The moon hung high in the sky, casting pale light across the camp as Leon slipped through the shadows. His bare feet barely made a sound on the packed earth, his body moving with the stealth he had honed in his former life. Even after all this time, his training hadn't left him. Muscle memory, instincts—they were sharper now than ever.
Jerik didn't know it yet, but tonight would be different. Leon wasn't here to ask. He was here to force his hand.
He arrived at the back of Jerik's quarters, slipping past the half-asleep guard at the front without so much as a glance. The night was still and quiet, with only the distant sounds of other slaves shifting in their sleep. Leon's breath was slow and measured as he waited in the darkness, watching.
Inside, Jerik sat slumped over a small table, a cup of something strong in his hand. His eyes were glazed, his posture lazy, like a man who thought he had the upper hand. Leon smirked. That was about to change.
With a single step forward, Leon let his presence be known. Jerik flinched, nearly knocking over his cup as he shot up in his seat, his eyes darting toward the door. He hadn't heard a thing—just like Leon wanted.
"You," Jerik breathed, trying to steady himself. "What the hell are you doing here again? I told you—"
Leon cut him off, his voice low and sharp. "You didn't tell me anything, Jerik. I'm not here to listen to your excuses."
Jerik blinked, momentarily taken aback by Leon's tone. He wasn't used to slaves speaking to him like that. The fear flickered in his eyes for a split second, but he quickly tried to mask it with arrogance.
"I'm not interested in your little schemes anymore," Jerik said, setting his cup down with a loud clink. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
Leon stepped forward, his face expressionless, but his eyes burning with cold intensity. "I'm not selling anything, Jerik. I'm offering you power. Real power. You think you have it now, sitting here, licking the overseers' boots for scraps. But I see what you really are."
Jerik narrowed his eyes, his body tensing. "You don't know anything about me."
Leon smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I know more than you think. I know how those overseers laugh behind your back. I know how the guards treat you like you're no better than the slaves. They mock you, Jerik. Every day you kiss their asses, hoping they'll throw you a bone, and what do you get? Nothing."
Jerik's jaw clenched, and Leon could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He was getting to him. Good.
"I could change that," Leon continued, his voice a low whisper, almost conspiratorial. "I know which guards you'd need to get rid of. Which overseers are the weakest links. I can make them disappear, one by one, and no one would ever know it was you who set it in motion."
Jerik stared at him, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "Disappear? You mean kill them?" His voice dropped to a whisper, the fear creeping in.
Leon tilted his head slightly. "It wouldn't be hard. An 'accident' during a labor day. Maybe an unfortunate 'fight' between slaves that goes too far. One or two bodies buried in the dirt, and no one will ask questions. You'd be the one left standing, Jerik. You'd move up the ranks. Overseer, maybe even higher if you play your cards right."
Jerik's face twitched, his mind clearly racing. He wanted it, Leon could tell. The power. The control. But he was afraid, too afraid to take that step on his own. That's where Leon came in.
"You're insane," Jerik muttered, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Even if I agreed to this madness, what's in it for you?"
Leon's smile widened, more predatory now. "Medicine. Food. Weapons. You get me what I need, and I'll take care of the rest. It's simple. I'm not asking for loyalty. I don't care what you do after you get what you want. But until then, we're in this together."
Jerik shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to the door as if he expected someone to burst in at any moment. Leon could see him weighing the options, torn between ambition and fear.
Then Leon leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a cold, threatening whisper. "Or you could keep playing the obedient dog, hoping one day the overseers will throw you a bigger bone. But I'll tell you this right now, Jerik: they won't. You'll stay exactly where you are, groveling for the rest of your miserable life."
Jerik opened his mouth to protest, but Leon cut him off, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "And if you think for one second you can double-cross me, you're even dumber than I thought. If you say one word to the overseers about this, I'll make sure it's your body they bury in the dirt next."
Jerik's face drained of color, his mouth hanging open as the threat sank in. Leon could see the fear now, clear as day, etched into every line of Jerik's face. It was exactly what he wanted.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jerik swallowed hard and nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Fine. I'll… I'll see what I can do."
Leon straightened, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. He stared at Jerik for a long moment, making sure the man understood exactly what was at stake.
"Good," Leon said quietly. "I'll be expecting results soon."
Without another word, Leon turned and slipped back into the shadows, leaving Jerik sitting alone in his quarters, shaking with fear.
The night swallowed Leon as he made his way back toward the barracks. His heart was steady, his mind clear. He didn't need to look back to know that Jerik would come through for him now. He had pushed the right buttons, pulled the right strings.
Now, it was only a matter of time before things started to fall into place.
As he walked, Leon's thoughts drifted back to the camp, to the slaves, to the overseers who thought they held all the power. They were wrong. They didn't know it yet, but they were standing on the edge of a knife.
And Leon was ready to cut.