Aris woke early, as usual, and followed his daily routine: a trip to the well, a quick wash, and brushing his teeth. Once finished he returned to the slave quarters, he stood in front of the worn out houses, waiting.
The other kids emerged from the houses within minutes, joining him in the assembly. A few, like Aris, who had woken early, came to stand in silence from the outside, all of them waiting for the enforcer's daily 'brainwashing' speech.
But today, something felt off. The enforcers, and even Garron, hadn't arrived at their usual time. Though it wasn't uncommon for Garron to skip a day, the absence of the enforcers was strange. The group waited for another twenty minutes, but still, no one showed. Some of the kids began to whisper among themselves, speculating on the cause of the delay.
Ten minutes later, Garron and his two followers appeared, but they weren't alone. Fred, dressed in a black shirt and grey pants, trailed behind them. A handkerchief was tied around his nose, as if trying to shield himself from the foul stench of the slave quarters.
Garron and his two followers were sweating, clearly nervous. "What's he here for?" Garron wondered inwardly. "It was only a few weeks ago that he took the slaves to the squire's station. And the monthly quotas aren't due for another week." Though Garron wore a smile, inside he was a tangled mess of anxiety inside. The enforcers also shared his unease, but unlike him, they weren't hiding their discomfort.
Fred scanned the slave kids in front of him, his eyes flicking from one to the next. "None of them are fit to join the young master's squire camp," he thought, his disdain barely hidden. These kids were nothing but dirty, ragged creatures with no value in his eyes. But the young master had insisted, demanding that Fred replenish his "slave soldiers"—and he had to pick few.
Garron, eager to please, stepped forward, his voice dripping with false reverence. "Sir Fred, it's truly an honor for someone of your stature to return to this miserable place. You should've sent someone in your stead. I would've taken care of everything." He made sure to bow low, his eyes darting nervously.
Fred may not have had real power, but his connection to the young master was enough to ruin Garron's life if he ever reported anything unfavorable. Better to stroke his ego now than risk the consequences later.
Fred's eyes narrowed, but his face remained neutral. He wasn't one to be easily swayed by flattery. "The young master needs more slave kids to replenish his 'soldiers,'" he said, his tone flat. "He ordered me to pick out the decent ones. But frankly, not a single one here is decent enough."
Garron blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. "But didn't you already take a few not too long ago? If you take more, there won't be anyone left to work the fields. My workforce will be decimated. How will I meet the monthly quotas?"
Fred's expression remained unchanged as he shot a cold glance at Garron. "That's not my problem. The young master's orders come first." His gaze shifted back to the group of kids, dismissing Garron's worries as irrelevant.
Garron's mind raced. "If he takes more, I won't be able to meet the quotas. But I can't just let him take my workers… His eyes roamed the crowd, settling on Aris, who was standing quietly among the other slave kids, then a plan began to form in Garron's mind "This might work " thought Garron.
As Aris caught Garron's gaze, an unsettling feeling churned in his stomach. "What's he planning?" Aris thought, wary. "I'm doing his work—improving both the quality and the quantity of his yield. If he doesn't want better results, then he wouldn't do what I fear he's about to do."
Garron pointed at Aris with an abrupt motion as he said "You. Come here."
Aris hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, the eyes of every slave kid fixed on him. Whispers rippled through the crowd, curiosity blooming as to why he'd been singled out. Fred, still scrutinizing the group, felt a stir of interest. "What's Garron up to?" he thought, watching Aris closely.
Aris stood between the assembled kids and Garron's followers, while Fred was standing at the back of Garron. Aris neither spoke nor greeted Garron because he could guess what he was about to do.
Garron moved closer to Aris and glanced back at Fred. Then he said, "Sir Fred, this slave boy you see here is the most intelligent slave I have ever encountered. He learns quickly, follows orders without complaint, and understands things that none of the other kids here do. He's worth five of them combined."
