“It’s okay. You can come out now.” The hero beckoned to a group of women cowering in the corner of a cell fit for two. “Nobody is going to hurt you. You’re free.”

Still hesitant, the women begin looking between each other and the mysterious armored figure. Finally, with deep breathes they each step towards the open door.

“I have a camp set up next to the river behind a grove of trees. It’s only a short distance from here, and one of my partners has some food waiting.”

“I found these.” A grumpy looking man explains with a handful of towels and blankets as he steps through a nearby doorway.

Noticing him, the former slaves collective jump at the sight of him but the hero calmly eases them. “Don’t worry, despite his scary face, Bonze is a nice little grandpa. It was his idea to find you some warmer clothes.”

“Unfortunately, I only found blankets and furs though.” The old man frowns with drooped head. “Once we meet back up with the army, they should have something better.”

The slaves, realizing their mistake bow their head and happily receive the blankets from Bonze.

“Thank you.” They each echo as a warm fur or blanket is taken and wrapped around their frail figures.

The hero, with face full of separate emotions, eventually prompts them towards the camp where the rescue had been concocted.

“Should we burn it?” Bonze asks as the group eventually makes it past the bodies and into the forest surrounding the makeshift fort.

“We can’t.” The hero sighs with a glance at the girls faces. “We have to get the buyers too. They won’t show if the fort vanishes into ashes.”

“You don’t really think they are…” Bonze begins to asks with careful looks at the girls curious faces.

“They were demons.” An older woman standing near the back states plainly. “I saw them myself. I was sick at the time, so they returned me. But I swear I saw a tail under one of their robes.”

With head full of disgust, the hero leads the group back towards river and adjacent camp. Humans selling each other to demons. Could there be any worse of a betrayal?

Eventually reaching the camp, the girls quickly gulp down the stew offered by Filia. A few, seeing a church worker for the first time in years break into tears and begin praying in front of her awkwardly.

After visiting the frontier for a few months Filia begun to get used to this behavior but it’s still stifling to the atmosphere.

As the night dragged on with the girls and Bonze huddling around the fire, the hero spoke about something never mentioned.

“See this?” The hero asks pointing at the mark etching the upper half of the slender fire-lit wrist. “I was told this mark would make me property. That no matter where I went, even outside of my cell, I would still be seen as something not someone. But that was wrong from the start. This mark gave me strength, this mark is where I keep my pride, and lingering hope.”

With all eyes on the hero, none present could respond.

“Wherever you wear your brand, hold it with pride. It’s now a badge of freedom, and you’ve earned it.”

“But we didn’t…” A girl mutters with hand pressed firmly to her lower stomach.

“You didn’t free yourself?” The hero asks with a shocked expression. “But I don’t remember carrying any of you out. You each stepped with your own strength to freedom. It wasn’t given to you, so cherish the deeds you have accomplished, no matter the scale.”

Again none of the listeners had a response. They felt like they had been saved, but that savior was denying any involvement.

Bonze and Filia, who were aware of parts of the hero’s past, understood the sentiment in the statement. The hero is only moving now because of the motivation provided by that moment.

“Tomorrow a messenger from the army will arrive.” The hero explains dropping another log into the collapsing pile of coals. “I will send a message back to them regarding what we learned and request an escort to bring you back to the capital. If you have somewhere to go from there, we can arrange it or if you need something to do, I own a handful of business ventures many of which are hiring, you can choose from the list.”

A few of the former slaves gasped or burst into tears at the news while the rest sat in amazement.

“How long ago did you free yourself?” One of the amazed girls asks with stars in her eyes.

The hero, counting leather-gloved fingers carefully, eventually nods “Nearly four years. I won’t say I didn’t have an advantage, but it’s not impossible to step forward. We can talk about it more in the morning. For now, get some sleep.”

▐◊▌▐◊▌

When the sun rose, as anticipated the army courier arrived with the frontlines report. Quickly penning up a letter describing what they found the hero sends it off along with a request for back-up and an escort.

There’s no telling if back-up would arrive in time to help with rounding up the buyers, but if the hero neglected to request them it would be insulting to the royal name hanging on the army’s flags. You start to learn these things after a while.

It’s no wonder the noble’s used to hate the hero, from their point of view the hero’s party was constantly stealing glory from the frontier nobles armies. On the other hand if the hero had instead requested aid and it simply failed to arrive in time, at least the nobles could maintain some pride.

Breakfast prepared by Filia was eggs found nearby and a variety of plants grilled into a handful of omelets. Although meager in quantity the former slaves were extremely grateful. Likely because Filia can seemingly make any simple meal into something you might find in a capital eatery.

Finishing off the plate with careful scrutiny the hero once again gazes towards the now smiling survivors.

There was a certain jealousy of their smiling faces. The hero hadn’t been able to smile for some time after becoming free. Perhaps that’s because these girls didn’t have to firsthand witness what went into their emancipation. They didn’t have to behead the man standing between them and it.

Then again, neither did the hero. That part had been personal.