I sat in relative silence, the occasional gust of wind brushing against the cart breaking the monotony. It had been a little while since Lord Thorne gave the order to the guards to retrieve goblins—or something similar. He seemed to be in a notably good mood, smiling more than before. Whatever his plan was, it clearly pleased him.
As boredom crept in, I let my mind wander. My thoughts turned to the strange changes I had been noticing within myself. Everything felt sharper now, my memories no longer shrouded in the murky haze they once were. Before the surgery, recalling anything had felt like trying to peer through muddy water. Now, every memory surfaced effortlessly, clear and precise, as though etched into my mind.
Without realizing it, my hand moved to my head. My fingers brushed over the faint circular groove in my skull where the surgery had been performed. It wasn't fully healed, and the sensation sent a shiver through me. My thoughts lingered on what they might have done to me, what I was now. But a sudden banging on the door jolted me from my thoughts.
"My Lord," came the muffled voice of the guard outside. "We have found and captured five goblins. Two armed with clubs, one with a dagger, one with a staff—likely some kind of caster—and one that is in the early stages of evolving into a hobgoblin. The evolving one wields a bronze warhammer and is the only one with armor. It has a gambeson, likely scavenged from a battlefield. There is nothing else of note to report. We await your orders."
I glanced at Lord Thorne, unsure of what to expect. His smile widened as he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place—anticipation, perhaps, or amusement. Whatever it was, it made my skin prickle.
"Boy… get out of the cart."
The weight in his voice froze me for a moment. He seemed... different. His usual composed demeanor was shifting, his posture looser, his mannerisms more unpredictable. It unsettled me, the subtle wildness in his tone hinting at something deeper, something dangerous.
I climbed out of the cart, my feet landing on the packed dirt. Nearby, the guards stood in a tight formation around the goblins they had captured. The creatures were smaller than I had imagined, their greenish skin mottled with darker patches. Their yellow eyes darted about frantically, sharp teeth bared as they hissed and growled.
What struck me most, however, were their swollen bellies, protruding as though they had eaten far too much. It reminded me of how the masters often looked after a feast. The thought curdled in my mind. Did these creatures live better than us? Eat better than us? The idea stung, leaving a bitter knot of frustration in my stomach. Was I truly below a beast?
"Where did you locate them, Captain?" Lord Thorne's voice broke through my thoughts.
The captain in pale armor snapped to attention before answering. "My lord, we found them a bit east, near one of the battle sites. It looked like they'd been there for some time, as most of the bodies had already been picked clean of meat. Fortunately, the group itself wasn't large enough to pose much difficulty in capturing."
Lord Thorne nodded, placing a hand on the captain's shoulder briefly before turning to me. "Boy, I want you to put on that gambeson over there," he said, gesturing toward a padded coat draped over the side of the cart.
I hesitated but quickly stepped forward to retrieve it. The gambeson was far too large for me, its thick padding nearly swallowing my small frame. It smelled of damp earth and old sweat, its weight heavier than I had expected. As I slid it over my shoulders, the coarse material pressed against my skin, grounding me in the moment.
"Good. Now, boy, I want you to pick a weapon."
Lord Thorne gestured toward a pile of crude weapons laid out on the ground—the spoils taken from the goblins. My pulse quickened as I approached. Slaves were not allowed to handle weapons, and the thought of touching one filled me with equal parts fear and exhilaration. Yet, defying Lord Thorne wasn't an option.
I scanned the pile. The clubs seemed simple enough, the dagger sharp and practical. But my gaze kept drifting toward the warhammer. Its wooden shaft was rough, its head heavy and brutal. One end came to a curved point, while the other bore three blunt nubs. It was a weapon that demanded respect, and somehow, it called to me. Slowly, I leaned down and wrapped my fingers around the shaft, lifting it. The weight was unfamiliar, yet it felt... right.
"I straightened, glancing cautiously at Lord Thorne, waiting for his reaction. My grip tightened instinctively on the hammer, my heart pounding as I awaited his next command.
He looked at me, and the wildness in his smile deepened. Slowly, he walked toward me, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over where I stood. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, but it was difficult to make out his features. His skin, dark as the deepest earth, contrasted sharply with the bright sun behind him, its light nearly blinding me. Squinting, I struggled to focus on him, but his voice cut through everything, commanding my full attention.
"Edric," he began, his tone steady but laced with something sharp and deliberate. "I know you have only known slavery, never a thought of rising above your station."
I stiffened at his words, my grip tightening further on the hammer's handle. The way he spoke made it impossible to ignore the weight of what he was about to say.
"Well," he continued, his voice lowering slightly, "I will make a deal with you. The same one I was once offered."
He paused for a moment, as though to let the gravity of his words settle over me.
"Should you become a champion in my arena, I will propose your freedom to the king. From there should he allow it, you'll be a free man."
The air seemed to thicken around me, his words striking me with a force I hadn't anticipated. Freedom. It was a concept so foreign to me that, for a moment, I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. I had spent my entire life being told that freedom was something I could never hope for—something reserved for others, never for someone like me. And yet, here he was, dangling it before me like a distant star, impossibly bright and out of reach.
For a moment, I could only stare at him, the hammer feeling heavier in my hand. Could he truly mean it? Was this another cruel game, or was there a sliver of truth in his offer?
Lord Thorne's smile widened, his sharp eyes gleaming as though he could see the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind. "What do you say, boy? Do you have it in you to fight for something more?"