Fred's gaze flickered toward Aris again, this time assessing him more carefully. Garron's words were likely exaggerated, but if even half of it was true, then this one could be more useful than the others.
Seeing Fred's hesitation, Garron pressed on.
"I know you want strength, but think about it—brains and brawn together make the best warriors. This kid? He adapts, learns fast, and doesn't make the same mistake twice. With the right training, he'll rise above the rest. And unlike the others, he won't just be a sword on the battlefield—he'll be an asset."
Fred exhaled slowly. He wasn't interested in raising geniuses, but an intelligent fighter could be valuable. Strength alone didn't win battles—strategy and adaptability mattered too.
If the boy truly had potential, he could be turned into something useful. And if he failed? Well, the young master would still have another body to throw at the enemy.
"Fine," he said. "I'll take him."
Garron's shoulders relaxed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. He had solved his problem—his workforce remained intact, and he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout of losing too many slaves. What happened to Aris from now on was no longer his concern.
Aris However remained silent carefully analyzing the situation. "Predictable," he thought. He knew Garron was not that good but he thought that since they had something in common now something they were working toward together he would not betray him due to the benefits but Garron chose short-term benefits over long-term.
Besides that Garron was self-serving person, it made sense that he'd choose to sacrifice a single slave instead of losing several. And Fred? He wasn't making a rash decision either. He saw potential value and he knew Garron did not dare to lie to him or the young master, and that was enough for him to take action.
"It doesn't change anything. I was never planning to rot here forever. Becoming a squire was already part of my long-term goal after getting out—but plans are meaningless when reality moves faster than expected. At least I'm leaving this hellhole ahead of schedule." Aris thought.
Fred stood before Aris, scrutinizing him more closely. At a glance, he looked no different from the other slave kids—thin, dirty, and unremarkable. Yet, Fred chose to trust Garron's words. Not because he believed Garron to be honest, but because he knew Garron wouldn't dare to lie about something like this.
Without further hesitation, Fred turned away. "Follow me."
Aris obeyed without a word, and the two left the assembled slaves behind.
One of the enforcers, the one assigned to give the boy his seeds, frowned in confusion. After a brief hesitation, he stepped closer to Garron and lowered his voice. "Sir, what about the project he was supposed to do? And why did you praise him so much? You've only spoken to him once. What if he's not as intelligent as you claimed? If he fails to meet expectations, won't that mean you lied to the young master?"
Garron shot the enforcer a sidelong glance, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You're overthinking it," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Do you really think Fred cares whether the boy is as smart as I claimed? He just needed someone to take back, and I handed him the best option—one that keeps my workforce intact."
He crossed his arms, watching as Fred and the boy disappeared into the distance. "And if the boy turns out to be useless? That's Fred's problem, not mine. The young master gets his replacement, Fred gets what he came for, and I don't lose more bodies in the fields. It's a perfect trade."
A low chuckle escaped him. "Besides, that one isn't like the others. He's got ambition—he won't just sit back and accept his fate. He'll either climb or die trying, and either way, it won't come back to bite me."
Finally, Garron turned to the enforcer, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "So stop worrying. It's done."
"What about the project he was about to do" the enforcer asked. Garron shot the enforcer an unimpressed look. "The project?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What's more important—one boy playing farmer or keeping the rest of the slaves in the fields?"
He waved a hand dismissively, as if the question was beneath him. "Even if his little experiment worked, what's it going to do? A few extra sacks of rice? Who cares when we lose ten times that because half the workforce is gone? The young master doesn't give a damn about some new planting method. He cares about quotas, and right now, I need bodies in the fields to hit them."
With a wicked smirk, he added, "Besides, if the boy's as smart as I claim, he'll find a way to survive. If not, well… that's Fred's problem now, not mine."
Without waiting for another word, Garron turned away, his mind already on the next issue. The enforcer, left with no choice, swallowed his doubts and fell silent, knowing better than to argue further.