In the middle of the night, after Baring's proposal, in the northern district of Auroria, stood the Silver Fortress, a slave prison. Saukel, back to return his unsold prisoners, was escorted by a tall, sturdy woman with long red hair. She appeared to be the prison's executioner, judging by the axe she carried behind her back.

"I'm surprised to not see the warden. I didn't expect that it would be you, Octavia, who would escort me!" said Saukel.

Octavia replied coldly, "I'd say you're lucky that it's not him. You haven't sold any of them."

"That's true, but I told you earlier! Edgar Baring is offering a million for that White Wick! If I'd known she'd be worth that much, I'd have begged the warden to let me sell her when she was younger! She's been here for fifteen years, hasn't she? Such a waste, it's unforgivable!" Saukel exclaimed.

"Shut up! I don't care about that girl, but hearing you talk like that disgusts me," Octavia retorted.

Saukel immediately fell silent, not wanting to irritate her further. The two slaves, chained at the arms and neck, were still following them, kept on a leash by the woman. They reached the top floor of the fortress, where she freed them before shoving them into their special cell, just as dirty as the others. The Arubaean gave them a dark glare, which made the woman smile, as she found him ridiculous in his condition. Then she and Saukel set off again, leaving them alone as always, after so many years.

"Octavia, you'll excuse me, but I can't stop wondering what's keeping you here. A woman as determined and competent as you would have a place elsewhere, in a far better world like the Imperial Guard. After all, you're from..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Octavia cut him off coldly, "Don't worry about me. Everyone has their reasons for staying. You'd better concentrate on your business."

As they walked away, the two prisoners remained silent for a moment, listening to the sound of their footsteps fade. Once far enough away, the young woman with the white wick collapsed to the ground. She broke down and couldn't stop crying, while holding her hair, which she hated so much. The prisoner beside her looked at her, saddened by her condition. She'd been locked up in this prison with him for fifteen years, since she was six.

He protects her as if she were his daughter, but chained and locked up as they are, there's not much he can do except comfort her in those moments in the cell. He went over to her and stroked her head, trying to calm her, even though he couldn't find the words to reassure her. He knew too well the pain of isolation and the cruelty of these places, as well as the dehumanization of prisoners at the slave markets she had never known before this one. For years, they had shared the same cell, supporting each other.

"Carolina... We have to stay strong. One day, all this suffering will end, I promise," he said gently.

She lifted her face, her eyes glistening with tears as she desperately sought some semblance of hope in the words of her fellow captive. But in the darkness of their cell, even hope seemed lost. She sat up straight, her arms around her knees, where she rested her head. Then she looked toward a corner of their cell where a small, severely damaged picture book lay on the floor.

"I don't believe it anymore, Bojan," she murmured. "All these stories of legends are just to lull children into illusions, it's all false hope."

The man's gaze turned to the ground, feeling somewhat guilty. After all, it was him who, for all those years, had supported Carolina, encouraging her not to lose hope and to keep believing that they would one day be free.

"I know it's hard. But we can't give up. We have to keep hoping, even when everything looks bleak," he said with quiet resilience.

The girl buries her head in her arms, her tears and nose still streaming.

"How... How do you keep hope in a place like this? There's nothing but submission, torture and death in this prison. Just a few days ago, I heard the cries of a man coming from ' the purgatory', I can't take it anymore."

Bojan smiled weakly at her, then picked up the worn picture book lying on the floor. He opened it carefully, revealing faded images Carolina had drawn long ago, when she was a little girl. On the cover was a child's drawing of a hero with a large sword, waving it skywards with a big smile.

"Because even in the darkest times, you have to believe in something, Carolina," he said, handing her the book.

She looked up from the picture book Bojan was holding, which she had drawn herself some ten years ago, based on the story he had told her. The title was "The Little Hero", representing the story's main character. He was one of the three heroes of four hundred years ago. Although he was very young and small in stature, he possessed determination and a fiery spirit, freeing people and putting smiles back on their faces with his kindness, inherited from his innocence and dreams. He fought valiantly with a magic sword and his soft and shining magic, which set him apart from the rest.

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At his side were the other two heroes, whom Carolina hadn't detailed as much. In fact, they weren't even drawn afterwards, so much so that she only had an interest in the Little Hero as a child. Even so, one of them, obviously a girl given the triangle skirt, could be seen wearing a long hat. The story was simple enough for even a child to understand, with the little hero traveling with his companions through Primis, helping many people.

