Chapter 118: Act 2: Chapter 51

Twenty-seventh day, Ninth Moon, 260 AC (+1 days)

Ryden POV

"And that, my lords, is what I recommend."

I took a deep breath as I finished my speech. It would win no awards, but I got through it.

Lord Baratheon hummed thoughtfully, while Rickard nodded. "That sounds reasonable," said Rickard. "A bit different than what we had envisioned, but Master Ryden does have experience."

"I am not inclined to agree," said Lord Baratheon. "Surely, it is better to have more men ashore quicker than it is to have material. I might agree if we were to have a repeat of the same situation that Master Ragnar faced on the island, but we won't. The island of Tyrosh is large, and we will only land if uncontested. There will be no forcing the issue."

"Of course, Lord Ormund, but we rarely get what we wish for," replied Rickard. "This is the home of the Tyroshi – it is settled land. Anywhere we land is close to some stronghold, and reinforcements are never far. The more men we have, the better we are able to fend off a strong attack. But the Tyroshi have shown a strong reluctance to large battles. They prefer to skirmish and delay – likely holding on hope for reinforcements from the mainland. The threat to the landing won't be a horde, ten thousand strong; it will be a quick skirmish that they hope to drive us off the island."

"True," conceded Lord Baratheon. "The tactics that Master Ragnar proposes aren't unfamiliar. He is essentially proposing we rely on castles rather than army camps for defense – a core tactic that we have relied upon for millennia."

"Exactly!" agreed Rickard. "If we ensure that the first landing of men has enough material already made to make crude fortifications, it ensures a safe landing for the rest of the fleet."

Steffon Baratheon, who stood attentively behind his father, asked, "Spreading out the fleet over a longer period of time also risks the fleet being caught by Tyrosh, does it not? A lot of our ships will be over-encumbered and vulnerable during a fight."

Lord Baratheon grinned viciously. "Ah, my son. Usually, you would have a point! But you have not read the latest letter yet! A large fleet was spotted near Lone Island! The Nine have set sail from their harassment of Lys and moved to attack us here! Fortunately, the Reachers are actually paying attention and, under the command of the Master of Ships, will be moving to engage them, alongside the Braavosi – who, for a change, actually fought in the Stepstones."

Steffon perked up. "Oh? Should we not delay then? What if Lord Velaryon loses?"

"Even if the worse happens, and they completely rout our ships, they will still need time to recover and repair their fleet. We will have a week or two of opportunity before we have to worry about them – and that is only if we lose severely."

Rickard whistled. "Is any of the Nine with the fleet?"

"That is unclear at this point, but there were some Far Eastern ships sighted, so it is possible that the Old Mother may be there. Samarro Saan was also present at Lys, but whether he left to join this attack is unknown."

"What of the Tyroshi fleet? Can they not trouble us still?" asked Steffan.

"That is a risk but not one I am concerned about. The Ironborn are still prowling around being a nuisance, and Braavos is pushing them back from Myr more and more every day."

"Would us attacking their home island not drive them all fleeing back here?"

"Ah, my son. If this were a proper place? It would. But some of those ships have no loyalty to Tyrosh and don't wish to die here. Some will turn pirate and haunt those coasts for years to come. But, if they do come to Tyrosh, the Braavosi will be nipping at their heels the whole way and, in the end, the Braavosi will also join in at the fight here."

"They won't bother to claim Myr?" asked Rickard.

Lord Baratheon shook his head. "The civil war there is not something to step into lightly. And Lys would protest Braavos getting a foothold in the Disputed Lands."

Steffan snorted. "Well, if they had done more, Braavos wouldn't have to."

Rickard smiled grimly. "Regardless, we may still see a naval battle here. But not for some time."

"Aye, there is less pressure on the fleet for now," replied Lord Baratheon. "Very well, I shall listen to Master Ragnar's advice." He nodded toward me. "My thanks, for your time, Master Ragnar. That will be all."

