Ral'thon started this day off like any other, cold, alone, and hungry. But, to be fair, that was better than his older siblings could say. After their parents' deaths, they'd opted to join the village guard like their father. While they'd been too young to fight, they found positions as servants for the guard, going and doing whatever the guards needed. So life had been relatively comfortable for them...until the raiders came.

Ral'thon didn't know if they'd died in the fire set to the billet or if the raiders had simply killed them with the rest of the guard. All he knew for sure was when the remaining captives were rounded up, they weren't there, and he was on his own.

When they'd been brought before the raid leader, Ral'thon had watched the large male beat and abuse the defiance out of several captives before his turn had come. So when the young argu'n was pulled forward by the leather straps around his wrists, he abased himself before the warlord without hesitation.

The badly scarred male laughed from his makeshift throne. "It's about time one of these spoiled villagers learned the way things work around here before we beat it through their thick skulls! Still, we need to be sure he knows his place... However, such submission should be rewarded. Only give him five lashes before putting him to work in the dining area!"

Ral'thon had never experienced something so agonizing in his short life. The male wielding the leather cords somehow knew how to find every crack and crevice between his underdeveloped backplates. At the first strike, he screamed in agony, struggling in vain against the larger male's grip. With each successive strike, Ral'thon felt like he was dying again as the edges of his vision faded into darkness.

After the "reward" of only five lashings, Ral'thon lay in place, his mind lost to numbness and the very slowly fading agony. Apparently, he'd laid too long because another agony drove itself into his stomach in the form of his tormenter's foot. "Get up welp, or you'll earn yourself another lesson!"

At those words, Ral'thon's mind filled itself with so much terror he found the strength to pick himself up and get moving, though he had no idea where or to what end. He'd been led to another area with fires, and disturbing smells, where he'd been ordered and shoved around, earning himself more slaps or kicks when he hesitated or made any mistakes. After the lashing, most of the first few days of his new life had passed in a blur, but that had been quite some time ago.

Ral'thon learned several vital lessons in those early days. First, his parents had taught him he couldn't rely on the strength and kindness of others for protection. Second, the villagers taught him that defiance without power was suicide. Third, his captors had taught him that submission did not guarantee safety. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to do so on his own strength, but since he was so much smaller and weaker than everyone else, it couldn't be the strength of his body that saved him. That only left the strength of his mind, so he watched, listened, and learned everything he could.

At first, that had been difficult. Working in the dining area offered little lessons other than how to carry a bowl of gruel without dropping any and how to dodge a backhand from a dissatisfied "patron" and then get lost in the crowd before further punishment could be followed through. But then he started listening to the raiders speak, and he learned things like who was assigned to what jobs, who was having a good day, and most importantly, who had grudges against each other.

He quickly found that he could pit his worst tormenters against each other by offering a little information here and a small lie there. The trick was to pretend to be more stupid and sycophantic than he was. After a couple of years of this, he even had his own private little information trade going on, with each of his regulars believing they were his primary confidant.

At first, his fellow servants envied his special treatment. One even threatened to reveal his double dealings with some higher-ranked raiders. So Ral'thon bribed him into silence by sharing his extra rations. Everything had continued as usual for a while, but soon the other male asked for more of Ral'thon's "extra share" in return for his continued silence.

Realizing this was a problem that would only grow, Ral'thon bribed another servant into making sure a guard's dagger was planted in the blackmailer's belongings, and that little problem solved itself. Still, there was another lesson to be learned here. He needed the other servants' happy if he wanted them not to make trouble for him, and better yet, he could bribe them into working for him.

Soon, all the servants in the dining area were getting a little extra every time they brought him helpful information, and they were all also aware of the price of betraying their "boss." With all the information, bribes, and blackmailing they were dealing with, Ral'thon's little empire grew and prospered like never before.

Unfortunately, it grew so much that it attracted the attention of the camp's warlord. A few threats and some follow-up torture later, Several of the servants had given up Ral'thon as the ring leader, and he now found himself bound hand and foot in front of the camp's warlord. Not that he blamed them. This wasn't like the worker who'd blackmailed him out of greed, enough lashes, and he'd give up anyone and anything to end the torment. If he survived this, he'd be sure to take it easy on their punishments.

