos frowned. The guards certainly would not have been prepared to deal with an infiltration. Nadoc's bodyguards may have, but with Nadoc away from the estate…

"All right. Let's say I believe you. Why would you trust me with this? What makes you think I won't just go running to Gamman and raise the alarm?"

Serev barked out a laugh at that before lowering his voice again.

"I don't think so. You despise that man. It's radiating off you. And I would wager by extension you despise Nadoc, this estate, and I also would wager you despise being a slave."

"That's hardly a risky wager. Everybody hates being a slave."

“All the more reason to expect the odds to be on our side. I don’t think very many of these slaves are going to try to stop us breaking them out, do you?”

"It's too risky, Serev. I won't say anything, but I'm not going to put my neck out for you either. You're right, I despise being a slave, but I don't despise it so much as to want to die to get out of it."

Mikos watched the slave cautiously, gauging the impact of his words and scanning Serev's face for any tell-tale signs of imminent violence. His face was unreadable as he seemed to roll Mikos' words around in his head, then he sighed in resignation and slouched back.

"Suit yourself. It is your life to risk or not risk, and I do appreciate your discretion. If you change your mind, the offer to help is always open. We could use more people like yourself in the fight."

They said little else for the rest of the meal, the two men sitting awkwardly at the table, Serev continuing to toy with his food. After a few more minutes passed, a loud voice echoed around the common room as one of the guards stepped in from outside, rapping his bronze mace against the wall with a clang that caught the room's attention.

"Alright, slaves, wrap it up and head to your pens. We're locking down in five minutes."

Some of the slaves moved right away, stalking away from the table towards the pens - square rooms lining the edge of the common area, sealed off by individual gates of copper bars. Others talked faster, seizing their last few moments before lockdown.

"I'm going to sleep. I strongly suggest you do too. You're going to need every moment of it you can get."

"I suppose we'll talk tomorrow, eh?" Serev raised his brows with a grin as if at some private joke in his mind. Mikos simply grunted, rising from the table and stepping away.

He made his way into his own pen, a bare-bones cell with a pallet, a thin wool blanket and just enough room to walk around in. He curled his legs underneath him as he sat on the pallet, hearing the sound of doors being bolted shut. Finally, one of the guards came past his own door, barely regarding him as he locked the pen door.

After a few more minutes, the torches in the common area began to wink out one by one until only the dim light of the hearth was left. Mikos shifted on the pallet, then lay back and folded his arms behind his head. It was not long before he disappeared into the dark of sleep and dreams of freedom.

- - -

Mikos did not know how long he had slept for when he found himself roused abruptly. He squinted his eyes, the deep fog of sleep still clouding his mind as he struggled up to a half-sitting position.

The common area was still dark, and no light seemed to be coming in from the outside. The hearth still smouldered just at the edge of Mikos’ vision, allowing him to make out shadowy movements from beyond his cell. It was his hearing that had captured his attention the most, however. Echoing from what sounded like outside the common area was the sounds of muffled voices barking exclamations, along with a few clanging sounds like metal on metal.

“Mikos? Are you awake?” The voice was thin and quiet, but Mikos could make it out, coming from the pen opposite his. He stood up and crossed to the doors of the pen, looking against the iron bars. One of the other slaves was against his own door; an older, thinner slave with receding grey hair.

“Kirom? What in Annihilation’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I woke up about five minutes ago. There was some shouting, and then that clanging, like-“ Kirom paused as another series of metallic clangs echoed, sounding closer this time, “-like that.”

“Probably just the guards having too much to drink and brawling,” Mikos said. Within his mind, however, he found himself thinking back to Serev’s words. Could the man have actually been telling the truth? He thought, then suddenly a loud shout disrupted him.

“Guards! Guar-“ The voice cut off suddenly in a muffled groan, followed by a metallic clattering. Mikos watched in silence, stepping back against the wall of the pen, his shoulders squared as he waited to see what would happen next. Then a woman emerged from the shadows to the front of Mikos' door. From first look, Mikos could immediately tell this woman was no slave. She wore a thick leather jerkin over a black long-sleeved tunic, her pale blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she held a sword with a leaf-shaped bronze blade in her hand.

Kalriv women didn't fight. Or at least that was what Mikos was led to believe.

"Enjoying the view?" the woman said, a brow raising over one green eye. Mikos blinked and shook his head.

"Uh… no. Not exactly. Who in Annihilation are you?"

