Remanos raises his voice, addressing the crowd. “Hear me, Freedmen. This rite stands for all of us, forging new paths free of illusions. Our bond is our choice, an example that none are spoils or lesser. We stand equal, mates in life, forging the city’s future side by side.”
The cheers intensify, orchard blossoms tossed into the air in celebration. I can’t help laughing, leaning into Remanos’s warmth. He wraps an arm around my waist, mindful of my veils. The city once tried branding me a spoil. Now Freedmen hail me as a rightful partner to the minotaur they once called champion.My heart swells, tears tickling my lashes again, but they’re tears of joy.
Hands reach out to pat Remanos’s shoulders, to grasp my hands in congratulations. Freedmen swarm around us, forging a living ring of acceptance. Tila, face streaked with happy tears, envelops me in a tight hug. Tiro slaps Remanos on the back, nearly toppling him in good-natured excitement. Even a few crafters approach with small tokens—hand-crafted bracelets, earthenware cups. We accept them with humility, the knowledge that Freedmen truly see me as an equal lifemate to Remanos.
Eventually, the crowd’s noise settles into laughter and meandering conversations. A Freedman girl passes around a pitcher of spiced wine, pouring small cups for everyone. Another Freedman boy plays a gentle tune on a reed flute. The courtyard brims with warmth, a festival for the bond we’ve just sealed. Remanos, swaying a bit from exhaustion, sips the spiced wine and trades jokes with Freedmen. My heart thrums with contentment.
At last, as the sun dips lower, painting the colosseum’s arches in gold, we slip away from the main cluster, needing a moment of calm. Arm in arm, we stroll a short distance from the altar, orchard blossoms crunching underfoot. He leans on me a little, thigh still sore, but I’m happy to be his support.
We pause near a low stone bench, letting the faint hush embrace us. Freedmen remain in sight, celebrating further. Remanos sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” he whispers, voice thick. “For standing with me, for forging this bond. I never knew a ceremony could feel so… real.”
I cradle his cheek, tears brimming yet again. “No illusions, no forced spoils. Just us.”
He kisses me, a lingering press of lips that sends a sweet ache coursing through me. The city might stand beyond these orchard blossoms, Freedmen forging new laws, crafters preparing fortomorrow’s tasks. But in this quiet moment, the magnitude of our vow settles deep into my soul. We overcame conspiracies, orc raids, Senate manipulations, and emerged truly free to love each other on our own terms.
Pulling back, he sets his muzzle against my temple. “Lifemate,” he murmurs, voice unsteady with emotion. “I never thought I’d utter those words without shame or regret.”
A quiet laugh escapes me. “Neither did I. But here we are.”
He inhales, gaze drifting toward Freedmen in the distance. “Tomorrow we can plan if Freedmen need us to remain here or if we might travel for a while. But tonight, we’re lifemates, no champion’s obligations overshadowing us.”
My chest tightens at the mention of overshadow, but I let it pass, focusing on the warmth in his voice. I rest my palm on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Yes, no obligations overshadow us,” I say softly, correcting any slip. “We choose how to stand with Freedmen. Together.”
He laughs gently, pressing a final kiss to my lips. “Then let’s enjoy our night. Freedmen can handle the city for once.”
A wave of tender relief fills me. We’ll rejoin the crowd soon, share a toast, maybe dance or simply talk. But for now, we hold each other in the hush, orchard flowers releasing sweet fragrance. The day is ours, the vow sealed. Freedmen rejoice, and I stand here with my lifemate, finally free from the Senate’s chain.
I exhale, burying my face against his broad shoulder, letting the last rays of sunlight paint us in a golden hush. The city sings in quiet triumph, the colosseum stands as a reminder of battles fought and won, Freedmen forging a new path. And in the midst of it all, Remanos and I hold each other, every veil removed, hearts bared, souls united in a bond of choice and love.
Yes, we have truly begun anew.
20
REMANOS
Istroll through the winding streets of Milthar’s bustling heart, the sun shining down on me in a way that feels gentler now—no tension thrumming in the air, no watchful guard in the corner scanning my every move. It’s as if the city itself breathes easier. Freedmen have claimed the forum, forging committees and councils to shape new laws. Crafters hawk fresh wares, newly confident that trade can flourish without orc extortion or Senate meddling. Passing them, I sense an undercurrent of excitement crackling through the streets, an awareness that real change is here at last.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a polished metal tray set out by a merchant. The face staring back is battered but alive with a kind of peace I never thought I’d find. My horns, once polished for champion’s appearances, are unadorned—just rough bone, scuffed from my last battles. The city doesn’t mind. They see me for what I truly am: a Freedman among Freedmen, a minotaur who refused to let illusions rule him. And that knowledge alone feels lighter than any crown of laurels the Senate could’ve placed on my head.
The sweet scents of orchard blooms linger in the morning breeze. Many Freedmen decorate their stalls with garlands, celebrating the city’s rebirth. Children dart between them, shrieking in playful banter. Every corner of Milthar brims with renewed life. I notice Freedmen guards patrolling, not under Senate orders but at the request of local merchants who trust Freedmen more than the old watchmen. The entire power structure has shifted, though carefully, to something fairer.
A few Freedmen pause their chatter, noticing me. One or two wave, calling out, “Remanos, safe travels!” My chest squeezes with a rush of gratitude. News spread quickly that Mira and I plan to leave soon, to sail beyond Milthar’s shores. Freedmen appear both proud and wistful about our decision, aware we’ve chosen the freedom we helped them secure.
I dip my head in acknowledgment, continuing down a lane that leads to the harbor. My thigh aches faintly from the old injury, but the wound no longer cripples me. Each step is a reminder I survived the orc clashes, Vaelen’s conspiracies, the forced champion’s rank. Freed from illusions, indeed.
The harbor opens up before me in a wash of sunlit water. Dozens of ships bob at the piers, sails fluttering in a gentle breeze. Dockworkers labor with renewed vigor, hauling crates for future trade. Freedmen with rolled parchments negotiate shipping routes—crafters adding color-coded stamps to boxes, ensuring clarity. The entire place buzzes with possibilities. I exhale, taking it all in.
At the edge of the docks, an elegant yet sturdy craft awaits, no lavish decoration or Senate crest, just solid wood that can handle long voyages. The Freedmen council insisted on gifting us a vessel, but we refused anything too grand. This simpler sloop suits me better. I run a hand over the smooth railing, checking the rigging. The Freedmen crafters who built it did fine work—my tail swishes in quiet satisfaction.
Footsteps approach behind me. I check behind me to find Mira, hands clasped together, eyes bright with the same anticipation stirring in my veins. She’s dressed in travel leathers, a light cloak draped around her shoulders. Just yesterday, she wore the layered veils for our lifemate ceremony. My heart warms at the memory. No illusions, no forced stance. Now, she’s simply my partner, about to embark on a shared journey.
She smiles when she sees me examining the boat. “You seem pleased,” she notes, stepping close enough for me to feel the gentle brush of her hip against mine.
I nod, tail giving a slow flick. “It’s a good vessel. Freedmen crafters poured skill into its design, and it’s small enough for us to manage with a minimal crew.” The mere thought of drifting on open waters, exploring beyond Milthar’s coast, sends a ripple of excitement through my chest. “Where shall we sail first?” I ask softly, meeting her gaze.
She tilts her head, eyes drifting to the horizon. “There are rumors of new human enclaves across the sea—some free from orc raids. Or we could head toward minotaur outposts rumored to trade with humans more peacefully. It’s all open to us, truly.”
I can’t suppress a small grin. “You’re the wanderer by nature. I’ll follow wherever you feel drawn.”