I bowed at the dismissal, but before I could leave, Rickard said, "Actually, if I may, Lord Ormund?" At Lord Baratheon's nod, he continued, "I believe Master Ryden should have command of this landing."

My jaw dropped.

Lord Baratheon looked puzzled. "You want Master Ragnar to be in charge of the entire landing?"

Rickard nodded. "He has proven to be able to handle pressure when things go wrong, and his experience would be invaluable."

Lord Baratheon shook his head. "I've already chosen someone to lead the landing."

Rickard remained dogged. "Second in command, then? His advice would still prove to be a boon."

"His men too?"

Rickard shook his head. "No, he is better off as an advisor."

"Very well, he shall be an advisor to Lord Clifford Swann."

Rickard and I both bowed, Rickard in pleasure, and me more mechanically. Me? Lead another landing?!

Rickard pulled me along outside and to a nearby clearing. He looked a bit awkward, but he soldiered through. "I know you weren't looking for such a role, but it is something I think that will be good for you and something you would be good at."

"Me? Leading a landing? Again?" I said incredulously.

Rickard shrugged. "There wasn't much chance you would be given such a command – it was just my initial bargaining position. As an advisor, you will have influence, but the responsibility falls on someone else. Besides, what I said is true. You have valuable experience, and your recommendations prove that."

I swallowed my bitter retort and reflected on the situation. An advisory position wouldbe good. It was a way to put what happened firmly behind me. To overcome it and be better.

And I couldn't ignore that Rickard also stuck out his neck for me. I smiled. "You are right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity."

Rickard nodded, pleased. "I am sure you will be excellent, and I hear that Lord Swann is a very talented Marcher lord."

"I look forward to it. I'll do my Father and the North proud."

Xxxx

The landing this time around went smoothly. We were not contested in the seas. We were not contested at the beaches. We were not contested at our fort.

Two days after meeting with Lord Baratheon, Lord Swann had led the first party onto the chosen beach on the southwesternmost part of the island. I was in the third wave, for the second was reserved for more men and defensive materials. By the time the third wave landed, the men already had a basic perimeter set around the camp and the men I arrived with helped to expand it further. The men, on my recommendation, brought spikes and planks, and all matter of ready-to-go materials to help set up a base as quickly as possible.

There would be no more last stands against desperate odds.

And indeed, there wasn't. Lord Swann ran a no non-sense campaign and took my recommendations with due consideration. By the time I joined with him in the fort, he already had his map laid out on the table and was receiving scout reports, alongside some of his sworn knights.

"No, Lord Swann. We, scouts, have only seen other scouts so far, with no indication of any larger groups being assembled."

"As I expected," mused Lord Swann. "Any large force would have to come from Tyrosh itself, and that is still forty miles away at best. Once we are entrenched here, nothing but such a force could dislodge us." He looked at me as I entered and said, "It seems your precautions were unnecessary, Master Ryden. Sensible but unnecessary."

"Something I am very thankful for, Lord Swann."

He chuckled as he dismissed his scout. "Very true; I would rather do my duty to my lord as ordered than fight for no reason."

"Although I hear you are an excellent knight, my lord."

Lord Swann smiled politely. "There are plenty of opportunities in the Marches when some foolish Dornish decides to raid into the Stormlands." His sworn knights chuckled.

"There are always those looking to take what is not theirs," I replied.

"Even in the North?"

"Even in the North," I confirmed. "Maybe less so than elsewhere, since we are much fewer in number, but my father fought off the Ironborn only a decade ago."

"Oh? Is that how your House came to be?"

"Yes, Lord Swann. My father won that fight and captured many prisoners for Lord Stark's judgement."

Lord Swann nodded, gracing me with a small smile. "That speaks well to his skill. Why is he not with us?"

"My father and family did manage to fight and win, but my father has never been formally trained and did not wish to intrude on those who have, like yourselves," I said, nodding to all the knights assembled. "Instead, he has contributed men and is helping Lord Stark back in the North."