The warlord glared down at Ral'thon with a frown. "This can't be right. The slaves must have lied to you. There's no way this whelp is in charge of his own waste, let alone at the center of the mongrels' little scheme!"

Another argu'n, who'd lashed Ral'thon before, shook his head. "I was quite thorough. I doubt any of them were capable of telling lies by the time I was done with them."

The warlord turned his attention back to Ral'thon. "We'll see. What do you have to say for yourself, whelp?"

Ral'thon didn't know what to say. So he had to buy himself some time. "I'm not sure what you mean, great Lord. I'm nothing but a humble servant!"

At that, the warlord's glare sharpened. "I remember you. You're the clever whelp, the one who learned his lesson quicker than the rest. You might be getting too smart for your own good. I'll give you one last chance. Are you the one behind the slave's little trading schemes?"

Realizing the wrong answer would likely result in his death, Ral'thon took a different approach. "I...I was just trying to survive, great Lord. I didn't mean to make any trouble for you or your men!"

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The warlord laughed. "Trouble? You didn't make any more trouble than a pack of unruly arlacks!" His visage noticeably darkened. "Still, it's no good letting you slaves get too ambitious. That was the whole point of your little introduction into our camp, so you'd know your place. But every year, at least one of you gets it in your head to take advantage of our lenient treatment of you. That's alright, though. I know from experience how to handle this. I just need to make one little example, and the rest of your ilk will fall in line quickly enough! Kill the brat and hang his body where the rest can see!"

Ral'thon's mind became a frantic blur as he tried to think of some way out of this mess. "But my Lord! I can be of service! Spare my life, and I'll tell you anything!"

The older male laughed again and shook his head. "And what secrets do you have that would be of any value to me? Do you think I care about the paltry scraps of information you overhear in the dining area? The petty dramas spoken of over soup and bread? At least die with some dignity, whelp. It might be the only noteworthy event of your life!"

Dignity? What good had that ever done for Ral'thon? But he did know what secrets pushed people to violence, and he shouted one like a blade, cutting through this ignorant male's derision. "I know who the real father of your 'son' is!"

A chill filled the room as if a deep freeze had appeared out of nowhere. Everything froze until the warlord approached the prone Ral'thon, spitting out the following words like each was a complete sentence. "What. Did. You. Say. Whelp?"

The older male grabbed Ral'thon by the throat and lifted him. "Don't make me repeat my question, whelp! You won't live for me to ask again!"

Ral'thon choked and gagged but struggled to get the words out anyway. "I said...I know...who your...son's father is!"

The warlord slammed Ral'thon against a pillar. "You'd best start making sense real quickly, or your death will be as slow and painful as I can make it!" But he loosened his grip just enough that the younger male could start speaking.

Ral'thon struggled to get the words out as quickly as he could. "You must have always known something was wrong with your son. He's not as strong or fierce as you, is he? Not a suitable heir to your power! One of your loyal inner circle isn't as loyal as you think!"

The warlord's anger was tangible. Every muscle in his body was straining to its limits. He spoke only one word. "WHO?"

Ral'thon looked the warlord in the eye, then shifted his gaze to the male who'd tormented him when he'd arrived.

The warlord dropped Ral'thon, who started scooting closer to the door. At first, the other argu'n protested. "You can't be serious! You're going to trust the word of some brat over..."

Ral'thon had been lying, but he'd seen several males react quite violently to a similar secret not long ago. This lie may have been closer to the truth than he'd imagined, or the other male was looking for an excuse because as Ral'thon made his way out of the tent, both the warlord and his subordinate had weapons drawn as they closed the distance between them. That was when he noticed not all the screaming was coming from inside the tent...

The camp was a maelstrom as the warriors fought unknown argu'n. It looked like the raiders were giving as good as they got in most areas, but their defenses seemed to be falling apart in a couple of locations. One centered around a terrifying large argu'n dyed in shades of black. He moved like a wild animal as he darted in and out of shadows like a fiend possessed. The other centered around a smaller, more plain-looking male, all the more terrifying for how he effortlessly slaughtered every warrior who dared approach him with the two swords he wielded like they were a part of his body.

