The tension in the village square was so thick it seemed to cling to every breath. The headman, who had just moments before worn an expression of cold authority, was now visibly shrinking in the presence of Sora. A strange sense of awe had settled over the villagers as they watched her. Standing tall, her gaze firm and unyielding, Sora exuded a kind of authority beyond her age or stature—almost… divine. The air around her seemed to hold weight, something I’d never felt, as if an invisible presence commanded reverence.
The headman was the first to bow his head, his attitude completely reversing from the defiance he'd shown earlier. His voice trembled as he stammered out apologies, his eyes darting between Sora and the villagers who had gathered around. “My Lady, forgive us, forgive us, we were… we were misinformed. I-I had no idea…” His voice trailed off, and he dropped to his knees in the dirt, his hands clasped together in a desperate show of humility.
Sora regarded him for a long moment, her face expressionless, her voice steady but cold. “You’ve made a grave error,” she announced, her voice loud enough to reach the crowd that had gathered in silence. Her words rang through the village square, causing some of the onlookers to shuffle in unease. “An error not only against these children and their brother but against the principles of justice and honor in this land.”
The headman’s face flushed, and he remained on his knees, unable to meet her gaze, muttering apologies as if each one could somehow erase his guilt. The onlookers stared in shock, the air buzzing with the sound of their collective whispers and murmurs.
“Gather the villagers,” Sora commanded the headman, her voice sharp and unyielding. “They all need to witness this.” Her gaze hardened. “I will see justice done here.”
The headman’s expression shifted, and he scrambled to his feet, moving through the square like a frightened rabbit, calling out to the villagers in a hurried, almost fearful tone. More villagers poured into the square, their eyes wide with curiosity, their faces taut with expectation as they looked to Sora, whose mere presence seemed to impose order and silence.
Once a sufficient crowd had gathered, she turned to address them all, her voice carrying through the open air with clarity and purpose. “What has happened here is not just a failure of this man,” she said, nodding toward the headman, “but a failure of understanding justice.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over the villagers, holding each gaze with intensity. “Laws exist not only to protect those with wealth and influence but to uphold the dignity and rights of everyone, no matter their status.”
Some of the villagers exchanged uncertain glances, their faces a mix of curiosity and confusion. For them, a noblewoman was likely something only heard of in stories or seen from afar—never one who would stand here, advocating for their rights. Sora continued, her voice steady and unwavering. “It is illegal to brand anyone a slave without proper cause or due process. What you see before you are a direct violation of these laws.”
She let her words settle over them like a stone sinking into the water, her gaze steady, capturing the attention of everyone in sight. “From this moment forward,” she said, her tone growing even more resolute, “if any landlord, headman, or noble should attempt to misuse their power over you, I urge you to seek out the lord in Ortysia. And if they ignore your pleas, you need only mention that you will take your case to Lady Nadea of Jalmyrys herself.”
A hush fell over the villagers. The mention of Nadea’s name sent ripples through the crowd, and I noticed several faces light up with something that looked almost like hope. I could feel a shift in the energy around us as the villagers absorbed her words, many of them nodding and whispering to one another in agreement.
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As Sora’s speech continued, I turned my attention to the injured man and his siblings. Silvana was kneeling beside them, tending to their wounds with gentle care. She had managed to wipe away the grime from their faces, revealing their exhausted yet relieved expressions. The older girl—Alea, I would later learn—had a faint smile on her face, and her younger brother, Phasos, looked at her with wide, grateful eyes, clutching her hand as if it were the only thing tethering him to safety.
When Sora finished her speech, I took a deep breath and approached the man who, just an hour ago, had been chained and helpless. Now, with the chains gone and his head held high, he seemed to regain a sliver of dignity. His eyes were still glassy with unspilled tears, and he looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought my family and I were done for. The moment they branded us, I thought all hope was lost.”
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection to this man. “What’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Nathanos,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the children who were now huddled beside Silvana, looking up at him with adoration and relief. “And these are my siblings, Alea and Phasos.”
I crouched down, offering the children a reassuring smile. “You’re safe now,” I said, my words gentle but firm. “No one is going to hurt you again.”
Alea looked at me, her eyes welling up with tears, while Phasos clung to her hand, nodding slowly. For the first time since we’d entered the village, I saw genuine smiles on their faces. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Turning back to Nathanos, I asked, “What will you do now? Do you have a plan?”
He shook his head, the pain of loss and uncertainty flickering across his face. “I don’t have a home anymore,” he admitted. “Our land was taken… and my parents…” He trailed off, his voice thick with grief. “But I do have some skills in combat,” he added, his tone strengthening with a touch of pride. “I was trained as a gladiator. I fought in arenas for years.”
The memory of watching him fight in the tournament flashed through my mind. I remembered his strength, his skill—he had been a fierce opponent. It was hard to reconcile that image with the man standing here now, vulnerable and stripped of everything. But as he spoke, I saw a glimmer of that fighter’s spirit return.
I took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders. “I could use someone with your skills,” I said slowly. “My group is always in need of experienced fighters. And if you join us, I can promise you a fair wage—ten denars a day. And more importantly,” I glanced at the children, “I’ll make sure Alea and Phasos are cared for. They’ll have food, shelter, and a chance at an education.”
Nathanos’s eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought he might break down. But instead, he nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For everything. I never thought… I never thought anyone would help us.”
As he spoke, a familiar robotic voice echoed in my mind, jolting me with its suddenness. *New Companion Acquired.* The words hung in my thoughts, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction—knowing that we had gained not just a skilled fighter but a person whose loyalty was forged in gratitude.
As the crowd began to disperse, murmuring about what they had witnessed, Sora approached me, her face softer than I’d ever seen it. The cold authority she’d held moments ago was gone, replaced by something almost vulnerable.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she said quietly, her gaze holding mine. “Not many would have taken such a risk for me.”
I shrugged, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “Sometimes, doing the right thing is worth the risk, but I think we need to talk about something can you come with me for a while”. I asked. Her response was swift a nod and she pointed me in a direction we went in that direction together as I had a lot of questions in my mind.
Nathanos gathered his siblings, holding them close as if he couldn’t believe they were truly safe. For once, the village square felt calm, a strange peace settling over it. As we prepared to leave, I realized that this small act of defiance, this simple victory, meant more to me than I could put into words.