"A wise man," replied Lord Swann. "How long have you been trained?"

"Since I was ten," I said. "Just as soon as my family was granted the status of a Masterly house."

"And what do you think of our current predicament? What is our next move?"

I swallowed my uncertainty and said, "I would continue to expand our camp here, until our entire force has landed, then strike toward the heart of the island, cutting off the city from the rest of the island."

"Not directly toward the city?" asked Ser Tygett, Lord Swann's most powerful vassal.

"No, my lord. The city may not be as secure as a castle – there are too many mouths to feed – but its defenses will likely still be formidable."

"And what of the rest of the island? Do you think the forces in the northern end will just sit and watch?" asked Lord Swann.

"While possible, my lord, since they are only mercenaries, I would not count on it. Instead, I would continue to build fortifications like we have here and secure our siege."

"An expensive and time-consuming endeavor," mused Lord Swann.

"Perhaps, but it is a safe one."

"Well, your training has done you credit. A much more cautious approach than many would take, it is a sound one. Though, I would suggest you learn more about historical battles, young Ryden. An argument is much stronger when supported by battles that have already occurred."

I bowed my head in thanks. "I will do so, my lord."

"As it happens, the plan is different than yours, and out of my hands. With food still an issue, Lord Baratheon has been toying with the idea of splitting our forces and landing another army to the northern end of the island."

I frowned. "I received a letter from my father stating that such issues may be resolved soon."

Lord Swann nodded. "Yes, the Master of Coin supposedly has the task in hand and food will be flowing. But there is a danger in relying on letters from afar, and on unprecedented tactics. Remember, if there is no historical basis for your argument, the argument as a whole is weakened. Lord Baratheon recognizes this, which is why the matter has yet to be settled. It would be nice to be able to strike as one army, but reality must be placed before fantasy."

I nodded, accepting the wisdom. "When will that be decided? I mean… we are already landed here, are we not? Should that not have been settled?"

Lord Swann chuckled. "Ah, but the benefit of creating a fort here at our landing gives us options. One such option is to draw out our enemies. To test them and see what they will do. Shall they seek to drive us off the island? Siege us? Surrender?"

Fuck. Were we bait?

He must have seen something on my face, for he continued, "Worry not, young Ryden. Our scouts are already scouring the island, and the Master of Whispers has put some of his resources in my hands. We shall have plenty enough warning to react accordingly. If a large army does set out from Tyrosh, we can have the rest of ours here before they arrive. Anything barring that we can weather. And with the seas mostly in our hands, we can be continually supplied."

I smiled, feeling a bit more relieved. "So, all we have to do is wait?"

"All we have to do is wait."

Xxxx

Arthur POV

Arrows struck true, and guards with surprised faces fell.

I raced forward alongside my men, ambushing the strung-out caravan and its guards. My men in the trees sowed chaos as we closed the distance.

A slice in the neck of a man trying to draw his sword was the first man I killed. It took but a second, and I was dancing past. I shouldered the next man to the ground and finished him with a stab.

Movement was key. Constant movement was key. Constant, fluid movement was key.

Outnumbered as we were, by fifty men, we needed to strike quickly. Kill them before they brought their numbers to bear.

Parry and hack at the exposed arm. Stab at the exposed face of the screaming man.

A guard captain of some sort was shouting, trying to rally his men. I quickly looked behind me and saw my men were still with me. We rushed to cut the head off the snake. A guard placed himself between me and the captain, who took a swing at my head. I ducked under the blow and hacked at his unarmored legs. One of my men finished him for me.

The Disputed Lands were a hot place, and it was hard not to lose some armor. Discipline kept my men in fine form, but these mercenaries were of a different breed - a now dying one.

My men rushed past me as I got back to my feet, but I found my face in the dirt once again as something heavy landed on my back. I roll onto my back, but my assailant managed to keep himself on me. The man tried to stab me with a dagger, but I caught his wrist and managed to twist it, causing the dagger to fly out of his grasp. His punch causes my vision to go white, but I pull him close and try to wrestle him into a better position.

