The slave my people

The court gathering was thick with tension, an unspoken storm brooding beneath formal expressions and stiff nods. Lord Varek’s jaw was locked, his eyes dark with suppressed fury as he sat opposite James. They hadn’t spoken, but their silence said enough. James could feel Varek's hate like heat rising off stone.

Draven stood and raised his hand. “Enough of the long stir, my friends,” he said with a lazy smirk. “We all want the same thing,to keep the slaves in chains and this kingdom running strong.”

His voice rang through the hall.

“Varek, for now, James will be in charge of the slave camps. At first light, take him with you. Show him the grounds. Introduce him as their new lord. Let them know their chains are still secure.”

James didn’t blink. Varek, on the other hand, looked like he might combust.

“This meeting is dismissed,” Draven said, with a wave.

The camp was already bustling. Slaves lined up in rags, weak but obedient, their “tasks”, baskets of crops, dried meats, laid at their feet. James took it all in: the hollJames rose and walked away, unbothered by Varek’s glare. He returned to his chambers, intending to rest and prepare for the day ahead. He had just unfastened his cloak when a knock came. The door creaked open.

Selena stepped inside.

“Thanks for saving me today,” she said softly.

James turned, his voice calm. “My pleasure. I wouldn’t have let you die… I’d rather it be me.”

Selena smiled, eyes gleaming. She stepped closer, her voice a whisper. “That’s why I like you. I really do.”

She paused, her gaze deepening, sultry and vulnerable all at once.

“I just wish you were mine,” she said, her hand brushing lightly against his.

James met her eyes, feeling the pull, but he stepped back. “I need to rest, Selena. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Her lips parted slightly, but he was already at the door. “Maybe some other time,” he said gently as he walked her out.

Once alone, he locked the door. But sleep didn’t come. Instead, the dream returned the flames, the screaming, the child. Every night, the same. Every night, torment.

James got up and slipped outside, breathing in the cool night air, letting it soothe his rage. He stared at the moon, the stars, and imagined what it would feel like to finally strike back. To tear down the walls. To free his people. To avenge his parents.

The night dragged on, and somewhere in the silence, sleep found him where he sat.

A voice stirred him.

“Couldn’t sleep, I guess?”

James looked up, blinking into the sunlight.

It was Draven, grinning.

“I guess I was just looking for a more comfortable spot,” James replied dryly.

Draven laughed. “Varek will be here any moment. You two will head to the slave camp. Time to start collecting tasks.”

“Slaves pay tasks?” James asked, feigning mild surprise, though inside he was boiling.

“With their harvest,” Draven confirmed.

James clenched his jaw but said nothing. Not yet.

Moments later, Varek stormed in. He greeted Draven with a curt nod, but didn’t even glance at James.

James didn’t care.

Draven gave a nod. “Make sure you do exactly what I said yesterday.”

Without a word, James left and returned to his chambers. He dressed, fastened his cloak, and joined Varek and a few guards as they rode to the Bloodthorn camps.

ow faces, the trembling hands, the silent cries for mercy.

Then they reached her.

Sara.

She stood tall, empty-handed, defiant.

“I have nothing to give,” she said, voice firm despite her exhaustion. “I’m tired of offering what I barely have. Let me starve, but I won’t keep feeding cruelty.”

A guard seized her roughly and shoved her forward. “She’s being difficult, my lord.”

Varek snarled. “You again?”

He stepped forward and slammed a fist into her stomach. Sara buckled but didn’t fall. He kicked her hard, once, twice, but she didn’t cry.

“Kill me!” she shouted. “Better to die than rot in chains!”

Varek kept hitting her.

James’s blood roared.

“Enough!” James barked, stepping forward, voice thunderous.

Varek didn’t stop.

James stormed in and shoved him back, hard. “I said enough! Do you want to kill her?!”

“She’s better off dead than alive,” Varek growled.

“And if they all die,” James hissed, “who will serve you?”

“I don’t care! Let them all rot!” Varek spat.

James dropped to his knees beside Sara, gently reaching for her. She was bleeding, breath shaky, but her eyes locked onto his. For a moment, the world froze.

He stared at her.

And she stared back.

In his eyes, she saw something different, not the cold, dead gaze of a tyrant, but something else. Something she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Peace.

Warmth.

Maybe even… mercy.

Her chest rose sharply. Her face twisted, not with fear, but confusion, maybe even a spark of hope.

Then her features hardened again.

She spat beside him. “You’re all the same. Wicked. Arrogant. Evil. There’s no kindness left in your kind.”

She pushed to her feet, every movement a silent scream of pain, and limped away without looking back.

James watched her go, heart pounding, not in anger, but in shame.

“I’ll see that Draven hears about this,” Varek said bitterly, mounting his horse.

“Good,” James muttered. “Let him.”

As Varek galloped away, James remained there, frozen, watching the woman who dared speak truth to power disappear into the dust.

And in his chest, the war drums beat louder.