"Good thing I'm the first one to start the rotation," the guard muttered, his breath clouding in the cool night air. "I wanna get as much sleep as I can since the good ol' bar awaits for me after our reward."
He tightened the grip on his spear and began his patrol around the makeshift camp.
Although the night was long, the eerie shadows from the surrounding trees, made the bound figures within the carriages seem even more helpless.
He approached the first carriage and peered inside. Rows of faces, etched with fear and exhaustion, stared back at him.
"Alright, lads," he announced, "routine check, just to be sure there's nothing buggy going on."
He examined each of their collars, ensuring the runic engravings that suppressed their mana were intact.
"Cheerio," he said with feigned cheerfulness. "Wherever you guys go, have a good life."
"I hope you live a terrible life," one of the slaves muttered.
The guard's head snapped up, and he grabbed the slave by the collar as his face contorted with anger.
"Listen here, you mutt, I was trying to be nice and give you all a pleasant night, but if you want to be hurt, you should've just said so."
BANG!
With a swift motion, he slammed the slave's head against the hard wood, knocking him unconscious.
"There goes yer value, TUAH!"
The guard spat on the unconscious slave and exited the carriage.
Inside, the other slaves trembled, watching him leave with a mixture of fear and helplessness.
With station guard satisfied, he moved on to the next carriage, repeating the process with methodical precision.
One by one, he inspected the captives scanning for any signs of resistance or escape attempts.
"That should be it."
Finding nothing amiss, he completed his circuit and retreated to his designated resting spot, eager to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn.
*
A heavy thud resonated from beneath the carriage Ezekiel was perched on.
He watched as the guard emerged, grumbling about a 'shitty slave', before moving on to inspect the next carriage.
After the guard had finished his check of the fifth carriage that was when Ezekiel decided to investigate.
HEUP!
He channeled wind mana to his feet, landing silently on the forest floor.
The wind masked any sound of his movement.
-Get up, your next.
-Alright, alright...
In the distance, he heard the next guard rouse himself for his hourly rotation.
-This is my chance!
Ezekiel crept towards the source of the noise from earlier and his hand reached for the heavy cloth that shielded the carriage's interior from the elements.
He lifted it cautiously and slipped inside. In the dim light, he saw a group of figures huddled around an unconscious body with concerned looks on their faces.
WHOOOOSH!
As Ezekiel lifted the cloth further, a cool breeze swept through the carriage. The slaves felt it and looked up in alarm.
"...!"
With their eyes turning towards the sudden brightness in light their eyes widened in shock at the sight of the young boy standing before them.
Confused whispers rippled through the huddled figures.
They exchanged bewildered glances.
-Who is this boy?
-He must be living a fantasy if he wants to save us.
-Seriously, does he want to end up like us too?
The reactions of the slaves were justifiable. In a situation faced with an unstoppable force, there wasn't an immovable object.
To them, Ezekiel was simply a kid, and even though the cloak concealed his identity, it was obvious he was just a young boy fulfilling heroic fantasies.
Another fact the slaves took notice of was his clothes, as they were clearly not those of the organization, which was a relief.
Ezekiel stepped forward, and his voice, though hesitant, spoke in the confined space.
"I-I... I'm here to save you..."
He spoke with a shy tone, his heart pounding anxiously.
This was something that needed to be done, even if it terrified him.
The slaves stared at him, their faces etched with disbelief, and once again they started talking amongst themselves.
-Is he serious? Does he think this is a game?
-He's just a child. He doesn't understand what he's up against.
-Maybe we should just ignore him and hope he goes away.
They dismissed his words as childish fantasies.
The others, focused on the unconscious man, continued their desperate attempts to keep him alive.
Ezekiel knew he had to prove himself, to show them he was capable of helping.
He stepped closer and his small frame radiated a presence that shook everyone within the carriage.
Though his hood concealed most of his features, his emerald eyes glowed with an intensity, a beacon of resolve that pierced the dim light.
The slaves tending to the injured man backed away, sensing something powerful emanating from Ezekiel.
He reached out, extending his hand just above the man's head wound.
"By the hand of Grace, may the wind's blessing spread life to those who cannot give. With this prayer, I ask for recovery, strength, and guidance to help those in need. For I the catalyst ask for your wisdom, allow the world to see your power."
[Ventus Secret Spell Arts: Eurus's Prayer.]
HWAM...
Mana surged through Ezekiel's veins, a small sphere of green energy formed in his palm.
The light enveloped the wound, and the man's head, moments ago battered and bloodied, began to heal.
"Ah... My head... it hurts..."
The slave's eyes fluttered open. He blinked trying to unblur his vision and that's when he saw him – a boy with blonde hair and emerald eyes peering from beneath a brown hooded cloak.
"...!"