"Your way out of here," Without any further elaboration, the young woman produced a series of thin copper prongs, and began working on the lock that sealed Mikos in his pen.

"Mikos? What's going on?" Kirom called from somewhere in the darkness.

"You're about to find out," the woman called back in response. A clicking sound came from the door of the pen, followed by a dull creaking as the woman pulled it open.

"So Serev was actually right…" Mikos said to nobody in particular, still trying to make sense of what was just happening. The woman just stared at him.

"Well? Get gone!" With that said, she stalked away from the pen door and moved across the common area. Mikos stepped forward into a jog, passing out the door into the common area.

The first thing he'd noticed were a number of the other pen doors to his left wide open, the cells empty. He did not know how he'd managed to sleep through it, but the woman had clearly been busy freeing others before him. His gaze came to a quick freeze as he suddenly noticed a figure face-down on the stone slabs that made up the floor. Judging by the white tunic with green trim, it was one of the guards. He did not seem to be moving at all, and a small pool of crimson was forming by his side.

"You killed the guards?" Mikos asked, looking around.

"I didn't exactly have a choice. I thought I told you to get gone?" the woman replied. Mikos heard another click suddenly, and another creaking of the door before Kirom hobbled out into the common room, a bright smile on his face.

"Why thank you, young lady! This is rather fortuitous, isn't it?"

"Something like that," she said before looking over towards the other cells, "I have more work to do. You," she called out to Mikos, "Can you take him with you?"

"I don't have a sword," Mikos said, "What if we run into guards?"

"You have a warehouse, don't you? Loot something."

Before Mikos could reply, the woman stalked off towards the other pens, working on another door. Mikos and Kirom shared one look between each other, then they broke into a jog towards the doorway at the far end of the dormitory building. Mikos leaned against the wall, craning his head to peer outside.

Outside the slaves' compound, Mikos could see that the fence had been broken inwards, the gate lying in pieces on the ground. The firepit that always stood burning out the front of the building was still roaring away, but the four sentries that usually stood guard lay scattered around it. Three of them were still and not moving, while another appeared to be breathing but unconscious, arms and legs bound. Mikos nodded to Kirom, then the two passed through the door.

"Did she do that to all of them?" Kirom blinked as they stepped out into the yard, shivering at the cooler temperatures of the night.

"So it would seem."

"But… women aren't fighters."

"Evidently we've been misinformed about a few things," Mikos remarked dryly. He spotted what he was looking for off to the side of the compound. A small, one-room cube-shaped adobe building stood there- a storehouse of implements for field slaves, Mikos knew.

"Keep an eye out for me and yell if you get into trouble," Mikos told Kirom before stepping into the storehouse.

It was dim inside, with the only real light coming from the bonfire outside. Still, that was enough to allow him to at least see a few things. He took a couple of torches wrapped with oil-soaked rags, then stepped back outside, tossing one of the torches to Kirom and lighting the other in the bonfire. He ran back into the storeroom, now much more clearly able to see the items on the various shelves.

He grabbed a sickle, then his eyes fell on a falx that was on a rack with some of the other implements. It was a farming implement, not a weapon, but the wooden haft and long, curved single-edged bronze blade would serve as one in a pinch, and could likely cut through flesh just as well as wood and grain. He pulled it off the wall and slung it in place over his back, then jogged out of the storeroom.

"Think you can use this?" Mikos held the sickle out to Kirom, handle out. The old man took it in his hand, slicing through the air a couple of times.

"Not well, I fear. But it will do."

"Good. Let's move - quietly."

The estate grounds were treacherous in the dark, and Mikos knew immediately that they would need some form of light to move safely, even if it raised their chances of being seen by guards. He scuffed his torch, dimming it as best he could, then moved forward at a steady jog, eyes continually searching the dirt and grass for potholes and rocks. Kirom kept up well, the old slave still quick and nimble. Even in the darkness, they could both see the collection of blinking lights coming from the central compound that housed Nadoc’s manor off in the distance.

A much closer source of light stemmed from just ahead of them, elevated about three metres above the ground; most likely a lamppost to illuminate the trail ahead and guide travellers in the dark. As Mikos got closer, he could see the stone plinth and flaming brazier that confirmed that. In the light beneath the post, Mikos could see two figures standing opposite each other - no, the small and measured movements suggested they were fighting.

