Her expression softens. “We’ll decide together. The world is big, and we’re free of Senate obligations.” She lifts her face, scanning the busy harbor. “Though Freedmen might protest our departure. They admire you.”
An affectionate sigh escapes me. “The city has Freedmen councils now. They don’t need a single champion or Senate figurehead. Our departure is a testament to that—they can stand without illusions of a leader.”
Mira nods, brushing her fingers lightly across my forearm. A quiet moment passes between us, filled with the hum of dockworkers and the call of gulls overhead. I gather her hand inmine, pressing a tender kiss to her palm. She arches a brow, half teasing. “Still in that gentle mode after last night’s union?”
A rush of heat floods my cheeks, recalling the intensity of our ceremony. “Hard to forget,” I murmur, a playful gleam in my eye. “You accepted me in every sense. I’ll probably stay in that mood for a while.”
She laughs softly, leaning closer. “I approve.”
Before I can respond, the rhythmic sound of Freedmen footsteps nears. Tiro and Tila approach, grinning wide. Tiro calls out, “Remanos, Mira—the Freedmen council awaits near the pier. They’d like to give you a formal send-off.” He gestures to a small gathering of Freedmen wearing sashes in different colors, symbolic of their roles.
Our eyes meet in silent understanding, hearts thudding with mingled affection and reluctance. We cross the docks, weaving between piles of crates and coiled ropes, until we reach the group. They number about a dozen, a mix of crafters, ex-city guards, and Freedmen who once labored under forced contracts. The instant they see us, their faces light with respect.
A Freedman elder steps forward, the same broad-shouldered bull who presided over some of the city’s new governance. His muzzle twitches in a friendly smile. “Remanos, Mira,” he says, voice carrying. “Before you set sail, we offer our gratitude. The city stands on a new horizon, Freedmen forging laws that respect all. You gifted us the spark to realize we never needed the Senate’s illusions.”
I swallow emotion, recalling the day Freedmen stormed the arena to defend Mira from orcs, how they overcame Vaelen’s manipulations. “You overcame everything yourselves,” I say, voice tight. “All I did was show you a path. Freedmen walked it.”
He dips his head. “Perhaps, but we’d have stumbled longer without your example. And Mira’s unwavering spirit.” He steps back, letting Tila approach. She holds a small wooden plaque,carved with Freedmen’s new emblem—a stylized bull’s horn entwined with a crafters’ hammer, representing unity. Tila offers it to us.
My eyes find Mira, who nods, eyes shining. I accept the plaque, running a thumb over the delicate carving. “Thank you,” I murmur, chest constricting with pride. “We’ll keep it aboard, a reminder that Freedmen’s bravery once saved us all.”
The elder Freedman nods. “And if you ever return, we’d welcome you both as honored kin. The city’s gates remain open, Freedman to Freedman.”
My tail flicks a bit more enthusiastically than usual. “We’ll come back,” I promise, “if only to see how the city flourishes under your new council.”
Mira squeezes my hand. Her gaze roves over the watchers, a wave of affection shining in her face. “Guard the city well, and guard each other. We trust you.”
Tiro steps forward, offering a short salute. “We have watchers posted along every gate, crafters forging alliances with neighboring enclaves, and a new Freedman-led legislative group. We’ll do more than guard. We’ll grow.”
My chest warms. A hush falls as Tila calls out, “Let’s give them a Freedman’s farewell.” Freedmen around us raise their fists or bows, letting out a resonant cry that echoes over the water. My throat tightens, tears prickling behind my eyes. To be accepted so fully—once I was champion with forced illusions, now just Remanos the Freedman, beloved by the city.
With quiet nods, Mira and I retreat from the group, making our way back to the waiting sloop. Freedmen linger, presumably wanting to see us off. A few crafters holler last-minute well-wishes. Tila tosses Mira a small pouch of dried fruit for the journey. Laughter mingles with tears.
At the sloop’s gangplank, I turn, letting my gaze sweep the harbor one last time. Freedmen, crafters, watchers—everyonestands in an unspoken unity that wouldn’t have been possible months before. My battered heart brims with awe. I feel Mira’s hand slide into mine, fingers twining. Slowly, we step onto the deck, Freedmen cheering from the pier’s edge.
Tiro calls out, “Smooth winds, champion!” His grin reveals he’s aware champion is no longer an official title but a heartfelt acknowledgment. Freedmen wave, crafters wave their hats. Mira and I wave back, the sloop rocking gently beneath us. Then we turn to see a small volunteer crew Freedmen insisted on sending to help sail us out of the harbor. Perhaps half a dozen minotaurs and humans, some city watchers bored with old duties, now eager for a taste of open water.
Mira releases a pent-up breath, scanning the rigging. “This craft is lovely. Freedmen’s craftsmanship never ceases to amaze me.”
I nod, testing the wheel. “No illusions, only honest skill.”
The volunteer crew sets to work, untying lines, loosening sails. Freedmen on the docks throw off the last mooring ropes, hollering final farewells. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins as the sail catches a gentle breeze, the sloop gliding away from Milthar’s pier. The city’s coastline unfurls in a magnificent panorama of arches and columns, Freedmen’s banners fluttering on the upper towers.
Mira’s right beside me, cloak ruffling in the wind. She leans over the railing, watching Freedmen recede. “It’s surreal,” she whispers. “No champion’s duty, no Senate chain, just the sea ahead.”
I reach out, resting a reassuring palm on her shoulder. “We earned this freedom. Freedmen are safe, orcs driven out, conspirators tried. We can choose our next chapter.”
Her eyes gleam with tears that never quite fall. “And we’ll write our own laws along the way,” she murmurs, half to herself.
A jolt of warmth flickers in my chest. “Yes,” I echo softly. “No illusions can bind us now.”
The sloop’s hull cleaves through calm waves, picking up speed. The city shrinks behind us, Freedmen’s cheers fading into a gentle hum. The volunteer crew hums sea shanties while adjusting rigging, content to let us drift along. Mira and I share a private smile, leaning over the deck rail. The salt air stings my nose, reminiscent of new beginnings.
After a time, she exhales and meets my gaze. “Remember how you once had everything: champion’s seat, Senate favor, a hammered crest? Did you ever imagine throwing it all away for a single woman?”
I huff a soft laugh, half incredulous at the memory. “Never. But I realize none of it was real. Freedmen’s acceptance is real, your love is real.” I brush her cheek with my knuckles, marveling at how easily she closes her eyes to the touch. “II’d choose this to stand here again, free from illusions.”
She cups my jaw in return, voice going husky. “And I’d endure every scrap of scorn or captivity to find this moment with you. But I’m glad we can leave that behind. No more forced tributes. No more orc hunts.”