As the story progressed, the drawings became more and more colorful, leading to a page with slightly more details. This one, telling the story of the liberation of slaves from a certain "Golden Fortress" in a large southern city, the little hero had attacked it and freed everyone before fleeing with his friends on a boat belonging to a sailor with who they were friends. From the deck of the ship, he shouted that he would free all the oppressed imprisoned in similar places.

Cheered on by the crowd, he disappeared, and despite the wait, no one ever saw him again. Prisoners in other fortresses had heard of the story and prayed every day for the return of a hero, even hoping for the Little Hero's return...

Bojan gently closed the book, noticing that Carolina had fallen asleep on the floor, soothed by the story he had told her for the umpteenth time. He smiled at her and put the book down beside her, then moved away to lie against the wall, closing his eyes to rest in his turn.

At the same time, on Saukel and Octavia's side, they arrived at the exit of the fortress and she was ready to ask him to get out of the way when they were surprised by the opening of the large doors. They hadn't expected a visit so late at night.

A tall man, whose muscles seemed about to crack his uniform, entered the building, a bag thrown over one shoulder and a cigar in his mouth. Octavia straightened up immediately, bringing her hand to her forehead in salute, while Saukel, trembling, took a step back as he recognized the man.

"Welcome back to the Silver Fortress, Mr. Warden," Octavia said formally.

The man stopped in front of Octavia and Saukel, his gaze piercing and tired behind a cloud of cigar smoke. The director of the Silver Fortress, Herman, exuded an aura of incredible power and authority. His eyes quickly scanned the two people in front of him, before settling on Saukel.

"Saukel, I see you're back empty-handed. Again," Herman said.

Saukel, trembling slightly, lowered his eyes. He knew the director's patience was limited.

"Mr. Warden, I... I can explain everything. The banker, Edgar Baring is interested in the girl with the white wick. He's willing to pay a million for her. He's given me an appointment in..."

"Silence! Is this true, Octavia?" interrupted Herman.

"I have nothing to prove it, but from what I've heard about this banker, it wouldn't surprise me. These people are willing to spend fortunes to inflate the value of their property beyond its true price," Octavia replied.

"I don't like speculation. Saukel, you have a chance to redeem yourself. I'll wait for the exact sum of this transaction, and perhaps I'll consider not throwing you in a cell for your incompetence."

Saukel nodded vigorously, relieved to have an opportunity to redeem himself.

"Yes, Mr. Herman. The transaction will take place in a week, you'll have everything by then, I swear!"

He left the fortress as quickly as he could, Herman watching him go with a scornful look, then turning to Octavia.

"Make sure he doesn't pull any of his usual tricks. And I'd like you to prepare the girl with the white wick tomorrow. If this offer is real, we need to be ready to make her as presentable as possible."

"Understood, sir."

Herman headed for his office, cigar still in mouth, his heavy footsteps echoing through the fortress corridors. Octavia followed, intrigued by his return at such a late hour. Once there, he settled into his armchair and crushed his cigar in the metal ashtray on his desk. Octavia, arms crossed, stood at the entrance to the room and asked:

"How was your meeting at Zephiria?"

The director heaved a sigh, releasing a cloud of smoke, then rested his head against his fist, elbow resting on the desk.

"I hate moving around, even more so in the capital. Damn imperial guard. If only one of the three colonels were based in Auroria, it would have saved me this miserable train journey."

"I see, this meeting, did it have anything to do with the letter that was stolen from us recently?"

"Indeed it did. If it hadn't been stolen, I wouldn't have had to go there."

From his bag he pulled out a stylized wooden box, adorned with gold and locked by a complex lock requiring a magic key to open. He placed it on his desk and explained to Octavia that the colonel had instructed him to keep it safe in the fortress until he came to retrieve it for a secret expedition.

"He didn't give me much detail, just that this box is to remain here until further notice."

He then picked up a wanted poster showing a rough drawing of a red-haired man, a tattoo on his cheek and his face half-hidden by a scarf. The reward for his capture was one hundred gold coins, as long as someone brought him back alive.

"This guy is prowling around the fortress. He probably knows about this exchange from the letter he stole. Expect him to resurface at any moment," Herman said, forcefully grabbing the thief's poster.

"Aye, aye, sir."

Herman slid the box into a drawer under his desk, carefully locking it before signalling to Octavia to go away. He then leaned back a little further in his armchair, seeking a moment's rest after his long journey.

Meanwhile, behind the window of the warden's office, a silhouette loomed on a distant rooftop. A man, his scarf fluttering in the wind, watched the scene attentively from a distance, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

End of chapter 10.