Part III: Hope
After crying himself to sleep, Nex awoke to the sound of a whip striking the northern slave he shared a tent with. His bare feet sank into the cold earth. Stepping outside, the metallic scent of blood struck him as he saw the slave tied to a plank, back bleeding, whip cracking mercilessly with each strike.
Blood had darkened the sand beneath the plank, soaking into the dirt like it belonged there.
When the slave fainted, one guard said to another, "I told you it'd take less than fifteen," accepting a pouch of silver.
Nex didn't understand what either he or the northern slave had done to deserve this. He began to think he should have died in the Grand Bazaar Massacre. Previously, he'd believed luck saved him—now, he felt punished for escaping.
He wanted to give up. Looking at the sky, he sighed. Remembering Bewolf, relief washed over him—he was ready. He planned to snatch a guard's blade and let them kill him.
But before he took a step, he heard the faint sobbing of a baby, as if calling him. Turning, he saw the infant resting in Tazan's lap as she tried to feed it. Realization struck him—he had to protect this child.
No one had protected Nex in his childhood except Lucy and Sarah. Leaving this infant with someone like Abigail or a common family would condemn the child to misery.
His first thought was obedience. Perhaps if he obeyed Abigail and Alexander, they'd spare him and his friends. Yet a memory from childhood quickly dispelled that idea.
He recalled a young servant who attended the twins. At first, they teased him, blaming him for trivial things like a broken vase—minor trouble for royals, but punishable by whipping for a servant. Obedience made the servant a regular victim; Alexander's laughter, like nails scraping bone, echoed through the halls, while Abigail feigned kindness.
Eventually, they grew bored. Abigail falsely accused the servant of assaulting her when alone in her room, convincingly crying to the head maid. The emperor, furious at the insult to imperial pride, ordered the servant's limbs severed one by one, reducing him to a crawling husk. Food was thrown to him daily; when he begged for death, his tongue was cut out to silence his pleas.
Only Sarah recognized Abigail's deceit, knowing Abigail's sword skill made the accusation absurd. Defying imperial cruelty, Sarah ended the servant's suffering with a swift execution.
Nex saw himself in that servant. Obedience wasn't an option.
Next, Nex considered fighting—killing the twins to reclaim his royalty. Yet that thought quickly faded. The twins were here on their father's orders, guarded constantly. Even if successful, murdering imperial heirs was treason.
Escape became his only option. Nex needed to track guards' movements and quietly communicate with his friends. The muddy ground in their tent was perfect for hidden messages.
He knew escaping from Alexander and Abigail was necessary; they were irredeemably evil despite believing themselves righteous.
As the northern slave regained consciousness, guards splashed him with cold water and resumed whipping. Nex thought guards losing their bets would be angry, but instead, the silver pouches lay forgotten as they laughed uncontrollably—a sound like nails hammered into flesh, jagged, grating, inhuman.
Nex watched royal guards laugh, taunting their broken victim. How could men sworn to honor behave like beasts? He finally understood.
This empire was built on lies, run by monsters, and fed by silence.
The true evil wasn't only the imperial family—it was the empire itself, and everyone in power sustaining its cruelty and injustice.
Nex knew clearly: the empire needed change. Reforming the system—the nobles, army, royal family—was impossible without first dismantling it.
Tonight, he'd secretly tell his friends his plan.
First, he'd ask Tazan about guards' rotations and personalities.
From Actaeon, he'd get details about the camp's surroundings and the best route back into the empire.
His goal was finding an ally in High Knights—the only people bold enough to defy the emperor.