“You don’t like it?” Stick asked, demanding an explanation.
"I’m strictly against this plan," PP began, his voice steady. “It’s foolish.”
“Foolish? What do you mean by that?”
"It’s a reckless rebellion,” PP said. “I can’t allow the weak to be hurt because the nobles want to escape. The Adventurers aren’t as merciful as you think."
Stick’s eyebrows narrowed.
"Do you hate me, PP?" Stick asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“What?” PP lowered his chin to level his eyes with Stick’s, looking for clarification. “No, I don’t hate you.”
"Then tell me," Stick continued, his eyes locking onto PP’s. "Would you have killed me back in the pit, when I was the weakest among us?"
PP’s eyes darkened, and he didn’t respond.
Stick pressed on. “Would you have killed me back in the pit?”
PP hesitated before answering. “Yes. I would have.”
Stick straightened up. “Then why are you lying to me about protecting the weak, when some Adventurer can make you kill others that easily?”
“Because back then, you were a danger to yourself and to others. You were talking about breaking out and caused unrest. And now, you’re putting others in danger again. You’ll get others killed with this plan of yours.”
Stick’s heart tightened. "Is that a threat?"
PP shook his head slowly. "No. I’m asking you to wait for Cassandra. It’s not worth getting people killed. Better to endure until we’re freed than to rebel now. It’s reckless and it’s selfish."
Stick’s frustration bubbled to the surface. "Aren’t you tired of the Adventurers’ control over us? How they play with our lives? The Lords will be killed, and sooner or later, this way of living will kill the rest of us. You can’t be complacent with that."
PP’s eyes bore into Stick’s. “I’ve been a slave for over twenty years, long before the Adventurers arrived. My people have been oppressed for as long as I can think. I’ve lost countless friends to blind revolutions that failed. Sometimes the rebels among us were successful and our oppressors fell. But that just led to another oppressor enslaving us again. I’ve had masters that were nicer. I’ve had masters that were crueler. However, all of them punished those who rebelled. I was spared because I never participated. I stayed complacent. When the rebels were cut down by guards, I stayed complacent. When my friends got executed by the new masters, I stayed complacent. When the Adventurers started calling me PP, I stayed complacent. I know what it takes to endure, to survive.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Stick’s voice rose. "Is that why you’re always alone?”
“You won’t live long if you stick to those playing hero.”
The words lingered in the air. Stick took a deep breath. It was the longest conversation he had with the big man. If there was any point where he’d get any answers, it would be then.
“Is that why you told the others that I’m a Player back then? You wanted to brand me as an outcast, so that I won’t have help in ‘rebelling’? Even though you know how much it hurts to be isolated from the others? How much pain loneliness brings?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“All those months of loneliness and suffering mean nothing to you?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Stop lying to me! You knew from the very first day.”
PP’s face softened for a moment. “I didn’t reveal your secret. But I’m glad it turned out this way. It kept everybody safe.”
“Fuck you! Tell that to Montgomery.”
The big man’s face turned sombre again. Then he got up.
“You’re half the man you think you are,” he said quietly, leaving Stick alone in the tent.
It took a while for his breath to stop shaking. To calm down, he decided to visit the rock outside of camp. He sat down on its cold, jagged surface, which helped cool his anger down. Then he got an idea. He looked around the rock for the spot he had hidden the soap in and after some finger-numbing shovelling he found it. He rubbed some snow on it, until the dirt was washing off and the smell started to come through. It was a relaxing, flowery aroma that reminded him of his first days in the camp. He looked closely at the soap in his hands. How can I stay complacent, when I am not even allowed to properly clean myself? Why are the Players allowed to have everything?
By the time the day started to dawn, his talk with PP had become a memory. He considered putting the soap in his Inventory, but feared that maybe some of the other Players might inspect it before the big day came. Instead, he buried it back in the dirt and covered that spot with snow. Better safe than sorry.
On his way back to camp he saw the servants leaving the shanty town to prepare the mansion for the Baron’s morning routine. He spotted Lydia talking to Timothy and Timothy gesticulating in the air. Timothy made an especially wide motion with his hands and Lydia started to laugh. It was cute seeing them like this. They must know each other for a long time.
image [https://i.imgur.com/zNjObKM.jpeg]
He never saw the other slaves going on about their day before. The servants were dressed more elegantly, their bodies not hardened by the tedious manual labour that the miners had to perform. A concern started to raise in his head. These people weren’t fighters. Will they really be okay after this? Am I really selling the others a pipe dream?
The following days Stick was unable to shake the doubt that had settled in his chest. He went to bed uneasy, PP’s words echoing in his mind. He tossed and turned for hours and when he finally did drift off, he was plagued by vivid dreams. One time he saw a sick, ginger-haired man being crushed by two collapsing towers. The image was so real, so horrifying, that Stick jolted awake at the exact moment the towers made contact with the man. I wonder what that was about.
His restless nights continued until the big day of their escape and he was concerned that he might not have the energy pull through with the plan. On the big day Stick’s fatigue was obliterated when he awoke to a new entry in his [Status]. The field next to his [Class] was no longer empty. If Emilia and Lucille were right, this was his birthday present for coming of age. He had received the [Unbound] class. A smile formed on his face. Today’s the day!