"Let go, Arthur!"

I let go, pushing him back, as I see a hand pulling the man's helmet back and another dragging a knife across his throat. The blood was hot on my face, but Leo, the man who helped me, gave me a hand up, and I used my arm to dry off my face.

"Thanks," I said.

"O' course, Ser."

I followed the trail of destruction my men wrought, as we attacked the middle sections first and swept outward, in order to divide and conquer. The pace of the fight had slowed, as the enemy had finally, after what seemed like hours, rallied. In truth, it had been only a minute or two, but everything was either too slow or too fast in a fight. As I neared the battle line that had formed, I saw that the guard captain was still standing and continuing to rally the troops.

My blood boiled as I looked my men in the trees who continued to loose their arrows from safety. "Kill the captain!" I shouted, waving my sword in the man's direction. "Kill the bastard!"

I don't know if they heard me, or if they saw who I was pointing at, but the captain fell down with arrows sprouting from his face. The battle line started to crumble as the guard's morale crumbled, and I pushed to the front to end it.

A parry and a slice. Take a blow to my shield and push them out of their stance for the man beside me to finish him.

I eventually found myself standing in front of a young boy. He held his sword steady, but his eyes held nothing but fear. He was younger than Anari – probably only twelve or thirteen years old.

"Put it down, child," I said. "Put it down and live."

The boy didn't respond except to charge. I blocked his blow on my shield and pushed him off.

"Stop and live, boy."

The boy rushed me again, this time trying to feint to my right, but his eyes betrayed him. I pushed left to knock his sword away, but he still managed to slip by my shield, and I barely dodged a cut to my neck. I went to push him away, but he stuck to me like pine sap and kept swinging. Another cut came close to my face, and I felt my face harden.

The boy tried to stab me in the gut, so I turned and trapped his arm. Using his momentum, I tossed him to the ground. He tried to roll with the throw, but my sword pierced the back of his throat as he screamed. His eyes closed forever as if sealing in his horror for all time.

I pulled out my sword, blooding dripping down its tip, and I carefully avoided looking at the body.

I would not die for some fool – even if they were just a kid. I won't. That's my line in the sand.

My mouth felt dry as I saw the fighting stopping around me, as the final few guards were cut down.

That's a line in the sand.

Maybe not the best, but it's mine now.

"Start to round up the slaves and those still living!" I called out.

I directed them to a clearing at the side of the road, while the wounded bandaged themselves up.

"Start using rope and chain to bind them together," I said. "And start to burn the wagons."

Men scurried about, looting as they burned, while I watched over the gathered people. As my men finished up, they brought me the keys.

"I have here, the keys to your chains. But I want you to know that today is your last day in slavery! Before me and my men leave, I will leave the keys with you. You can do as you please – but I think you will like what you find at Ōzqelbar."

I left them at that and prepared to leave with my men. We had a long day ahead of us.

Xxxx

We raced through the streets, people fleeing before us in terror.

We rode hard and fast after leaving the caravan, and we went even faster once we were in sight of the town. Surprise was ever our ally, and she had yet to let us down.

Men split off as we raced by, going to their assigned roles. We had lost, either dead or seriously injured, thirty-seven of our three hundred men in the previous ambush, but we had enough for what we needed. Almost all of the warehouses that held food would be burned, and the ones that held weapons and armor would be dumped into the river if we succeeded in taking the town.

The key to the whole plan, however, was the gate. The walls of the town were eight feet tall, made of whitewashed wood, which was nothing to sneeze at. Nothing on a proper castle, but stronger than many of the pirate forts we had faced back on the islands.

As we turned the corner, I saw that the gates were already shut. The way was barred. We stopped out of range of any possible bowshot, but the men atop the walls were few in number, and clearly unprepared. They were shouting to each other as we milled about outside the gates. I looked around, hoping for inspiration, but I saw no glowing path forward.