He drew himself up, then motioned to Kirom to hold back. He lowered himself into a crouch, trying to stay relatively concealed, and began to approach the two combatants.

As he got closer, he could make out another of the guards, burly, scarred and wielding a crescent-shaped axe. His opponent did not wear the leathers and tunics of the raiders, but instead wore a slave’s vest and trousers. He could immediately tell by the movements of the man, however, that this was no slave. This was a man trained in how to fight.

It was Serev.

The lean slave was armed now, twirling a bronze shortspear as he faced off against a guard, ducking under an axe blow before thrusting out with the shortspear, skewering the guard, who let out a shallow cry and went limp. Serev raised his leg and kicked him off the spear, letting the body collapse into a motionless heap on the ground. Mikos motioned Kirom forward with his hand, then rose to his full height and stepped into view. Serev whirled around instinctively, spear held back, then he lowered it as he recognised him.

“I see they got you loose,” he said with a half-smile.

“What in Annihilation is going on, Serev?”

“Exactly what I said would be going on…” Serev broke his gaze to look left and right around the area in caution, “We’re letting you all out and burning this place down.” His eyes fell on Kirom, who had just emerged from his concealed spot to step alongside Mikos, "What are you doing out here, elder? It's not safe for you to be running around."

“One of your friends freed Mikos and I from our pens.” Kirom answered.

“She needed to free the rest of the slaves to told us to head for the manor. She asked me to keep Kirom here out of harm’s way, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Serev threw his free hand in the air, scoffing.

"Amateurs. I specifically told them to keep children and the elderly out of harm's way." He frowned, thinking, then turned to Mikos, "Can you move on your own? I've got to get your friend here somewhere safe - there are still guards out there and they are losing this fight so badly that they might just start killing anything they see, including slaves."

"I suppose I can, but what are we dealing with out there? If I run into a whole contingent of guards…"

"We have the situation mostly under control. The manor's already been cleared of enemies and under our control, and we've defeated most of the guards. They're not all accounted for, though. I'm not going to lie, you could face a small amount of resistance out there. Stay out of sight, and if you're seen, run. I'll try to catch up with you, but if you can keep a low profile and get to the manor, you should be home free."

“Do I have to worry about your friends attacking me?”

“No. They’re here to free slaves, not kill them. Now get moving! I'll catch up with you once I get your friend to safety."

Mikos nodded and began to step away as Serev led Kirom away, then burst into a jog through the darkness of the estate. Along the side of the trail, Mikos could see the small cube-shaped homes belonging to the free labourers; some made of adobe, others wood. Most of them seemed to be abandoned, and no lights came from within. Either the raiders had found them and attacked, or the workers had left once they were aware of the raid. It was of little consequence to Mikos as he ran past them. He rounded a corner on the trail, then he suddenly drew himself up short as he spotted motion.

Out the front of one of the buildings, a low campfire was still burning, and Mikos could see a raider – another woman - facing off against two guards. She was equipped in a more distinct fashion than the other raiders, with a gleaming coat of bronze scales over her tunic and pants rather than the leather jerkins Mikos had seen the others wear. At first Mikos thought she wielded a staff in her hands, then as he looked closer, he could see that it was a sword with two blades stemming from the grip rather than one. She danced back out of the range of one of the guards who clumsily swung at her with his sword, then lunged in to drive her blade into the guard's chest, kicking him off.

Mikos looked behind him. Serev was still nowhere to be seen. He stood just out of sight, then watched as the woman turned to face the other guard just a moment too late, swinging a thick bronze-headed stone hammer straight into her scales, bashing them loose. The wind flew out of her and she fell back onto the ground, landing with a hard thud.

Serev, where in Annihilation are you… Mikos thought from his concealed spot.

The guard took one look down at the woman lying in the dirt - still somehow conscious, twitching and trying to get her feet beneath her. A grim smile crossed his face as he raised his hammer, poised to strike.

Then Mikos cut him down with his falx.

It had not even seemed to be a conscious decision when Mikos surged forward. One moment he was watching the guard stand over the woman and the next he had brought the curved blade down in a slashing arc, slicing through the guard’s his tunic and biting into his back. A shocked cry escaped the guard as blood began to slow out and soak his tunic, and then teetered face-first into the ground, crashing mere centimetres from the woman. Mikos averted his eyes from the fallen guard as he moved forward. He could not know if the man was dead or alive; not now.

