27.

Proof

“He said he wanted to meet you, Commander.”

A hush fell across the camp, all eyes directed towards Dominic. The commander gave him a once-over, then met his gaze.

“It would be polite of you to at least show your face,” she said.

A few murmurs went through those watching. Dominic calmly reached up and took his hood off. The face that was revealed seemed to confuse them more. Unscarred, with striking eyes. Handsome enough to be mistaken for a noble, but without any of the usual features of one—no horns sprouting from his head, no fancy clothing, his hair cut short. They didn't know what to make of him. A quiet ripple of unrest went through the mana in the air.

“I apologize if I came off as rude,” he said, “but I was brought here so hastily by your subordinate that I had no time to prepare myself.”

Sung clicked his tongue behind him. The commander ignored it.

“It’s alright,” she replied. “What have you come here for? Did you need to speak with me privately?”

Dominic thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.

“No, in fact…”

He glanced around at the dozens of pairs of eyes watching.

“It might be more convenient if everyone is here to hear it.”

He could see that many of them, in short sleeves or tanks because of the warmth of the summer night, had slave tattoos winding across their backs and up their arms—black and shimmering. There were sharp lines of ink peeking out from the commander’s collar too, swirling up her neck like blades. They were unmistakably slaves, but Dominic needed to confirm something.

“Before you say anything,” she said, “I’d like to know your name.”

He didn’t personally mind giving it, but the timing was bad. If anyone was able to make the connection back to ‘Dominic’ the healer that had once worked in Helwin, things could get complicated.

“I can't say that yet,” he replied.

“Then tell me who you are.”

“An envoy.”

“You are in the wrong place, then. All envoys should be escorted to meet the lord.”

“I am not here to meet him.”

One of the soldiers, a middle-aged man, scoffed nearby.

“Commander, let’s just toss him to the lord and call it a night,” he suggested, scratching his stubble. “I’m fucking sleepy.”

A couple mumbles of agreement went through the crowd. Dominic glanced over at the man who had just spoken. The ink of his tattoo stretched all the way up to his wrists, coiled like snakes. His skin was littered with scars, remnants of old gashes and punctures jaggedly catching the low firelight, but the deep black of that tattoo stayed constant over everything—the magic still perfectly intact despite all the wearer had gone through.

“I only have one question for all of you,” Dominic said, turning back to the commander. “I promise it will not take much more of your time.”

“Speak,” she replied.

“Do you wish to be free?”

Silence fell over everyone immediately. Her expression darkened, eyes sharpening to a glare. He felt Sung’s knife back at the side of his throat.

“Don’t joke, bitch,” Sung snarled, pressing the blade closer.

“I am genuinely asking,” Dominic replied calmly.

He reached up and pushed the knife away. It cut into his fingers. Sung begrudgingly lowered it, staring at the blood dripping from Dominic’s hand.

“I’m sure none of you are here because it was your first choice,” he said. “But what you think of this place at this moment is what I need to know.”

He could free them, but he had no idea if they even wanted to be freed. Unlike Maylia Arena, the slaves here were at least treated like living people. It was possible that a few could have developed an attachment to Haema in the time they’d been there, despite how they were still undeniably owned as property. Dominic had seen plenty of knights with warped senses of loyalty to their masters. Silas, too, had been like that.

“Why are you asking such a question?” the commander asked, narrowing her eyes. He was too suspicious. Without context, nothing he was saying made sense.

Dominic hesitated for a moment, trying to conceive of any way to explain it. He couldn’t really tell them what was going on, but leaving them in the dark would only lead to them cautiously circling around the same questions.

“…Let’s say there’s a merchant,” he started carefully, “and he’s peddling a cure-all potion.”

“A scammer, I bet,” Sung snorted from behind him. Dominic ignored it.

“The potion works,” he said. “It cures any ailment, any injury, anything, and it contains so much mana that those seals on your back…”

He pointed towards the commander, who was still scrutinizing him with wary eyes.

“They break and flake away.”

He put his hand down. The silence that stretched over the camp was deafening.

“It frees you,” he said. “What would you do for that potion? Would you even want it at all?”