Burning the docks would be a heavy blow to deal to the army that was heading south to fight Prince Duncan. It would stress their supply lines and force them to both move slower and to split their men up. If I could do it to multiple distribution towns, it would be a major threat – one that the Nine would have to turn and face. But it wouldn't get me any closer to creating a new state. It wouldn't create a national awakening. The slaves would remain slaves, and the town would pick itself up and continue to support the war effort. The system would continue.

It was unacceptable.

Building siege equipment was pointless as was any attempt at sapping. Fire tended to burn indiscriminately and would delay entry into the city.

My eyes locked onto a row of huts. Building ladders would take to long, but repurposing something into a ladder? That was doable.

"To the huts!" I shouted, pointing at the row of ramshackle huts that sprouted up along the wall. "Use them to climb onto the wall! Open the gate from inside!"

My men began to abandon their horses and ran over to the huts. "Archers! Keep those bastards on the walls busy!"

Where there was a large gathering of people, there was also a section set aside for the poor. Usually, they never had a spot specifically set aside for them – they just squeezed in where they could. Sometimes it was in the shadow of a castle wall, but a good lord always made sure to keep such areas clear in case of a siege.

These Essosi were not good lords. They weren't even good people.

Screams began to rise as I watched my men gain the wall and start to push inward.

But the screams were not just coming from inside the town, though they should have been. People lived outside the wall, mostly the poor or those who worked the river, but they should have already fled. Or at least had the sense to hide. I had made sure that the men burning the warehouses didn't have time to torment anyone. Only bad leaders issue orders that won't be followed, and there was only so much I could order – so I removed the opportunity. My men would never be the knights of legend – neither would I – but basic decency should never be out of reach.

Somehow, it always was.

I signaled to two of my men to follow me and said, "Let's go check up on the others." My men at the gate didn't need me for the next step.

It didn't take long to find the source of the screaming. One of my men, a hedge knight, had broken down a door on one of the huts and a woman was lying down inside, clutching her face. The hedge knight looked up at our intrusion.

"What do you think you are doing?" I growled.

"Piss off; I don't share."

One of my guards, Sig, made to draw his weapon, but I placated him with a hand on his shoulder. "Do you not recognize me?" I had the faceplate of my helmet open, so my face was visible. I recognized the man's face, if not his name, but he was only one of three hundred men. I, on the other hand, ought to be a bit more memorable.

He looked hesitant and confused, so I said, "I am Ser Arthur. Your leader. And I'll tell you what I think you are doing. You are disobeying me. You are not following the plan. You are threatening the success of our attack and risking the lives of your fellows." Slowly, almost mockingly, I ask, "Am I wrong?"

The man bristles, and if he were a dog, his hackles would have been raised. "This is war, Ser."

"Exactly, and your fellows are fighting. And you are not. Are you a coward? Hiding with the women?"

Anger flared in the man's eyes. "This is the prize in any war. Every war."

"Oh?" I said, mockingly. "You deserve a prize already? Worked hard today? And everyone else hasn't? Did you single-handedly fight the ambush this morning, and I forgot? Sig! I can't believe I've forgotten how important he is!"

Sig laughed darkly. "Me too, Ser. He's real good too – I can't even see any scars after living such a hard life."

I nodded. "A real testament to his skills."

"Now listen here, boys! I've seen plenty of war! I-"

"Was hiding with the women the whole time?" I interrupted. He opened his mouth, but I didn't let him say anything. "To say nothing of what I think of some cur that thinks rape is a prize, but you also threaten our goal! The goal that the Iron Throne has given us, specifically! While others are fighting, you are not! And you attack the people we are supposed to help! What shall I tell the Prince once we have failed?" I pitched my voice into a mocking grovel. "'Sorry, my Prince. We couldn't rally the people and create a state without slavery! How were we to know that the Essosi wouldn't want to deal with men who raped their wives and daughters?!'"

