Cadmun crossed his arms. “What are you waiting for? Go ahead!”

“You’re bald.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” Cadmun sarcastically said with a frown.

“No, what I mean is, you’re still bald,” Stick reiterated. “How is that possible after so many months? I’ve never seen you shave.”

“How is it possible that no one here is growing a beard?” Cadmun answered with a question.

Stick hadn’t noticed before, but this oddity seemed to not be exclusive to Cadmun.

“It’s because the Adventurers killed the Gods,” Cadmun explained. “Or at least it started happening after the God of Death died three years ago.”

“What started happening?”

“I should rather say it stopped happening,” Cadmun ran his palm over his head. “We didn’t think it was a problem at first.”

“What wasn’t?”

“At first our hair stopped growing. That was odd, sure, but nothing alarming,” Cadmun explained. ”Then we noticed that our eldest wouldn’t die of old age. By now it’s been three years without a single natural death, at least none we’ve heard of. Something that the Carnifex knights have jealously discussed before.”

“That’s incredible! Sounds like a blessing!”

“We too thought that was a blessing in the beginning.”

An uneasy feeling grew in Stick’s stomach.

“But, then our children stopped growing,” Cadmun’s face looked ice cold in the moonlight. “Haven’t you noticed that the lords look too young to be seventeen years old?”

“I haven’t put much thought to that,” he had to admit.

“Does Timothy look like an eighteen-year-old to you?”

The realisation slapped him right across the face. Eighteen? That can’t be true! He’s just a boy!

Cadmun noticing that his point landed continued: “What do you think does a conqueror do when the conquered society doesn’t age? When babies stay babies? When foetuses never grow to become a human and have to die? When no more offspring is birthed?”

He felt like he already knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

Cadmun answered himself: “He keeps the useful ones.”

Stick felt like he was about to throw up. What the hell is wrong with those people?

“Calm down now, don’t make that face,” Cadmun said, “there’s still good news.”

“What kind of good news could there be? We’re condemned to live as slaves for eternity!”

“No, not for all eternity,” Cadmun tried to assume a more hopeful tone. “Adventurers still age normally. We’ll outlive them someday.”

“And when will that be? When the Baron dies of old age in eighty years?”

Cadmun chuckled. “Maybe. But before that Lord Alastair will get us out of here.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Stick gave Cadmun a critical look.

“So what? We escape and wait for the enemy to die of old age? That’s your masterplan? And what then? What if we’re wiped out by a pack of Dire Wolves one day? Or an accident occurs and someone falls into a hole. One by one we die off until one day all of humanity is just gone.”

“You just have to trust in him, that he’ll find a solution for that too. He has studied the Gods more than anyone else in the world. Given enough time, he’ll uncover all of their secrets. And he’ll have plenty of time, as long as Carnifex doesn’t find him first.”

Cadmun tried to calm him down, but the whole conversation made him giddy. I can’t trust someone who I don’t know if he even is alive to be our only hope of escape. We have half a year to get the twins out of here. If the Baron gets rid of them first, then we’ll have a lifetime of suffering in front of us, before we can be free. I need to make a move as soon as possible!

“You sure put a lot of trust into that man,” Stick said.

“He’s the smartest person I know,” Cadmun retorted.

“But he is not here. How can you be so sure?”

“There’s nothing confirmed until we see a corpse.”

Damn it. Tired of the conversation, he picked up the tent. Cadmun picked up on that clue and walked away without further discussion.

“Good night,” Sir Frost said.

“Good night,” Stick replied.

His gaze jumped from tent to tent. It’ll take a very convincing plan if I want their support.

When he opened the flap of the tent, he was surprised to see most of the slaves still awake and waiting for him in silence. They asked with big eyes how it felt to stick it to Cadmun, to talk back to their superior. They were careful to talk in hushed tones, as to not be heard by the other tent. The more he explained how good it felt to stand his ground, the more captivated the men were. It was clear that they admired his rebellious spirit. They were fed up with the complacent attitude from the Sirs and Lords. They didn’t want to wait around anymore. They wanted to take action. They wanted Stick. Slowly but surely, he’d built a following without realising it. If he was able to convince a few high LVLs to join him as well, then they could actually make it. Watch out Bonatelli! Watch out Carnifex! Watch out World! Stick Arslan, the Greatest Hero arrived!

He took a look around the roughly twenty men around him, eager to hear him speak. He only had one question in his mind.

image [https://i.imgur.com/2H2yN09.jpeg]

“When is the next holiday?”