The camp had a new aura to it—one of trepidation that clung to the air like smoke. The lord was coming, and everyone could feel the shift, from the slaves to the overseers. Leon moved through the labor yard like a shadow, his expression unreadable, his movements methodical. Today, his target was Jerik's new post. The man had been promoted after a string of accidents that had caused the overseers to abandon their duties, and Leon needed to know more about this lord before making his next move.
As dusk settled in, Leon slipped away from the main construction area, weaving through the narrow alleys between half-built walls and storage sheds. Jerik's new post was near the camp's perimeter, far from the eyes of the other guards. A more isolated spot, but also one where Leon could conduct his conversation without too many ears listening.
When Leon arrived, Jerik was alone, sitting on a wooden stool, his eyes scanning the camp. The moment he saw Leon emerge from the shadows, his hand flew to the sword strapped to his side. But then recognition dawned on his face, and he lowered his hand, though his body remained tense.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jerik hissed, keeping his voice low. "You can't keep sneaking around like this."
Leon ignored the reprimand, stepping closer until he was within arm's reach of Jerik. His eyes were sharp, unblinking. "The lord. He's coming soon."
Jerik shifted uneasily on his stool, his hand still twitching near the hilt of his sword. "Yeah, he'll be here within the next few days. Why? What do you care?"
Leon's voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge to it that made Jerik's spine stiffen. "I need to know who I'm dealing with. Tell me about him."
Jerik scoffed, though the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. "The lord? You think you can go up against him? You've got no idea what kind of man he is."
"Enlighten me," Leon said, his voice like cold steel.
Jerik hesitated for a moment before glancing around to make sure no one was near. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The lord... he's not like the others. He doesn't give a damn about the slaves, the camp, or even the king's orders. The only thing that matters to him is money. He's ruthless—killed his own brother just to get the title. Poisoned him during a family feast and took everything for himself. And now he uses that power to squeeze every last coin out of this camp."
Leon listened, his face emotionless, though inside, his mind was processing every word. Jerik continued, his voice filled with a strange mix of awe and fear. "The man's a monster. He'll sell his own men out if it means getting a bigger cut. And cruelty? That's just business to him. The more pain he inflicts, the more obedient people become. He thrives on it—enjoys it, even."
Leon's eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not afraid of blood, then?"
Jerik shook his head. "No. He's made people disappear just for standing in his way. And when he comes here, he's going to expect everything to be perfect. If it's not…"
He trailed off, leaving the threat hanging in the air like a noose.
Leon's lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "He sounds predictable."
Jerik blinked, taken aback by Leon's reaction. "Predictable? You're insane if you think you can outsmart him. This man doesn't play games—he'll gut you like a pig if you even look at him wrong."
Leon stepped closer, his eyes locking with Jerik's. "And that's exactly why I'll win. Men like him... they always think they're in control because they're too blinded by their greed. They see everyone as tools or obstacles. But people like that—people who worship money above everything else—they have weaknesses. And I'll find his."
Jerik swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could see it in Leon's eyes—there was no fear there, only cold, calculating determination. Leon had already begun laying the groundwork, and Jerik was just another pawn in his plan.
"The lord doesn't trust anyone," Jerik said quietly, his voice almost trembling. "He keeps his wealth close, but he's always watching his back. If you're thinking about going after him—"
"I don't need to go after him directly," Leon interrupted. "I just need to push the right buttons."
Jerik stared at Leon for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Leon's expression didn't change. "I know exactly what game I'm playing."
Without another word, Leon turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Jerik to sit there, shaken and unsure of what he had just witnessed.
---
As Leon made his way back through the camp, his mind was already formulating a plan. The lord was nothing more than a greedy tyrant, driven by his lust for wealth and power. That kind of man could be manipulated, coerced into making mistakes. And when he did, Leon would be ready.
The camp was quiet as night fell, but Leon's thoughts were loud. The lord would arrive soon, and when he did, the fear that had already begun to spread would only grow. But fear could be turned into power, and power could bring freedom.
Leon's lips curled into a dark smile as he slipped back into the barracks. The accidents, the whispers, the growing unrest—it was all part of the plan. And soon, the lord himself would be caught in the web that Leon had been weaving from the moment he had arrived.
The slaves called it *Vek's ghost*—the unseen force haunting the camp. But soon, they would know the truth. Soon, they would realize that the ghost was very much alive, and he was coming for the men who held their chains.
Leon lay down on the cold, hard floor of the barracks, his mind already racing ahead. The lord would come, and when he did, Leon would be ready to meet him.
The game was just beginning.