Sig snorted. "I think he may be an idiot, Ser."

"Boy…" growled the man.

"Sig, I think you may be right. He keeps digging his grave deeper. Boy, am I? It seems you are the child here. Unable to restrain your urges. Can't listen to those in charge. Throws temper tantrums. Well, child, I will give you this last chance. If you do not rejoin your fellows, on the frontline – where you can show penance – I will see you hung, and your name ruined."

The man fled. "Follow him, Sig. Make sure he does as I command. And find out his name."

The woman lay on the floor, still clutching her face, but wisely remaining quiet – hoping everyone would forget about her.

I shook my head and motioned for her to run.

Fucking hell.

Xxxx

The men had been efficient. The guards were overcome, and the townsfolk brought into the market square – slaves off to one side, freemen to the other.

Smoke hung heavy in the air as the warehouses burned, leaving just enough food to feed the town.

I stood atop an overturned cart, surveying the people. With the smoke and chaos, the people were not so different from each other. The slaves and freemen alike were covered in dirt and ash, clothes were torn, and tears left tracks down their faces. But with a sharp eye, I could see the quality of the clothes was different, and some slaves had tattoos on their faces. Unlike Dad's stories, it didn't seem like there were any racial undertones to the slavery here. Some of the slaves seemed to look a bit different than others, but that likely had more to the Dothraki enslaving and pillaging those in the East rather than for any racial reasons.

At least not how Dad described it. To tell the truth, I didn't quite understand the issue. I understood why slavery was bad but didn't everyone think foreigners were worse than them? Judging solely by the color of someone's skin was especially dumb, but I couldn't not say that I thought the Essosi were worse than people from home. Looking around at the slaves, I did think less of the people who had held the whips.

It had been a long time since Dad had told those stories, so maybe I was just missing something.

As the last of the people were brought into the square, and my men secured the surroundings, I motioned for one of my men to bang on his shield to gain everyone's attention.

I cleared my throat and mentally thanked Vamyx for his help in practicing Valyrian.

"People of Ōzqelbar! Today is a great day. A day that shall live on in infamy, for it is the start of something better! But not all great days are good days! Today, violence was brought to this town! Violence that it has not seen in many years! So, you sit there! Wondering, is this all? Or will there be more? Like vengeful gods, shall we visit upon you more? We greedy few?

I look at this city, and I see a promise! A promise of a better tomorrow! But that promise has been tainted by the past! We have brought violence, yes! But violence already had its place here! Violence had made its home here! In the homes of the rich! In the heart of its people! In the hands that held the whips and the shackles! Those who have enslaved their fellow man have brought us here today! The people who have brought violence into your homes have summoned us with their hubris and immoral behavior!

But it is not the fault of everyone here! In this system, even the freemen are shackled in their own ways! For them to speak out is to risk the collars being put on them and their children! In this, this insidious and perverse system, only a few are able to make change freely – those who are the cruelest! The most immoral!

Even without power, every man must make a choice! Before today, you all chose to keep your heads low! To accept this violence in your homes so that worse did not come! So that it would not strike at the bosom of your families! But I tell you, this has failed!

The worse was always here! As your hearts and souls have rotted from this sickness, you die more each day! You crumble and waste away! My being here is reality made whole! Violence given a face!

But we are not without mercy! Violence is but a choice! And that choice is given to you!

You can sit here, unrepentant in your sins, and claim nothing is wrong. That everything you have done is the way of the world and that nothing can be better. Ignore the blood and shadow on your hands and in your heart of hearts. That is a choice, and one you can make. But as with all choices, consequences follow. If you choose violence, you choose all violence. You cannot reject it – it is beyond you to reject it! If you choose to drink from that poisoned chalice, be warned! It shall slake your thirst, but it will not stop! The chalice must be drunk entirely! But it can never be empty! More and more shall flow! Until you are sick of it! Until you want to vomit! Until you are surrounded! But by then, it shall be too late! You are surrounded! You are drowning! You are dead."

