Leon stood at the edge of the yard, his gaze fixed on the distant walls of the worksite. His muscles ached, his skin burned under the relentless sun, but his mind was sharper than ever. He had spent weeks observing, cataloging every weakness in the system, every subtle gap in the guards' patrols. But now, the time had come to take the first step.
Escape wasn't just about finding a weak spot in the walls or timing the guards' shifts. He knew better than to rush into something half-planned. He had seen too many men lose their lives in battle because they didn't think far enough ahead. No, if he was going to make a move, it had to be perfect—flawless. And that meant he needed more than just brute strength.
He needed medicine.
Leon's body was still too weak, his wounds too fresh. The infections creeping under his torn skin were a ticking clock, and he had no illusions about his chances of survival if they weren't treated. In this place, the slightest infection could kill as surely as a blade. And if he fell to fever or sickness before his plan could take shape, it would all be for nothing.
But the camp wasn't exactly generous when it came to medical supplies. The slaves were given barely enough food to keep them standing, let alone enough to heal. Those who fell sick were usually left to die in their cells, their bodies dragged away in the dead of night like garbage. Still, there had to be a way. There was always a way.
As Leon hauled another stone onto the pile, his eyes scanned the yard, looking for the one thing he needed more than anything else: information.
There were whispers in the camp. Hushed conversations passed between the slaves, rumors about certain guards, about black-market exchanges, about deals struck in the shadows. Leon had ignored them before, keeping to himself, but now he needed to listen. If anyone knew where to get their hands on supplies—whether it was food, tools, or medicine—it would be the ones who had learned to navigate this hellscape.
He had to find someone who knew the inner workings of the guards' network.
It didn't take long. In a place like this, the opportunists always rose to the top. One man, in particular, had caught Leon's attention. His name was Grig, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a tongue as quick as his hands. Leon had seen him moving between the slaves, trading scraps of food, bits of metal, and anything else that could be of use. He never worked harder than he needed to, and the guards seemed to look the other way when he cut corners. That kind of leniency didn't come cheap.
Leon approached Grig slowly, cautious not to draw too much attention. He waited until the guards were distracted, their backs turned as they barked orders at another group of slaves. Grig was leaning against the stone pile, wiping sweat from his brow and muttering to himself when Leon stepped beside him.
"You're Grig, right?"
The smaller man glanced up, his eyes narrowing as they settled on Leon. "What's it to you?"
"I need something," Leon said quietly, keeping his voice low. "Medicine."
Grig's face twisted into a grin, though there was no warmth in it. "Medicine, huh? That's a tall order. Especially for someone who's still got both his legs. Most people don't ask for that unless they're on their way out."
"I'm not most people."
Grig's grin faded slightly as he studied Leon more closely. There was something in Leon's tone, something that made him pause. "And what makes you think I can get it?"
"I've seen you," Leon said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "You're not just trading scraps. You've got connections—guards who look the other way, deals with people outside the camp. You've found a way to survive in this place, and that means you know things. You know how to get what you need."
Grig's eyes darted around nervously, but Leon could see the calculation behind them. The man was smart—smart enough to know when he was being watched, but also smart enough to recognize an opportunity when it presented itself.
"And what's in it for me?" Grig asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Leon leaned in, his voice cold and firm. "I can make it worth your while. Not now—but soon. I have plans, Grig. And if you help me, you'll have more than just scraps. You'll be free."
Grig snorted, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Hope? Greed? Maybe both. "Free? In case you haven't noticed, nobody's free around here."
"They will be. You can either be part of that or stay here and rot. Your choice."
Grig fell silent, his mind working through the possibilities. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and cautious. "I might know a guy. One of the guards—he's not exactly loyal, if you catch my drift. He likes his drink more than his duty. Gets drunk enough, he might part with some supplies."
"How much?"
Grig scratched at his chin, considering. "Depends on what you need. Basic stuff, I can probably get. Anything more… specialized, that'll cost extra."
"I don't need much," Leon said, his voice steady. "Antiseptics. Bandages. Enough to keep me going."
Grig nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do. But it won't be cheap."
"I'll pay. Just make sure it's enough."
Grig gave him a quick nod, glancing around before slipping back into the shadows of the yard. Leon watched him go, his mind racing. This was just the first step—finding a way to survive long enough to put the rest of his plan into motion. He wasn't naïve enough to think that Grig's help would come without risk, but it was a risk he had to take.
His military training had taught him one thing above all else: in a war, you didn't just fight battles. You fought for survival. You used every resource, every advantage, no matter how small. And right now, the battlefield was in front of him—the guards, the walls, the prison of stone and flesh.
He would win this war. But first, he had to survive it.
As the day dragged on and the overseers barked their orders, Leon's focus never wavered. His mind ticked like a clock, marking every moment the guards changed shifts, every time one of them turned their back or let their attention slip. Every second was a potential opportunity, a crack in the system waiting to be exploited.
And now, with the promise of medicine within reach, Leon took the first real step toward breaking free.