He moved over to the raider woman. She was still conscious and did not appear to be severely wounded, although she did wince in pain and her scale coat had been all but shattered in the front. She tapped her fingers along her front, wincing at a few sore spots, then looked up as Mikos offered his hand down.

"Much obliged, comrade," she said, grasping his hand and pulling herself up to her feet. Her pale hair was flecked with streaks of grey, and her still-alert pale blue eyes were lined at the corners. Despite her age however, she was still lean and well-muscled; more athletic than most of the slave women Mikos had known, and she seemed to be nearly as tall as he was.

She reached down towards the haft of her twin-bladed sword, pulling it up. The man Mikos had brought down still lay face-down in the gravel, blood tricking out from the wound Mikos had cut into him. Mikos kneeled next to him, gingerly reaching out to turn him over. The man’s eyes stared vacantly into the night, his face frozen in a grimace.

Mikos had always wondered if he could kill a man, and what he would feel when the time came. Would he feel crushing guilt and revulsion at what he had done, or a sick thrill at the act of taking a life? As it turned out, he still did not know how he would feel. The pounding of his own blood in his head, along with the surging adrenaline in his arms and legs and the urge to look everywhere all at once overrode anything he could have felt. Whatever it did stir in him, he would have to come to terms with it later.

“I wouldn’t bother, he’s dead,” the woman stated the obvious, stepping beside him, “and I wouldn’t shed any tears for him either. The man had it coming.”

It was hard for Mikos to argue otherwise. He’d seen that guard beat enough slaves almost to death to know he was cruel at best. He stepped back up, reaching up to sling his falx.

“I wouldn’t,” the woman said.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t wander around here without your weapon drawn. We are not out of the woods yet.” The woman looked at something behind Mikos, her head tilting upwards almost like a nod. Mikos whirled around just in time to see Serev running along the trail.

"I see the 'keep a low profile' advice didn't quite take," he remarked as he approached, "But for the best, it would seem."

"Where have you been?" the woman demanded, hand on her hip.

"Apologies, Maressja," Serev craned his head to Mikos, "Had to get a noncombatant to safety."

Mikos blinked at the name, "Maressja? You're Maressja Eclipse?"

Maressja Eclipse was a name that was known almost as well as Liberty's Eclipse itself even among the slaves on the estate. The realisation he had just rescued the legendary leader of the raider band entered his mind; something that would have put a target on his head even more than killing a free Kalriv would have.

"I don't really have time for a meet and greet," Maressja sighed, motioning further along the trail to the twinkling lights of the manor and the buildings surrounding it off in the distance, "I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have once we've made it to the manor, but we need to get moving."

Mikos nodded at that, and he and Serev formed up on each side of Maressja, the three jogging further through the trail again. It was no more than a few more minutes than they finally found themselves before the manor compound itself.

The compound’s entrance was surrounded by two walls; a small, hip-height stone wall, and fifteen metres beyond was a much taller palisade of logs that had been sharpened to a point. Flames rose from two braziers set off to the side, illuminating the area in front of the gate. Maressja signalled Serev and Mikos to come to a stop, then with a couple of glances she made motion to a spot directly in front of the gate.

Two of the raiders lay dead before the gate. That alone sent a cold chill through Mikos’ shoulders - so far none of the guards had been a match for the raiders, and to see two of them suddenly dead was a sobering sight. Three men stood in front of the gate; two of them were broad-shouldered, grim-looking guards, one with a crescent axe, the other with a leaf-bladed sword. They both wore leather vests over their tunics. The man in the middle was unarmoured, wearing a white-trimmed green cloak over his white tunic and loose canvas trousers under. It was a man Mikos knew well.

“Gamman,” Mikos growled.

“We’ve already taken the manor,” Maressja whispered, looking over at the three men, “How did they manage to get back over there?”

“I’m a little more concerned with how they managed to take out our people,” Serev said, his eyes focusing on the sight ahead, “I don’t think they’ve managed to take back the manor compound, but it seems they’re doing their best to keep the rest of the slaves out.”

“Gamman’s the type to do that.” Mikos said, “The man’s a prick.”

“A prick we’re going to have to do something about,” Maressja said, “How do we want to do this? I don’t like the idea of taking them head-on, but we may not have much of a choice.”

“Hear me out. Let me go out there first.”

“Not a good idea,” Serev frowned, “If they took down two of ours, they know what they’re doing. They’ll try to kill you on sight.”