I took a breath, surveying the crowd. A hush had fallen at my last words, and the crowd leaned forward.

"But there is a choice," I continued softly. "I offer you a choice. Choose to remove this violence from your homes. Destroy the collars, whips, and shackles that rot your hearts. Stop the violence inflicted upon your fellow man. End slavery and accept peace. Accept prosperity. Reject the errors that come with ancient wrongs and accept that you are better now. If you accept the end of slavery, you may find peace in your hearts. Love for yourself and for your neighbors!

It is better to die ten thousand deaths than to kneel in the bondage of your own making and to force others onto their knees.

It may be a hard choice, but it is a choice you must make. For some of you, this may be the first time you have ever made a choice of any significance. I tell you; it does not always get easier. But it does get better. Choice is power and freedom. Lift your face to the light of that truth! A truly free man will struggle with choices in his life, and I have shared in this struggle! But the rewards are glorious! Life is better!"

I paused once more. "Regardless of your choice, the slaves here are free. They will have to make their own choices today as well. They will find a brave new world before them, and how they face it is their choice. They may join us in our quest for a slave-free land! To taste in the fruits of their labor for the first time! To be a part of something greater. They can also choose to leave. To put this misery and violence behind them and to seek out greener pastures.

They may also be tempted to turn the wheel. To become the person who holds the whip! So that they are no longer on the receiving end! I warn you now; this will not end how you think it will. If you try to repeat the cycle, I shall break you just as I do to the wheel. Violence cares not for history – and neither will I. The whip holder will be struck down. Remember, the first slavers in your history began the same way. And now they have ended the way they have – in Doom. Do you wish the same fate for yourselves? For your children and the children of your children?

Already, the manses of the wealthy – the true benefactors of this system have been cleansed. Violence has been visited, and now waits with bated breath.

It waits, for your answer. It waits for the power of your choice. It waits for the freedom of your choice."

I raised one hand and opened it before the crowd, as if in supplication. "The choice is this: insult, injustice and exploitation. Or," I raised my other hand and opened it to the crowd, "justice, goodwill, and brotherhood? To the freemen of the town, how do you answer?"

As if waking from a dream, the crowd began to mumble. People were startled to be addressed so directly. To be involved in such a decision. They questioned their neighbors quietly to see if this was really happening. Their world was crumbling around their ears, but would they rise and rebuild it stronger? Some just had vacant stares – the events of the day too much for them to handle. Others were simply scared and huddled with their families as if they could just wait this out. Wait it out, without having to make a decision.

One man asked, "Can we just leave, like you said?"

I shook my head. "No, that is not a choice before you. That is only for the newly freed. You must answer. You must make a choice. You must do so now."

An old woman spit at the man who asked the question. "Don't be such a coward," she jeered. "What do you care? You've never owned a slave in your miserable life! Too poor like the rest of us! Why die for it?" She nods her head at me. "I want no part of it. I'll accept your offer – no more slaves."

Like a flood, she was the first crack in the dam. After everyone saw me accept her answer, they all rushed to do the same – even the man who asked to leave.

The smoke still hung heavy in the air, but there was something else there now too. Something bright.

Something more.

I turned to the other side of the square. "To the newly made freemen, how do you answer?"

Just like the other side of the square, the reactions varied. Some were vacant, others scared, and some thoughtful. For many, this was a momentous occasion – something to think hard on and to savor. But in the end, it wasn't a hard choice. They all agreed – some through tears of joy, others more mechanically, but they all agreed.

I smiled. "To all the people of Ōzqelbar. You are free. You are equal. You are brothers. Your history is now that – history. Not something to be forgotten, but it is in the past. It shall shape your lives, but do not cling to it. Live. Live and be free."

The newly made townsfolk cheered, with some of the old townsfolk getting swept up in the enthusiasm.

The smoke was definitely not the only thing in the air anymore.

There was something new.