The slave was in a lot of pain, and his vision continued to fade in and out, and the few times he managed to see something, it was blurry. He wasn't sure what was going on, other than there were people around him. All he knew was pain, and that time was passing, though he wasn't sure how much time.

When he finally stopped feeling the torture, the slave slept the days away, finally waking and finding Kenrul, one of the few people he believed could be trusted as his mistress's ally, sitting in the room.

The slave himself was resting on a bed, covered by a comfortable blanket that he could tell was imbued with healing properties.

"You've woken," the High Noble and clan-head of the Rul Clan said as the slave sat up. "Take it easy, you were poisoned with manariss."

The slave frowned at that. He had served his mistress for nearly twenty years at that point, yet he doubted she liked him enough to spend the money needed to treat someone infected with manariss if that someone were a slave, even him.

He knew for a fact she had let slaves under her care for a century die to manariss, having been the one to dispose of their bodies on more than one occasion.

A desire to ask why she had put in the effort to allow him to survive a poison that fed on mana itself rose to his mind, but he wouldn't ask that in private with his mistress, much less ask someone she had kept at arm's length for twenty years.

Yes, she trusted Kenrul, especially as she found grounding for the slave's own trust of him, but she was still wary of those around her, lest her father influence them. At least, that was the public view. The slave had a feeling she had secret meetings with him – meetings even he, her most trusted slave, was not privy to.

Forcibly, the slave kept a frown from forming as he realized the clan markings on Kenrul were wrong. They weren't the Rul Clan's markings, of which no trace existed. They only way for that to happen was if he founded a new clan and it was approved by the Silver Grace, which rarely approved anything.

From what the slave knew, the last time the Silver Grace approved a new clan's foundation was nearly fifty thousand years prior. It had approved other things in that time, but not many. A brand-new clan under its approval, however, was both rare and an extreme honor.

"You noticed my markings," the High Noble smiled. "Yes, I am no longer a Rul. Your mistress and I took those loyal to us and joined them together as a new clan. We are now the Nol Clan, and the Silver Grace bestowed upon us full approval when we performed the marking ceremony.

"If you're wondering why we did that," the High Noble said. "Her father had slipped his spies in among my forces when he realized that she and I were drawing close, converted many. After the attack, she and I decided to merge our forces together. She became the Icth after a duel between us."

An Icht was the first of their clan, either a new clan or one formed with the approval of the Silver Grace. His mistress was no longer Eralen, but Ichtnol. She might still go by Era, though, as it would not tie her to a clan. Most Ichts went by the first part of their former name.

"And if you're wondering why you were allowed to live," the High Noble told the slave, before gesturing to a mirror the slave had missed. "You can see it there."

The slave hesitated, but looked into the mirror, his hands shooting to his neck immediately. The crimson collar marked upon his neck was still there, but it possessed a series of violet swirls as well. Freedom swirls, and if he compared them to the High Noble's, it was freedom given by the Nol Clan.

"Era released you as you suffered," the High Noble informed the slave. "A lowborn now, rather than a slave. Over the last two decades, you served her more loyally than any other slave had ever done so. Do you remember how you became infected with the manariss poison?"

The lowborn shook his head. The last thing he remembered was fuzzy, but it was not eating or being attacked, so he was uncertain as to how he could have been infected with manariss.

"We expected that," Kennol told him. "Era was eating dinner one day during a small party, and an assassin attempted to take her life. Having yet to be allowed to learn magic, you threw yourself in front of the blade. While patching you up would normally take no time at all, and your body would have healed on its own, the manariss coating the blade changed that. It has been four months since you were poisoned. For your loyalty to Era, your service to her, and your willingness to sacrifice your life, you were granted freedom."

The lowborn frowned. He wanted to question how he could have survived manariss for four months, even with treatment – how it could have even affected him that long without killing him. His past as a slave, however, was still fresh, so he kept silent, even as he corrected his frown to a neutral expression. He knew he would fix his slipping expressions once he finished recovering.