“Gamman won’t. He won’t be able to help himself. Besides, this will help you. I’ll draw their attention, while you two go onto the far sides of that wall,” Mikos motioned to the lower stone wall, “If you can stay out of sight, you should be able to get the drop on the guards, and I’ll handle Gamman.”

“It’s still an unnecessary risk to yourself,” Maressja objected.

“Oh, no.” Mikos’ lips lifted into a bleak half-smile, “This is absolutely necessary for me to do.”

Without waiting to hear any further objection, he stepped forward from the two of them, adjusting his eyepatch and straightening his vest, then moved out into the illuminated section of the trail. He casually strode through the gap between the stone wall, then directly in front of the palisade gate. The two guards immediately raised their weapons in shock, and Gamman’s eyes widened briefly before an oily smirk set in.

“It’s all right, I’ll handle this…” Gamman stepped forward, his two guards fanning out behind him as he continued to smirk at Mikos, “You seem to be hellbent on making my life difficult today, Terelian.”

For the first time, Mikos felt the oppressive weight that had usually held his mouth closed when Gamman spoke lifting. He managed to lift his lips into a small grin as he looked across at his hated overseer.

“What do you plan to do about it, Gamman?” He spat the words back at Gamman defiantly. Gamman had used those very same words to him many times when exerting his own will over the slaves, whenever he sensed even the slightest spark of self-defence in them. To throw it back in his face was elating.

“Very droll, Mikos. I hope you enjoyed your moment to talk back to your betters. It’s your last.” He turned to the two guards behind him, “Kill him.”

Serev was suddenly there, seeming to flash over the top of the small fence and come barrelling at the gate from the left. He hit the ground running, his shortspear lashing out to divert the left guard’s sword, then stabbed back at the guard, missing his throat by inches. Mikos turned to face the guard with the axe, gripping the haft of his falx to try to anticipate the guard’s approach, then suddenly Maressja was over the fence after Serev, sprinting at the guard. The guard turned away from Mikos as one of Maressja’s twin-blades spun at him, hopping backwards and deflecting her blade with his axe.

Mikos and Gamman both turned to face each other as the raiders and guards fought each other. Mikos’ steely gaze locked on to Gamman’s dark eyes, then both men sprung into action, darting at each other. Mikos was faster, the full force of his broad shoulders and well-muscled trunk battering into Gamman with a satisfying crash.

The overseer staggered back, stunned by the blow, then reached for the knife at his belt and whipped it loose, coming at Mikos again. Mikos side-stepped him and rocked him with a forearm to the jaw, then stepped in, sliding his leg to knock Gamman's out from underneath him, shifting his weight over his hip to hurl Gamman bodily to the ground. The knife went skittering away into the darkness. Over his shoulder, Mikos could see the two guards down on the ground as Maressja kneeled over one, Serev standing over the other.

Gamman growled and rolled to get his feet under him, then Mikos rammed his knee into the overseer's face, knocking him back flat onto the ground. When Gamman tried to push up again, Mikos reached over his shoulder and unslung his falx, the curved blade pointing into Gamman's throat. Gamman's eyes widened, then he stiffened and lay still, staring up at him.

"Well, isn't this just an interesting turn of events," Mikos said, looming above Gamman, "I bet you weren't expecting to be on the other end of a fist for once when you crawled out of your bed this morning, did you, Gamman?"

"Just- don't do anything hasty, Mikos," Gamman's eyes widened again as he began to understand the situation he had just found himself in, "There's no need for violence."

"Ah yes, like there was need to have Serev beaten to within an inch of his life for a mistake? Like there's been need to have people lashed for not meeting their quotas? Like there's been need for you continually belittling and degrading the people who keep you eating - like they're a lower form of life?"

"You are a l-" Gamman's voice croaked as Mikos deliberately pressed the blade lightly against his throat, just enough to scrape the skin and, and he seemed to collect himself, "All right. I see your point. Perhaps we have been heavy handed with you. But this can all change. It's not too late to fix this, you know. I can smooth this over with Nadoc. We can say bandits did it. I can put in a good word for you and say you helped defend the estate. I can even advocate for better treatment for you - more rations. No more whipping. Maybe even a chance at freedom."

"It's interesting that only now, when your back is against the wall, do you start treating me like a human being," Mikos lifted the blade from Gamman's throat, moving to pace to the left slightly, the falx blade still pointing at Gamman as he walked.