“Why wouldn’t we want it?” the commander asked. “Is there a catch to drinking it?”

“No,” Dominic answered. “But I can’t predict which of you might prefer the stability of being chained down to one place over floating unmoored.”

He pursed his lips, feeling the unrest that was rippling through the mana in the camp, deciding to just speak honestly for once.

“With freedom comes risk,” he admitted. “I can undo your tethers, but I can’t give you somewhere to go.”

He raised his eyes and met the commander’s gaze again.

“So tell me—do you still want to be free?”

The commander’s brow furrowed, and she gritted her teeth.

“If this is a joke…”

“It’s not a joke.”

Dominic held up his open palm, his fingers still bleeding from clutching Sung’s blade.

“If you answer me, I might prove it to you.”

He concentrated some mana into his fingers, and the cuts began to seal. He could feel the soldiers staring.

“Do you want to be free?” he pressed, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Or has your prison become your home.”

The commander’s hands clenched into fists, her jaw tense.

“…Tell me your name,” she requested again, her voice quivering slightly.

“I can’t say.”

“I am Commander Hia of the Haema slave corps,” she said, stepping forward. “And I will answer your question.”

She clasped her hands together strongly and bowed her head to him.

“I would do anything for that potion you are peddling.”

“Do any of your subordinates disagree?” Dominic asked.

She straightened up, a determined look in her eyes.

“None.”

He could feel through the mana that she spoke the truth. The others watching were looking at him hungrily now, their suspicion having turned to intrigue. He had been worried for nothing. They’d served Count Haema as his soldiers, but they had never forgotten the lives they had once dreamed of.

“Prove it.”

Sung’s voice rang out from behind him.

“I don’t believe you.”

Dominic turned to him. They were about the same age, even nearly the same height. His life must have been difficult to have ended up becoming a slave soldier so young. But then again, Dominic had started fighting much younger.

“You’re Sung?” he asked.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“You must be a transformation mage.”

Sung’s expression turned even more wary of him.

“How did you know that?”

“I know somebody like you.”

Not many people ever managed to sneak up on him, so he always made note of those who managed to. Aster when he was transformed as a crow was one of them. If Dominic wasn’t specifically focusing on trying to find him, his presence practically disappeared.

“How old are you, Sung?” he asked.

“I’m nineteen.”

“I see.”

Dominic calmly lifted his hand.

“You should be more polite to your seniors.”

Before anyone could respond, he placed his hand on Sung’s chest. A gold glow instantly enveloped the teen. Healing magic swept over him, flooding through his body and flushing away the circuits in the seal on his back.

It was over in a split second. Dominic withdrew his hand as Sung, as well as everybody else, stared at him in stunned silence.

“There it is,” he said. “Proof.”

Without another second of hesitation, Sung suddenly slammed down onto one knee, head bowed deeply. Almost simultaneously, the other soldiers—even Commander Hia—followed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“Whatever you need me to do,” Sung said, voice low and determined, “I’ll do it.”

A deep rumble went through the mana around the camp. Unanimous agreement. A shared desire from the bottom of their souls.

“Stand,” Dominic ordered. “If we are caught like this, it will be over.”

All of the soldiers shot upright at his word.

“Give us an order,” Commander Hia said.

“I have nothing for you now,” he replied. “You are going to have to wait a little while.”

“How long?”

“I can’t say yet. It won’t be long.”

“What should we be waiting for?”

“For an order to come from your lord.”

Dominic waved his hand, smothering the fire lit beside them with his mana. It burned out, the darkness of the night finally blanketing them all in a cold blue.

“Soon, there will be a commotion at Maylia Arena,” he said. “Your lord will very likely summon you all to help settle it.”

Commander Hia’s jaw tensed. They probably all knew about what went on down in that stadium.

“Do you want us to refuse his order?” she asked.

Dominic shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “You probably wouldn’t even be able to.”

“Wouldn’t we be free?”

“I’m not going to free you right now.”

A wave of unrest went through the air, despite the camp remaining silent.

“Explain that,” Hia said, wary of him now.

“I also have things I desire,” Dominic answered. “If the count notices that you have been detached from him before the right time comes, it will all go up in smoke.”