"You are wondering why it affected you so long," Kennol said. "Manariss draws on the mana to affect you. The more mana you have, the longer it will affect you. Though you might be a red, you have a large amount of mana. That is one of the reasons Era took an interest in you.

"When she first saw you," Kennol told him. "She noticed the immense amount of mana within you. It rivaled many Grand Nobles, even a few High Nobles. Without training, without mana expansion meditations and training, you held an immense amount of mana. Purify that mana and increase your pool, and you could easily reach Royal Noble status in terms of power. And now that you are a lowborn, you are free to learn magic as you wish."

The former slave's eyes lit up a little at the realization of just what his freedom meant. No one would stop him from learning magic – he could do it without fear of punishment. And if what Kennol said, it explained why he still looked young, his appearance being similar to a noble's, despite his status. The more mana someone had, and the more purified it was, affected when they stopped aging. He looked only nineteen because of his immense pool of mana, and that meant that, with training, he could be a truly great warrior.

Then, his expression quickly dropped as he realized the downsides to not being a slave anymore.

Freedom meant no clan, unless his former mistress took him in. It also meant he would have to build connections and allies on his own, and it might take him centuries to find a mate, having been a slave. Possibly even thousands of years, if he lived that long.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Do not look down," Kennol said. "Era said that if you wish to join her Nol Clan, you are more than welcome to. We only did not brand you as one of ours as you recovered on the chance you chose to seek out another clan.

"If you wish to join our clan," Kennol continued. "There are two possibilities. The first is you act as a normal lowborn, which means seeking out employment on your own, hoping someone accepts you. The second is that you go into Era's employ as a servant. In the latter situation, you will act much the same as you did before. What would you like to do?"

"I wish to continue to serve Lady Era," the lowborn responded.

"Then come with me," Kennol stood.

The lowborn climbed off the bed and followed the High Noble out of the room. They walked through Lady Era's castle until they reached a chamber, where the clan-head awaited with several slaves, guards, and nobles, a small table beside her with a red stone resting upon it.

Her former slave realized immediately that they had expected that response, and felt relieved that they expected him to continue to serve her. He wasn't sure why, but he did.

"Welcome," Era smiled at the lowborn. "Have you chosen a name for yourself, now?"

The lowborn hesitated, as he had not even considered the fact that he could take on a name.

"No?" She asked. "That is fine if you have not. If you wish, I can assign one to you."

The slave dipped his head slightly in response.

"Very well, then," she said. "Step forward."

He approached her, and she picked up the red stone. The lowborn identified it immediately as a Marking Stone. It was used to give someone the markings which denoted their status and affiliation. Only a clan-head could use them, as far as he knew.

Lady Ichtnol, clan-head of Nol Clan, pressed the stone against the lowborn's chest, beginning to create the markings on his upper chest, back, and his shoulders that denoted him as a member of her clan.

When she finished, Era placed the Marking Stone back upon the table and smiled.

"Welcome to the clan, Varnol," she said.

"Thank you for accepting me," the lowborn managed to speak, though the fear of punishment remained.

"Come," she beckoned. "Let us feast to celebrate your recovery, Varnol."

"I am not worthy of a feast," he lowered his head.

"Had you not stepped in the way," she said. "That knife would have killed me, Varnol. You may be a lowborn and a former slave, but you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me. Few slaves would do that. Come."

Varnol followed Era out, Kennol walking alongside them until they reached the Great Hall, where a feast was set out. What followed were hours of feasting and dancing, the former slave feeling, for the first time, what it meant to be free, though a slight fear of it all being a dream did rise within him at times.

Deep into the night, Era led Varnol back to her private chambers, where a slave had already prepared a bath. Kennol accompanied them, and the slave washed the trio before exiting. As the three soaked, Varnol still nervous, Era explained the course of events that occurred after he took the knife.

Lady Elmel, who Varnol had not trusted from the moment he first laid eyes upon her his first day as a slave, turned out to be behind the assassination. After receiving that response from the chain of people they tortured starting with the assassin, Era personally went after Lady Elmel, only for the clan-head to have escaped upon hearing of Era's trip.

