By the time the full sun had cleared the horizon, Zhao Hai had calmed down. He turned around — and found everyone staring at him.
A hundred slaves stood in neat rows behind his household. They had clearly been awake for some time, washed and tidied, wearing their rough uniforms. The men all had brands on their foreheads: a rearing dragon, the Buda family crest.
Grimm gave a deep bow. "Young Master — the glory of House Buda will surely illuminate the whole world. Please — speak to your people."
The slaves dropped to their knees as one, heads to the ground.
Zhao Hai had never spoken in front of a crowd before. He stood frozen for a moment, hands uncertain.
Then he found the words.
"Get up — all of you. We've come to a place that has nothing. No farmland. No mines. Only this old castle, and each other. You've all been marked with the Buda crest. Whatever you were before, you are Buda now. The family's fate and yours are the same.
"We have nothing. But we have hands. Everything in this world was built by hands. And that means we won't starve. We will make something here.
"Most of you are slaves. You probably think none of this matters to you — that no matter how well things go, you're still slaves. But today I'm telling you: if you work hard, if you contribute to House Buda, I will free you. Your children will not be born into chains. They may join our soldiers one day. They may become knights. Nobles, even. I ask for your best — and I will give you mine. On my family's honor: I will keep this promise."
A ripple went through the assembled slaves — subtle, involuntary. Slaves were trained never to move during a lord's address, but they couldn't help it. The shock was too great.
Freedom for slaves didn't happen on the Ark Continent. It simply didn't. A slave was a slave forever — down through the generations. No noble had ever offered otherwise.
Except this one had sworn on his family's honor.
Noble oaths on family honor were not made lightly. They were not broken. Everyone in this courtyard knew that.
And so they believed him.
Grimm stood quietly to one side. He hadn't expected this. He had concerns — the legal complexities alone were significant — but the words were already said. He would address it privately later.
Then he watched something happen to the people in front of him.
They had always reminded him of stones — present, functional, utterly inert. Now, for the first time, he saw something in them that he recognized as human: a spark, a forward lean, a change in the quality of their silence.
One hundred motivated people, he thought slowly. What can one hundred motivated people do?
He didn't know. But for the first time, he genuinely wanted to find out.
Zhao Hai read the room and moved on briskly. "Get to work. Get the supplies organized. Tomorrow there will be new tasks." They responded — and the difference in how they moved was immediate. Faster. More purposeful.
He climbed down from the wall and walked to Grimm. "Let's go inside. I have something to show you."
They settled in the dining room. Zhao Hai set the half-eaten white radish on the table. "Grandfather Grimm — what is this?"
Grimm had gone still.
Not because of the radish — because of the way Zhao Hai had produced it. From nowhere. From thin air.
On this continent, spatial magic existed, but it was extraordinarily difficult to learn. Spatial storage items did exist, but they required magical energy to open — and Zhao Hai had drunk the Water of Nothingness. He should have been completely unable to use any such item, let alone possess one.
Zhao Hai smiled. "Grandfather Grimm?"
Grimm shook himself and started to rise. "Young Master — how did you—"
"It's something I came into unexpectedly," Zhao Hai said, waving it aside. "Keep it between us. Now — look at what I'm showing you. What is this thing?"