Eighteen years had passed since the fall of the Arctic Empire.
In the northeastern part of the Kingdom of Deogon, near the border of Eshmore, lay a crowded farming village known as Canos.
The village was home to a small number of commoner, but the majority of its population were slaves.
Though Canos might have appeared peaceful from a distance, a harsh reality lurked beneath the surface.Discrimination and cruel treatment were rampant, rooted in a rigid social hierarchy. Slaves were treated like tools, used, abused, and easily discarded.
The Kingdom of Deogon had long maintained a neutral stance, even before the fall of the Arctic Empire.
It once traded regularly with the Arctic Empire, whose lands had bordered its own.
Thanks to its fertile lands, Deogon prospered through trade with other kingdoms and nations across the western continent. Geographically, the kingdom bordered only Eshmore to the east and the ruins of the fallen empire to the north, while its southern and western frontiers opened to the sea.
With these advantages, the kingdom continually strengthened its military power and maintained good relations with several neighboring kingdoms and nations.
What set Deogon apart was its deep reliance on slavery. The kingdom regularly allocated funds to purchase slaves from other nations to perform labor-intensive work.
Nearly all farm labor and manual jobs were carried out by slaves rather than by peasants or commoners. This system significantly boosted the kingdom's productivity and allowed the broader society to focus its manpower on innovation, both in academic pursuits and practical skills.
To maintain control over the slave population, the kingdom established a Labor Guild, a branch of the Adventurers' Guild tasked with overseeing slaves throughout the kingdom.
The Labor Guild provided a small daily wage to slaves upon completion of their assigned tasks. Slave camps, guarded and maintained by the guild, were set up as housing for the workers.
Though the wages were minimal, they offered slaves a fleeting glimpse of freedom. However, every slave bore a slave mark on the upper palm of their right hand, a constant reminder of their status.
However, farm work was not restricted by class or status. For those who were powerless or uneducated, working the fields remained a viable option.
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It was a sunny afternoon, typical weather in Canos. Farmers and slaves toiled under the harsh sunlight, working relentlessly.
Beneath the small shade of a rest area, where laborers were permitted to eat and recover, a commander dressed in a knight's uniform approached, flanked by two knights. The trio walked steadily toward the shaded shelter.
"Listen up ! We need five of you to help us carry supplies into the forest."
A knight commander barked the order as he stood near a shaded rest area for farmers.
"Gather outside and wait, we'll be back after we are done with the preparation."
With that, the commander turned on his heel and marched off with his subordinates, leaving the farmers in tense silence.
After a brief silence, a voice broke through.
"As the leader of this group, I will go…. Anyone else ?"
"As the leader of this group, I'll go… Anyone else?"
A man in his forties, with a white beard and a strong, well-built frame, stood up and spoke.
When he asked, "Anyone else?" no one responded. The others sat in silence, their eyes lowered, afraid to speak.
Then, from the back, partially hidden from the rest of the group a man muttered nervously.
"…We'll be killed."
"What was that? You over there, is it Ken, right?"
The bearded man narrowed his eyes, straining to hear. He stepped slightly forward, trying to catch the words from the figure seated in the back, apparently Ken.
Ken suddenly stood up, his voice breaking with fear.
"Those soldiers won't protect us, Mr. Hex! I saw it with my own eyes. I was ordered to escort them once. They let my friend get eaten by those beasts, we were nothing but bait!"
The silence deepened. Ken's words gripped everyone with a chilling fear.
"I know, Ken… but if we don't go, they'll punish the entire group."
Hex, the group's leader, spoke with a hardened expression, his voice heavy with the weight of their reality.
"I'll go!"
The voice came from the youngest member of the group—a black-haired youth who raised his hand.
Hex turned and immediately recognized him.
As the young man volunteered, another laborer stepped forward.
"If even he's going, and he's not even a slave then I guess I've got no choice… Right, Alex?"
The young man was indeed Alex.
"Are you sure, Alex?" Hex asked, tension in his voice.
"At the very least, we have to escort them. Otherwise, the whole group will be punished."
After speaking, Alex glanced around. Most of the members were elderly—some crippled, others clearly unfit for the task.
Hex noticed his glance. He knew this young man well—Alex was kind and deeply aware of those around him. But he rarely spoke or showed his feelings openly. He almost always wore a blank expression, making it hard to guess what he was thinking.
After that there were another 2 volunteers joining the group.
With a confirmation, Hex led them outside the shade and waited for the knight commander to return.
Shortly after, two more volunteers stepped forward, moved by the moment.
With their decision confirmed, Hex led the small group out from under the shade, waiting for the knight commander to return.
Soon, the commander arrived with ten soldiers in tow, along with five large sacks meant for the volunteers to carry.
"Let's go. Grab those bags and move out!" the commander barked.
Without a word, the five volunteer farmers lifted the bags and followed the knights down the path.