Kennol, having own suspicions about Elmel, had befriended her over the years. While he had been unaware of her plans for Era, he had managed to gain her near-absolute trust. When she fled, she fled to him in the belief that he would help her fight Era, unaware of his own loyalty to the furious noble. When she arrived, he 'celebrated' her attack on Era with her, wished her luck next time, and watched as the poison in her drink knocked her unconscious.

After that happened, he bound her with binding runes and brought her to Era's castle. Now, she occupied the same cell which Varnol did upon his arrival there. The rest of her clan was either scattered, absorbed into another clan, or had died when Era obliterated Elmel's mansion.

"I am glad that you are well," Varnol told Era. "And that she was captured swiftly."

"I am glad that you have recovered, Varnol," she smiled. "As you have no doubt suspected, Kennol and I have declared ourselves as mates."

"Congratulations, milady," Varnol dipped his head.

"And I am pregnant," she added, and Varnol's gaze snapped up to meet her, his crimson eyes wide with shock. "The markings have already appeared, but I have concealed them with magic."

Varnol frowned. Their people's pregnancies lasted for eighteen months, and the markings appeared after six months, while the other signs began to show after nine. As far as he had seen, she did not bear the other signs yet, which meant she was somewhere in that range.

That would mean she had been sleeping with someone other than a sex slave or a slave before the attempted assassination, and if she was taking on Kennol as her mate, then their alliance had formed before the assassination.

"The child is not Kennol's," Era informed Varnol, who realized his gaze had turned to the other man. He looked back to his mistress. "It seems that one of the slaves I slept with impregnated me."

If Varnol could feel even greater shock, he was sure that he would have. A red, impregnating a violet? It wasn't illegal, just highly improbable. The odds of it were so low, it was nearly unheard of. One in ten billion odds, nearly.

He wasn't sure how many slaves she had slept with, but the father would never be identified. The baby would be branded a slave immediately, and even though it would be treated as a baby initially, it would begin being trained for its future as a slave the moment it could be.

"Congratulations," Varnol said hesitantly, deciding to pretend that he believed the baby's to be Kennol's due to her other announcement. It would make it seem like he had come to the obvious conclusion of their unison before and hadn't quite heard what she said about the actual father. It was possible she was mistaken, after all. Violets could have children between each other quite early, even if the odds of a child between them was low. "A child between you and Lord Kennol would be quite the gifted child."

"The child is not Kennol's," she told him. "As we did not have sex until after the assassination."

That certainly changed things, but Varnol could continue to pretend he did not initially realize what she had said, too shocked by the news of her pregnancy to properly understand it.

"So the child belongs to one of your slaves," Varnol said. "Would you like me to-"

"-stop pretending that you hadn't already come to that conclusion?" She smiled. "Thank you, Varnol, but you have been my personal slave long enough for me to know how intelligent you are. As for the child, lowborns are permitted to have children with the permission of their clan-head."

"Oh," Varnol realized that the child might be his. "So you will check upon his birth to see if I am the father, milady? I thank you for the honor of your mercy."

"The check is not required," Era told him. "As you are the only I have slept with in more than a year. You are the father, Varnol. If you wish to raise the child, then I will permit it. If not, then he will be entered into my clan as a slave."

"Do not decide immediately," Kennol told Varnol. "You have only just recovered, and will take some time to adjust to your new status and settle in. You have eleven months before your son will be born."

"So it is a boy?" Varnol asked.

"Yes," Era answered, moving her hand down to her stomach, and a moment later, the spell concealing the markings faded, revealing them. "You can see for yourself."

Varnol nodded, identifying the markings around her stomach as being the ones for a boy, a single child.

"I see," he said. "If it is okay with your ladyship and your lordship, I would like time to think it over. I do not believe I will be able to raise him in my service to you, but cannot make a decision just yet on if I should take him or allow him to be collared."

"That is fine," Era told him. "You have until his birth to decide. If you haven't decided by then, he will be collared."

Varnol nodded, and after a few moments, he realized what they were discussing. He was going to be a father.

He passed out from shock.