"I suppose having a crisis of conscience can do that for a man," Gamman managed to laugh nervously.

"I don't know if I'd call it a crisis of conscience, Gamman. You're just a coward, really. You mistreat people who are weaker than you because you think it's your right. Sure, you'd treat me right - because you know ultimately I can kill you if you piss me off hard enough now. But it won't end with me, will it, Gamman? There'll be new slaves coming into the estate, and I know you, the second you can look good to Nadoc, you'll start degrading your slaves, talking to them like they're garbage, start making threats."

"Then there'll come the beatings, and then the whippings, and then you'll go back to being the same piece of scum you've always been." Mikos shook his head and turned back to Gamman, "You don't deserve to live."

Mikos lifted his falx again as he walked back over to Gamman, gripping the haft in two hands and raising it grimly. Gamman's voice cracked out, urgent and high-pitched as he tried to scrabble back.

"If you kill me, you'll be a wanted man! Word of what you've done will leave here, and when Nadoc finds out, they won't just send his guards after you. The Kalriv Legions will hunt you down and they'll stake you out to face Venderus' judgement!"

Mikos just laughed at that.

"Unfortunately for you, I've already killed someone today, Gamman. I'm already a wanted man. Do you really think taking your worthless life is going to imperil me any more than I already am? No. You won't even be missed." Mikos ignored Gamman's alarmed shriek as the full force of his muscles brought the falx blade down.

At the last moment, Mikos shifted his stance, and the falx blade struck the dirt just right of Gamman's torso. His eyes were wide in shock, and his hands were held up as if to try to ward off the blade. Mikos looked down at him, eyeing him in contempt, then lifted the falx back up.

"Fortunately, you're now so insignificant to me that killing you isn't even worth the effort. So I'm going to leave you here, in your misery, and you can explain your failure-" He raised his voice as if to hammer that word home harder, "-to Nadoc when he returns. Let's see if he thinks your work was good enough." He re-slung the falx over his back and wheeled on his heel, stepping away and ignoring the cursing and blustering of his former overseer.

Maressja and Serev were both awaiting Mikos now. Serev appeared to have yet another cut in his arm, but he barely seemed to notice it even as it dripped blood over his biceps.

“You took care of Gamman, I see," Serev said, "I'm surprised you let him live. He didn't deserve to."

"I know, but ultimately the man's unarmed and beaten. There's no point to me killing him."

"You're a bigger man than me. I would have killed him. I still might."

Mikos shrugged, "If that's what you feel you have to do. He's of no consequence to me anymore."

Serev stepped towards the fallen Gamman, a bleak expression on his face, then he casually rapped him over the head with the blunt end of his shortspear. Gamman’s eyes glazed, then Serev set about slicing strips of fabric from the man’s tunic, fashioning them into rudimentary bindings.

“You get your wish,” he said, turning to Mikos, “He lives.”

“He lives shamed,” Mikos added, “Trust me, it’s worse for him.”

They faced no further opposition as they worked their way along the trail, passing through the he palisade gate. Before long, they found themselves stepping onto a long stretch of stone paving slabs. The sight of warehouses became more and more frequent, and Mikos began to see other slaves accompanied by raiders encroaching on the grounds outside Nadoc's mansion. Finally, they began to see scattered crowds and the lights of torches as they reached the grounds.

In his years on the estate, Mikos had never been permitted to come this close to Nadoc's mansion. Labour and field slaves had no business working in there, and Nadoc was not the kind of man to address his slaves en masse. He took a moment to look up at awe at the building. Even in the dead of night, the large rectangular building was a marvel.

The walls were of whitewashed stone with arch-shaped windows carved into them. Two massive cedar doors were set in the rectangular building's centre behind a polished veranda, lined with thick rectangular pillars to hold up the roof. Intricate frescoes of battles featuring spear-and-shield-wielding heroes of old - no doubt Nadoc's ancestors - were painted on the flat parapet of the roof. Polished stone steps with two flat bannisters running alongside connected the grounds to the veranda.

Four raiders stood before the doors, holding a thick wooden log that they swung back and battered into the doors at repeated intervals before they finally buckled and broke inwards. With a single nod, Maressja stepped away to a group of raiders, talking to them and making gestures at various areas, including some warehouses and some of the stables at the far end of the yard, then stepped up the stairs and between the doors of the manor, disappearing inside.

