A chorus of agreement resonates. Freedmen’s eyes glow with determination, some crafters brandish improvised weapons. Despite the lurking dread, a flicker of hope sparks. We have unity, we have a cause, and for now, that’s enough.
As night deepens, Freedmen and crafters spread across southwestern streets, setting up more barricades. The orcs remain quiet for the moment, possibly regrouping after their orchard skirmish. My heart pounds with every shadow that moves, every breeze that rustles abandoned stalls. But we stand, unwavering.
I remain near Remanos, helping orchestrate watch rotations, ensuring injured Freedmen find aid. My exhaustion burns behind my eyes, yet I push on, recalling the vow I madeearlier: If the Senate won’t protect us, we’ll protect each other. Freedmen stand testament to that vow, forging a new solidarity.
As the night stretches on, tension mounts. But the orcs do not strike again—perhaps they wait for dawn’s light to launch a final assault. When the eastern sky lightens faintly, Freedmen shift nervously. Remanos calls me to his side, voice hushed, “If orcs come at sunrise, we meet them here. If the Senate tries to intervene, let them see Freedmen ready to defend the city they abandoned.”
I nod, swallowing dryness in my throat. “And if we succeed, maybe the city will realize who the real champion is, rank or no.”
He gives a ghost of a smile, tail flicking. “That’s not why I do this, but… yes. Let them see the truth.”
Freedmen muster in the gray dawn, crafters and city guard stragglers joining. Tila leads squads to the southwestern perimeter, scanning the horizon. My heart pounds in my chest.Any moment now.A hush descends, broken only by anxious hooves scraping cobblestones. The city holds its breath.
And my feet plant at the center of it all, arms trembling, pressing close to Remanos, feeling the weight of a final stand. War or not, we face it together, Freedmen as our backbone. The vow I made in the open street echoes in my mind: “If our leaders won’t protect us, we’ll protect each other.” The time to fulfill that vow is now, no matter the cost.
Light spreads across the sky, unveiling battered barricades, Freedmen’s tense faces, crafters clinging to tools-turned-weapons, and Remanos—stripped of official crest but exuding unstoppable determination. My heart squeezes with love, fear, and a sense of destiny. We can’t fail. Not while we have each other.
I inhale, preparing for whatever dawn brings, be it orc aggression or Senate betrayal. Let them come. We are no longer powerless. A city’s soul stirs behind us, Freedmen forging theirown fate. And I, once a captive scorned as a spoil, now stand as a voice that might rally them to survive. My nerves jangle, but Remanos’s presence grounds me.
In the hush before sunrise, I close my eyes and whisper a silent prayer.We stand, we fight, we protect each other.Then the first sliver of sunlight crests the eastern horizon, gilding the city’s rooftops. Freedmen stand unflinching, crafters clasping each other’s shoulders, the guard with torn ear scanning the distance. My heart drums out a single rhythm of resolve. For Milthar, for Freedmen, for Remanos, and for the vow we share: we will not yield.
16
REMANOS
The clang of distant bells echoes across Milthar as I rush through the winding corridors of my estate, Freedmen on my heels. A messenger arrived at dawn with a frantic warning: Orcs gather at the old colosseum, demanding an audience. Demanding Mira, no doubt. The news burns through me, a storm of anger and dread. Once, this city would have rallied under my call, champion’s hammer in hand, to face such a threat. Now, the Senate’s corruption has stripped me of rank. Yet Freedmen march behind me anyway, unwavering in their loyalty. The knowledge steels my spine.
We burst out into the courtyard, where squads of Freedmen wait, weapons clutched tight. Mira stands among them, eyes gleaming with fierce determination despite her clear worry. I meet her gaze, and my chest aches with gratitude. She’s not staying behind. She refuses to hide when the orcs want her as the city’s scapegoat. She’s told me as much—she’ll stand by my side or fall with me.
“Orcs in the arena?” she demands, stepping forward.
I nod, breath unsteady. “So the messenger said. They gather in large numbers, issuing an ultimatum. They want you, or theythreaten full-scale war.” A wave of cold fury washes through me, and I grit my teeth. “They must know half the Freedmen are prepared to defend you.”
Mira’s lips press into a grim line. “Then they want to force a spectacle, corner us publicly. They’re counting on the Senate bowing to them.”
Tiro, a young Freedman, approaches with a short spear in hand. “We have watchers saying Vaelen and some senators already rushed to the colosseum. Could be they plan to surrender you behind our backs.”
My jaw clenches. “Then we must get there first.” Addressing the Freedmen, I raise my voice: “Arm up. We go to the arena—if the Senate tries to hand Mira over, we stop them. If orcs threaten the city, we stand as its defenders.”
A chorus of agreement rumbles. The Freedmen form ranks, a ragged but resolute force. Mira moves to my side, pressing her palm briefly against my forearm. Our eyes meet, that unspoken vow sparking between us.We do this together.Then we set off through the city’s broad avenues. The early sunlight glints on battered shields and wooden pikes, Freedmen scanning every alley for hidden foes.
As we near the colosseum, the echo of tension intensifies. A crowd of citizens gathers along the outer walls, voices hushed and fearful. Many fear orcs more than anything else. Others crane their necks, trying to see inside. The city’s official guards hold watch at the main entrance, but they look uncertain, receiving conflicting orders from senators. When they catch sight of us, Freedmen surging in a wave, they exchange worried glances.
I stride forward, Freedmen parting around me. One guard, a junior officer with trembling hands, lifts his spear as if to bar our way. “The Senate demands only authorized persons enter.”
I lock eyes with him, noticing the sweat beading at his brow. “I was once champion. That should be enough. If Vaelen challenges me, let him do it to my face.” My voice remains calm, though a thunderous anger simmers underneath.
Mira steps beside me, hood drawn, though everyone likely knows who she is by now. Her determined stance conveys she won’t be turned away either. The guard hesitates, uncertain. Behind us, Freedmen bristle, prepared for a fight. The guard exhales, then lowers his spear. “Enter at your own risk. Orcs have demanded you, or they threaten to burn the city.”
“Then we’ll face them,” I reply, pushing past. Freedmen follow, ignoring the guard’s uneasy protest.
Inside the colosseum, the air brims with a tense hush. No cheering crowds fill the seats now—only scattered onlookers, the Senate’s retinue, and a looming orc warband occupying the sandy arena floor. My stomach twists at the sight: the once-proud colosseum, stage of countless matches I fought for honor, now a twisted battleground for the city’s surrender. Senators in ornate robes gather at the edges, Vaelen among them, sneering with smug triumph. The orcs cluster in the center, bristling with heavy axes and crude armor. One stands taller than the rest, tusks curved upward, a fierce scar crossing his brow. Likely their chieftain or emissary.
Mira inhales sharply beside me, and I sense her revulsion. Freedmen fan out around us, forming a protective circle. The orcs snarl at our approach, a low rumble of aggression. I spot Vaelen stepping forward from a dais near the stands. He raises his arms, calling for silence. The tension in the colosseum thrums like a coiled snake.
The orc chieftain speaks first, voice guttural in Common. “City of Milthar, we gave you days to comply. Hand over the human, or we unleash the warband. Surrender is your only path to avoid destruction.”
A hush falls. Senators exchange anxious looks, some evidently terrified. Vaelen glances at me, then sweeps his gaze across Freedmen behind me. The corner of his muzzle twitches in distaste. “We must not let the Freedmen’s rebellion endanger the city. Remanos, you can end this by yielding Mira to orc custody.”
