"…I wandered into the Forest of Darkness."
He recited the lie smoothly, just as the old man had coached him.
Her lips parted for a moment, then softened. "Is that so…"
The pity in her tone was unmistakable. She nodded as though she understood something profound. "That must have been rough. Painful. I get it."
Her sympathy was clumsy, and Alain kept his expression blank. Watching her nod again and again, he wondered if she thought rehearsing concern made it more real.
"Anyway, what matters is that you made it out alive," she added, almost cheerfully. "So… your name?"
'Right.' He had forgotten that detail.
"Alain. No surname."
"Alain," she repeated, testing the sound. "Interesting. I'm Seria. Seria Bransburg."
He inclined his head. "Bransburg. Either way, thank you. I wouldn't be standing here without you."
Her smile widened, bright enough to hurt the eyes. "Think nothing of it. I want to be a knight, so helping you was natural."
Knights. He almost snorted but swallowed it back. He shifted a few steps away. Her enthusiasm was overwhelming, like a torch waved in his face in the middle of a storm.
"But I'm glad," Seria added suddenly.
He frowned. "Glad?"
"You said you were wandering because you lost your home, right?"
A pause. "Yes."
"Then why not stay here? The Kingdom's camp gives food, lodging, even pay. Work hard and eventually—"
"Seria!"
The shout sliced her words to pieces. She stiffened and turned fast, her body language shrinking. Alain's gaze followed hers.
A blonde woman was striding toward them, every step sharp, precise. The air shifted as though everyone around them recognized the danger. Workers fell back without being told, hands still full of tools, eyes down.
"Lady Karen…" Seria muttered, her cheer cracking.
Karen's eyes flicked from Seria to Alain. Blue eyes sharp enough to freeze marrow. Alain felt his chest tighten before he caught himself and looked away.
Karen's voice was measured and heavy. "What are you doing here, Seria?"
Seria stumbled over herself. "Y-yes? Oh, I, uh—"
Karen didn't give her the courtesy of waiting. Her gaze rested on Alain again. That look was harsher than the overseer's whip.
Alain forced himself to stay upright, but instinct pressed him to move back a step.
Karen studied them both, then let out a long, resigned breath. "The assembly starts now. To the plaza."
"Yes, understood!" Seria barked, then glanced back at Alain as if desperate to finish what she had started. Her words spilled out in a rush.
"Then… save as much as you can. I'll see you again!"
The moment Karen's eyes narrowed, Seria bolted toward the plaza as though chased.
Karen lingered for a second. She looked Alain over, silent, her gaze colder now. Different from what she used on Seria. There was no discipline here, only contempt. Maybe pity. The kind that said he wasn't worth anger, only dismissal.
Alain dropped his eyes and busied himself with his planer.
Karen scoffed under her breath, already leaving. The sight of him wasn't worth holding her attention. Whatever curiosity she had felt ended as quickly as it stirred.
The whistle blew sharp over the camp. Another day done, though the sky had already swallowed hours too many.
Around him, men muttered to one another as they laid down their tools. They were exhausted, half-starved, wrists blistered raw. Alain flexed his own aching hands before filing into line with them.
He recalled what he had heard from other workers. Everyone here carried debt. Invisible shackles. Chains stronger than iron. They labored not to live, but to buy fragments of freedom.
Those without debt, like him, had another trap. A target set by the overseers, an amount to be reached before release. Survival dressed up as a contract.
Alain almost laughed at the farce.
The line shuffled forward until it was his turn. The overseer from earlier was there, still rubbing his bruised throat from when the Commander nearly strangled him. His glare tried to hide his humiliation. It didn't.
With a flick of his hand, he dropped coins into Alain's palm. Three of them. Copper, dull, and light.
Alain blinked. His eyes went wide. That was the total?
He looked up to ask, but the overseer spat before he could. "You got your pay. Move along!" The shove against his chest nearly knocked him back into the next man.
Pressed aside, Alain stumbled into place. He watched as the same three copper coins rang into the next man's hand. The next. And the next. No more, no less.
Faces tightened, jaws clenched. But no one spoke. Their silence was heavier than their chains.
Alain shoved his coins into his pocket and walked with the rest toward the lodgings. His chest tightened with every step. The anger mounted. Step after step until it felt like he would crack open if he didn't let it out.
Halfway to the barracks, he broke off. His feet carried him toward the edge of the camp, a place dark and deserted, where no one would care enough to follow.
There, in the shadows, he let go.
"Argh!"
His roar erupted into the emptiness. He slammed his fists against wood beams, hurled stones, threw whatever his hands found. The sound echoed off the walls of the camp like a wounded beast.
"Three coins. For all that?" His voice choked with rage.
Blood smeared across raw knuckles as he struck again and again. Breath huffing like a bellows, he spat curses into the dirt.
"Three coins won't buy a crust of rotten bread! This is what they call pay? This is a sick joke!"
His chest heaved until he staggered, the energy draining away. His mind replayed Seria's voice like a cruel echo.
Stay in the camp. Work hard. Save money. Later, you'll…
The corner of his mouth twitched. He started laughing. Hollow, sharp.
"Was that it then? Mockery with a smile."
His knees buckled, his back met cold dirt. He collapsed there with a ragged sigh, staring at the coins pressed into his bleeding palm.
Tiny pieces of metal. Worthless. Empty. Yet right now, they were all he had to show for endurance, sweat, and humiliation.
Alain closed his fist around them until the edges bit into his flesh.
Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, Seria's bright grin lingered like a torch in the dark. Karen's contempt followed, colder still.
But above them both, his rage wrapped itself tight around him.
He was trapped. Weak for now. But not forever.
The camp wanted to bury him with routine and coppers. Seria wanted him to smile at the cage. Karen wanted him to rot in it.
They would all see.
Alain's quiet breath was the only sound. His body still trembled, but underneath lay a steady spark. The kind you could mistake for resignation if you weren't looking closely.
But it wasn't surrender.
It was survival.
And survival was only the first step.