More slaves began to trickle into the area in larger and larger groups, until eventually Mikos could see what must have been the entire stable of slaves massed out the front of the manor. He could see his own fellow labour slaves among the crowd, along with the field workers and even the house slaves. Finally, a squad of the raiders marched into the square, hauling several tied Kalriv in front of them; mostly the Labourer caste overseers and guards, but Mikos could even make out a few Kalriv in much finer linen tunics and cloaks - Nadoc's own associates and friends, Mikos surmised.

"What happens to them?" Mikos asked Serev.

"We brand them all and sell them to the slavers," Serev paused for a few moments, then suddenly burst out laughing, "The look on your face. No, look. It's going to depend on who they are and what their involvement is. We'll let most of the freed workers go in peace. They haven't done anything wrong. The rest - Nadoc's friends, his family who have been complicit in this and traitors like Gamman? They'll be blindfolded and tied and left in a storeroom somewhere until Nadoc or the Legions find their way here."

"That could be days away."

"Oh, it's fine. They're usually feeling very sorry for themselves by the time they're rescued, but they're usually none the worse for wear. Usually." Serev's lips broadened into a grin, "We will rob them blind, however. Consider it compensation for lost wages."

"I can live with that."

After the prisoners had been herded towards several of the overseers' houses and locked in, Maressja emerged from the inside of Nadoc's manor and stepped out to the veranda. Once she reached the head of the stairs, she turned to survey the entire crowd and spoke, her voice echoing into the cold night.

"Former slaves of the Nadoc Estate. You're most likely confused at the events that have taken place here tonight. I imagine some of you are probably also afraid. The first thing I would like to tell you is that you don't have to be afraid- not anymore."

The crowd watched her, some of the slaves breathing out visible sighs of relief and relaxation, while others watched with suspicion and caution on their faces.

"My name is Maressja Eclipse. The men and women who have come here tonight are my followers- Liberty's Eclipse. That name may mean something to some of you, and for those who it does not, I will explain. We are, all of us, like you - former slaves of the Kalriv Empire."

"Each of the fighters you have seen here tonight was once toiling in a limestone quarry, or endlessly planting and harvesting crops in a field, or cleaning one of these manor houses like the ones you see before you. The one thing they have in common - the one thing we all have in common - is that they did this for no pay, they did this with no agency, they were treated with no dignity. They were property to be exploited and abused by brutal Guardians and lazy Solars."

"Not a bad orator, is she?" Serev said to Mikos.

"Orawhat?"

"Orator. Speaker." Serev fell quiet as Maressja continued to address the crowd.

"Each and every one of these fighters made a decision one day. They decided to reject being a plaything of the Guardians and Solars. They decided that if they would not be given their freedom and their dignity, then they would take it. And then one day, they - and I - decided that not only would we take that freedom for ourselves, but we would give it to others like us. That is our purpose now - what our purpose was this evening."

Awfully flowery way to describe banditry… Mikos thought to himself, his lips quirking into a smirk. Serev raised a brow but said nothing. The crowd began to buzz, some of the slaves speaking among themselves. Despite his cynicism, Mikos couldn't help but take notice of the air of hope that began to spread among the crowd.

"Tonight, you are no longer slaves of the Kalriv Empire. You are your own men, women, and people, and you answer solely to the sun above - nobody else. You are free!"

The excited murmurs from the crowd became cheers, as more smiles and looks of exultation began to cross the faces of the slaves in the crowd. Mikos even had to admit to himself that it was a welcome change to see airs of optimism begin to replace the sense of resignation and hopelessness he had seen in those faces all too many times before.

"We will remain here for the next couple of hours to collect supplies and equipment from this estate. However, we are not simply raiders fattening our own wares. Any of you who have been rescued tonight may take anything from this estate that you need; providing you leave enough for others. After we have collected what we need, we will be leaving and returning to our encampment. You will receive safe passage there. Once we have put enough distance between us and this place, you can go your own way, or you can follow us until we reach a safe haven."

"And suppose we decide otherwise?" That voice came from somewhere amongst the mass of slaves - Mikos could not see whoever it was, but the voice was male, "Let me guess, we go with you or we don't go at all, right?"

Maressja looked steadily out at the crowd, “We're not in the business of taking prisoners. If you don't want to come with us, you don't have to. However, I need to make one thing perfectly clear- they will be looking for you. Not just Steban Nadoc and his people, but at some point, the garrison at Sebel is going to become involved. The Kalriv Legions are not to be trifled with and are not kind with runaway slaves. We've been running from them long enough to know how to avoid them, and we have some capacity to protect you."