Not knowing what to do and still bound hand and foot, Ral'thon tucked back into a corner, hoping all this would pass him by. After a few moments, the plain-looking monster of an argu'n walked up to the chief's tent, looked over at Ral'thon, and grinned before stepping inside. The sounds of fighting only lasted a few moments, then the monster walked out again, covered in considerably more blood than before despite not appearing to have a single scratch on him.

That was when the large black argu'n appeared out of nowhere. "Finished having your fun in there?"

The monster smiled back, but his grin seemed... off. "Fun? From these worthless curs? There wasn't one warrior in this camp worthy of my time! I might as well have been butchering women and children for all the resistance they offered!" As the last was spoken, the monster pointed a sword toward Ral'thon.

The larger argu'n swatted the blade aside, ignoring the murderous glare directed his way. "The Lord said any of the camp's captives were to be brought back unharmed. He's hoping to expand the workforce."

The monster lowered his swords but crouched down in front of Ral'thon, looking at him like he was only a bug. "Very well, I suppose I could always kill him later..."

The larger male shook his head. "You know De'haar, one day you'll threaten the wrong argu'n. It's going to be the death of you."

At that, 'De'haar' laughed. "Yeah, sure, I'm sure this whelp will get his revenge someday!"

-

Ral'thon was once again waiting for a meeting with another new master. He'd been told he was being set free, all the slaves were, yet he still had to meet this "Lord" who would decide his fate. He didn't feel very 'free' right now.

Finally, the door to the office opened and out walked one of the other slaves from the camp. Then, it was Ral'thon's turn.

As he walked into the room, the first things that caught Ral'thon's attention were the two massive guards. The second thing was the smaller male between them. He should have been dwarfed by the two guards, yet the smaller male's presence seemed to fill the room.

Ral'thon fidgeted under the male's gaze. Should he grovel like he had the first day in the camp, lie like his last, or do something completely different? With too many options, he simply remained silent.

After a few moments of silent observation, the Lord spoke. "Ral'thon, correct? I am Lord A'ngles. I understand you had quite the operation going among the other...indentured servants."

Ral'thon wasn't sure where this was going, but he didn't want to get into trouble just for trying to stay alive. "I didn't...I mean, I wouldn't...I was just trying to survive!"

A'ngles shook his head. "You misunderstand. That was not a complaint or accusation. That was recognition of an impressive accomplishment completed in a rather impossible situation. I, too, have ambitions that exceed my station, and I could use the assistance of someone as clever as you."

That...confused Ral'thon. "Exceeds your station? But you're a Village Lord! There's no greater station!"

A'ngles smiled. "No, there isn't...yet."

As he approached the younger male, A'ngles looked him over thoroughly. "What I'm planning is something that's never been done before. Something larger than my station or me, and to that end, I'll need someone to play specific roles and eventually inherit my ambitions. Would such an offer be of interest to you?"

Ral'thon stopped and thought. This male seemed to be working on something similar to what he'd created in the camp but on a much larger scale. But a large part of what Ral'thon had done involved lying, bribery, and even coercion. Did he really want to get involved in all that again? "And what if I say no?"

A'ngles sighed as if regretful. "Then we'll find you a job in the village. You could be a metal worker, a hunter, or even an arlack trainer. It would be up to you. But you would never be at the center of something so...challenging ever again. I think that would be a waste of your potential, but I suppose that's for you to decide..."

Ral'thon thought some more. It had been exciting to be keeping track of so many things, orchestrating order from chaos. But, unfortunately, that had been somewhat soured by the constant threat of death overshadowing everything...but perhaps here, things would be different. "Tell me more about your offer."

A'ngles smiled as if closing in on the end of a satisfying hunt. "Well, to give you the freedom to do what is required, I will bring you into my family. In recognition of your new position and change in status, you'll also be given a new name... B'arthon, I think."

As Ral'thon...no B'arthon listened, A'ngles laid out a plan as brilliant as it was ambitious, and the new noble grinned.