Approaching the southwestern quarter, we find torchlight flickering in an open courtyard lined by warehouses. Shouts and murmurs filter through the chill air. Remanos signals us to halt, pressing a finger to his lips. We creep closer, using a stack of crates for cover. My heart hammers with dread and anticipation. If the Senate truly stands here with orcs at dawn, it’s the final betrayal.
Peering around the crate, I spot Vaelen himself, tall and imperious in a cloak embroidered with gold. A cluster of Senate guards forms a semi-circle behind him. Opposite them, I see orcs—larger than the ones I glimpsed earlier, maybe a higher-ranked emissary. They converse in low tones, arms gesturing. Then Vaelen lifts a sealed parchment, handing it to the orc chief. The orc rumbles in approval, brandishing it triumphantly. Couldthis be the official deal that ensures they get me as a hostage? Or ensures orc infiltration?
Remanos tenses beside me, fists clenching. Freedmen exchange urgent glances. If we can expose this moment to the public, it’s proof enough that Vaelen negotiates with orcs behind Milthar’s back. But the orc chief steps aside, revealing a small retinue armed with vicious blades. The Senate guards remain unalarmed, as though expecting it. My mouth goes dry. This is no negotiation for peace; it’s a formal pledge of alliance, weapons offered in secret.
Vaelen gestures with a sly smile. I wish we had a crowd here to witness. Freedmen capturing it might not suffice without the city’s presence. We remain hidden, hearts slamming in unison. Remanos flicks a desperate glance at me, urging caution. If we charge in now, we’re outnumbered. But if we wait, they might finalize the exchange, sealing the orcs’ infiltration and dooming us all.
My pulse roars. Next to me, Remanos exhales, fighting the urge to leap out. We remain crouched, overhearing snatches of Vaelen’s smug statements: “Once we remove Remanos, the Freedmen have no champion… the orcs secure trade routes… your tribute is guaranteed.” My blood runs cold. They plan to dethrone him thoroughly, and hand the city’s Freedmen to orc exploitation. The brunt of it all is pinned on me, the scapegoat that triggered the champion’s downfall.
Tears burn along the rims of my vision. I want to scream for help, but a Freedman grips my shoulder in caution. I realize with a sick jolt how precarious this is. If we reveal ourselves now, Vaelen’s guards might kill us all. If we bide our time, orcs might slip deeper into the city by sunrise.
Remanos gently draws me back, breathing ragged. “We can’t fight them here. Let’s retreat, gather more Freedmen, bringthem to witness. Then confront Vaelen in public.” His whisper is urgent.
My heart pounds, but I nod, tears glistening. We can’t rescue Milthar alone. We must show the entire city this betrayal. Freedmen carefully back away, letting the shadows swallow us. Vaelen’s conspiratorial hisses fade, replaced by the promise of dawn. We slip into the labyrinth of alleys, fear fueling each step.
All illusions are shattered: Vaelen is forging orc infiltration to unseat Remanos, with me as the final piece. If the Senate remains blind or complicit, dawn could bring an unstoppable orc presence. My chest constricts, terror warring with a flicker of hope. Freedmen’s loyalty might be enough to rally commoners if we reveal Vaelen’s secret deals.
As we make our way back to the estate, exhaustion weighs heavily, but the adrenaline keeps me upright. The Freedmen’s eyes shine with indignation. They’ve seen enough to know a true betrayal lurks. This knowledge won’t stay hidden once dawn breaks.
At the estate gate, Remanos grips my hand. The Freedmen slip past, preparing to muster allies, or spread the word among merchant circles. He turns to me, voice thick with emotion. “We witnessed Vaelen’s final betrayal. We can’t hide. By sunrise, we gather every Freedman we can, march to the colosseum, and present the city with the truth. Force Vaelen’s hand in public.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll stand beside you. If orcs appear, we show the city who brought them in. Then they can’t pretend it’s for peace.”
He hesitates, scanning my face. “You’re risking your life, again. The orcs might target you on sight.”
My voice shakes. “If they capture me quietly, it’s all over anyway. Better to confront them openly. We’ll either break Vaelen’s hold or go down fighting.”
He draws me into a fierce hug, words muffled against my hair. “I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
My tears trickle onto his chest. “It’s not your fault. We fight because we believe Milthar deserves better.”
We cling to each other in the courtyard’s torchlight, Freedmen bustling around us. The city stirs to an ominous hush, the sky paling in the east. Dawn creeps closer, bringing a final showdown we can’t avoid. A calm descends over me, overshadowing the fear. We have nothing left but to trust each other—no illusions remain.
I gaze up at him, heart raw. “If Vaelen demands your final answer about handing me over, you stand firm?”
He nods, tears in his dark eyes. “I refuse to break. We reveal his orc deals, or we die trying.”
A quivering breath leaves my lips. I press closer, letting his warmth chase off the terror for one precious moment. “Then let’s meet them at dawn. Together.”
He nods, tail flicking in restless agitation. Freedmen gather in pockets, arming themselves. The estate bristles with tension, preparing for the city’s awakening. I grip Remanos’s hand, chest tightening. It’s terrifying, but strangely liberating: no more running, no more half-measures. The final crisis is upon us.
As the horizon glows with the faintest pink, Remanos signals the Freedmen to move. We will converge near the colosseum, where the crowd often gathers at daybreak for news or Senate announcements. If orcs and Vaelen attempt a hush-hush meeting, we’ll intercept, hopefully with a throng of Freedmen and merchants behind us. My gut twists with dread, but a stubborn spark of hope burns. This is our last shot.
We slip out the gate, Freedmen in small squads, to avoid detection. Remanos holds me close, voice low. “Stay near. If fighting breaks out, let me shield you.”
I nod, tears pricking again. Despite the fear, my soul resonates with gratitude that we stand as one, refusing to abandon each other. If the city devours us, at least we go down side by side, forging a bond they can’t sever.
We head toward the colosseum in the pre-dawn dimness, hearts pounding in unison. Every step resonates with the promise of confrontation. Vaelen’s cunning meets the Freedmen’s raw loyalty. My fingers tighten around Remanos’s, tears lingering in the corners of my eyes. All is on the line: his champion’s mantle, our freedom, the entire city’s future.
And though the darkness of the unknown weighs on me, one truth anchors my every breath: we choose to face it together, no matter how deadly the cost.
14
REMANOS
By the time I reach the Senate’s imposing forum at dawn, a crowd has gathered, an uneasy hush blanketing the enormous marble courtyard. Rows of fluted columns line the perimeter, carved reliefs of triumphant minotaur champions staring down like silent judges. The sky above is still dim, streaked with the last hints of night. My Freedmen and I remain by the courtyard’s edge, their concern radiating like a palpable force behind me. But I’ve asked them to hold back, to let me face this moment alone.
My chest feels leaden with dread. Two Senate guards in ceremonial armor wait near the entrance, their gazes locked straight ahead. They don’t prevent me from passing, but the tension in their stance warns me that I’m no longer welcomed as a champion here. I step under the grand archway, breath unsteady. In the distance, I glimpse a row of robed senators gathered on a dais, Vaelen among them, wearing smug self-satisfaction etched into his muzzle. The moment I step into the open, hushed murmurs ripple through the onlookers—some Freedmen, some ordinary citizens, and a smattering ofmerchant representatives. Their faces mirror alarm, confusion, betrayal.