"Ultimately, the decision is yours. Consider what you wish to do; but know we must be gone before dawn."

She stepped down from the steps back towards the ground. Some of the crowd began to cheer and begin excitedly scurrying into action, while others simply seemed to stand there as if wondering if they were in the middle of a dream. Mikos, for his part, simply watched.

The next two hours seemed to pass in a blur, with escaped slaves running every which way throughout the estate; some carrying grain and clothing, others with farm implements and stoneworkers' tools. A few cheeky individuals had even made their way off with silver and trinkets from within the manor house itself. All the while, Maressja's men and women moved with much more organised efficiency, collecting leather, weapons, textiles, barrels and bushels and loading them onto wagons which had been brought out from the stables.

Mikos for his part did not take much beyond a few days' supply of food, a waterskin and a long leather coat he wore over his vest and trousers. He kept the falx he had taken from the warehouse, leaving it slung across his shoulders, and spent most of his time idly waiting with the wagons, watching everybody go about their business.

"Mikos," Maressja said, waving him over from where she stood in front of the lead wagon in the procession, "A moment?"

He nodded and stepped towards Maressja, circling around the wagon before coming up to her.

"We're about to send the first lot of wagons back to our encampment. I need to keep most of my men and women here to guard the slaves until everybody is clear, but I need people I can trust to defend the first convoy. You've proven handy enough with that falx of yours. Guard one of the wagons, and you can be one of the first to get back to our base."

"Level with me, Maressja. Are you actually going to just let all of us wander off once the heat's disappeared?"

"Yes. Even beyond the idea that they are entitled to go their own way, the truth of the matter is that we are not a wandering tribe. We are a militia at the end of the day. Ultimately most of these escaped slaves won't be of much help to the cause, and they certainly won't want to remain here. We'll trickle them in at a few towns and cities a fair distance from Sebel. We have contacts who can help them pass for Kalriv citizens; labourers mainly."

She paused, then eyed him in speculation, "You, on the other hand- I'm thinking you could be of use to the Eclipse. You're clearly able to handle yourself in a fight, and Serev says you seem to have enough of a head to see the bigger picture. I don't expect you to make a decision now, but I would like you to return to our headquarters and see how you go."

"With respect, Lady Eclipse, you don't even know me."

"You saved my life. That's earned you a place as far as I am concerned." She quirked a brow, "And it's not 'Lady' anything. My name is Maressja. Or you can call me Comrade Eclipse, if you must. Your days of calling anybody your lord or lady are over, Mikos."

Out the corner of his eye, Mikos could see Kirom sitting atop one of the wagons further down the line. The old man practically beamed from ear to ear and looked like he was having the time of his life, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around the rest of the compound.

“Suppose I decided not to go with you?” Mikos asked, “Were you on the level with that too? You’ll just let me walk away?”

“Yes. It’s up to you but walking out here alone is a death sentence. Sooner or later, someone will get loose, and then Gamman will raise the alarm, and he knows you’ve killed a free Kalriv. They will hunt you, and your description will be carved on a tablet in every settlement for fifty kilometres. They’ll kill you if you get caught, and it won’t be pretty.”

It was then that Mikos made his first decision as master of his own fate.

“All right.”

Mikos moved over to the wagon and climbed up, hauling himself into the back beside a raider and a crate of bronze farming implements. Serev crossed over to the wagon, hopping up into the driver’s seat, then stirred the horses into motion. The wagon began lurching forward, rumbling and rattling below Mikos as they began their journey into the unknown.

Mikos took a final look back at the estate. Smoke was beginning to billow out from the manor’s windows now, and as he looked closer, he could begin to see licks of orange flame coming from within. Serev had not been joking about burning the place down, he surmised; although he questioned how far they would get in a building of stone.

The days ahead were uncertain for him. He had known nothing but life as a slave, even as a child. He had never been free. He had never even planned for this day because he had known – or thought he had known – that the day would never come. Before today it was easy for him to know what to do, because the decision of what he would do in his day-to-day life was never his. Now all of a sudden, a million possibilities and ideas and decisions stretched out before him. It was terrifying and liberating in equal measure.

Still, he thought to himself as the wagon rode away from Nadoc’s manor and away from what had used to be his life, whatever came next would be his decision, and no man else’s.