He lifted his hand and pointed calmly towards the commander.

“That is why you all need to obey the count’s command when you receive it,” he said. “You will all come to the arena…”

He slowly moved his finger to point towards himself.

“…and I will be there.”

His hand fell back to his side.

“I’ll free you all then.”

A thick silence fell over the camp again. Every soldier was making calculations of their own. The risk and the reward. The circumstances at Maylia Arena. The probability that Dominic was lying to them. Their eyes glimmered with both excitement and apprehension. They might never get a chance like this again.

“How can we trust you?” Sung asked, raising his voice again.

Despite having been freed by Dominic, it seemed like his personality hadn't changed.

“How can we trust that you really will do anything for us?” he continued. “You’re basically saying that you won’t pay us until the job on our side is already done.”

“Isn't that the basics of a request?” Dominic replied. “Besides, I’m hardly asking anything of you.”

“And that makes it more suspicious,” Sung pressed. “All you’re saying is that we need to ‘show up.’ Why? How can that be all?”

Dominic glanced over at him, then chuckled to himself. Sung raised an eyebrow at his strange reaction.

“Why?” he repeated. “It’s because I don’t need you to do anything. The commotion at Maylia Arena—”

Dominic smiled calmly.

“—I’m going to take care of it all myself. The only reason I’m here is to ensure that all of you know as well. As the personal army of Count Haema—”

He gestured around at the soldiers.

“—your only order is that you must come there to meet me. I will free you. And after that, I don’t care what you do.”

Sung looked unsettled when his eyes met Dominic’s again.

“This is the potion I’m peddling to you.”

A tense silence fell on the camp. It was broken by Hia’s voice.

“Sir,” she called, “we have received your order. However…I’d still like to ask you one thing.”

“Say it.”

“How, exactly, are you going to heal us?” she asked. “We have seen your power, and I have to acknowledge that you are capable of setting us free from our seals, but…”

She pursed her lips as if trying to find a good way to put it.

“…there are hundreds of us. You can’t possibly be thinking of going one by one in the middle of a battlefield. And the mana capacity required…there are few mages on the continent that could—”

Before she could even finish her thought, a golden halo appeared on the ground. It spread beneath their feet, the mana shimmering warmly in the darkness, and shot outwards. It grew larger so quickly that it seemed like it might swallow the entire estate, extending past their little circle of soldiers, under the tents, reaching for the walls. They realized belatedly what it was. An area of effect healing spell. For a split second, their fatigue began to fade away, the soreness from their wounds disappearing.

Then, in the next an instant, it all snapped back into nothingness. If any servants besides the soldiers were still awake, Dominic couldn’t let them see. Every eye in the camp turned back to him as they struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

“I don’t need to go one by one,” he said bluntly. “Do you have any other questions?”

Commander Hia kneeled down without giving him a chance to even blink. Thuds resounded from across the camp as all the other soldiers followed her lead.

“None, sir.”

Dominic nodded.

“Good.”

He calmly put his hood back on.

“I trust that this will not reach the ears of your lord?”

“We will ensure that everything remains a secret.”

The mana around them turned steely. He certainly didn’t envy the kind of reception a snitch would get here.

“I’ll leave that to you,” he said, stepping back.

“Are you leaving now, sir?” Hia asked.

“Yes.”

He turned, a path parting through the crowd as they made way for him.

“I will see you when the time comes.”

“Yes, sir.”

He left, weaving his way between the tents, and didn’t look back. Just outside the encampment, beside the path he had come in on, a bush rustled.

The same black rabbit as before hopped out. Dominic looked down at it, and it stared back at him.

“I’ve completed your request to deal with the soldiers of Haema,” he said.

The tiny animal’s black eyes glinted coldly in the dim light of the moon.

“Is that enough proof for you, Your Majesty?”

The rabbit was silent for a moment. Slowly, it began to rise onto its hind feet.

“Two days.”

Its voice was strangely, almost unsettlingly, deep.

“Be ready by then.”

It dissolved into smoke without another word, the black mana that it had been formed from falling to the gravel path and then disappearing altogether.

Dominic looked away and continued out of the Haema estate.