The morning sun bathed the central square of Sedona City in a golden glow, casting long shadows from the wooden gallows at its heart. Lucas stood atop a raised platform, his commanding presence drawing every eye in the crowd. His dark gaze swept over the thousands gathered below, their murmurs and whispers filling the air like a restless tide. The faint scent of woodsmoke and fresh bread lingered, mingling with the nervous energy of the onlookers. A faint smile tugged at Lucas's lips as he listened to their chatter. Today, he would make an example—kill the chicken to scare the monkeys, as the saying went. Among the crowd, he knew, were those still harboring crooked thoughts, and this public trial would serve as a warning to them all.
"Greetings, everyone. I am Lucas, the Lord of Sedona City," He began, his voice light and approachable, cutting through the morning air with clarity. "Some of you know me, others may not, but that's alright—today, you'll all come to know me."
A ripple of good-natured laughter spread through the crowd, easing the tension for a moment. The people leaned forward, their faces a mix of curiosity and admiration, eager to hear their leader speak.
"The prosperity of Sedona City is thanks to your hard work," Lucas continued, his tone shifting to a deeper, more solemn register. The words carried weight, resonating with the crowd's pride in their city's growth.
"No, it's all thanks to you, City Lord! You've given us these good days!" An elderly man shouted from the crowd, waving his weathered hands with fervor, his voice rough but heartfelt.
"Exactly! It's your kindness that's filled our bellies!" Another voice called out, sparking a chorus of agreement.
"Long live the City Lord! Long live! Long live!" The crowd erupted, arms raised high, their cheers echoing off the stone walls of the castle. Children joined in, their high-pitched voices mingling with the adults', their eyes shining with adoration for the man who had transformed their lives.
Lucas's lips curved into a warm smile, and he raised his hands, gently pressing them downward. The crowd fell silent almost instantly, their eyes fixed on his now-serious expression, hanging on his every word.
"My friends, the future will only get brighter," Lucas declared, his voice ringing out with conviction. "No one will go hungry. No one will sleep on the streets. No one will be left unable to read a letter from home."
The crowd roared again, their faces flushed with passion. "Long live the City Lord! Long live!" Their shouts were fervent, almost frenzied. Unlike the empty promises of nobles, Lucas's words were simple yet profound, striking at the heart of what the common folk yearned for—a life of dignity and security.
"But," Lucas's voice cut through the cheers, his tone darkening as he swept his sleeve dramatically and pointed at the kneeling figures on the gallows, including Hank. "There are those who cannot stand to see us thrive." His words carried a heavy gravitas, his presence commanding absolute attention. "These slavers—these monsters—are the ones trying to rob us of our good days."
"Slavers?" Bryan, standing in the crowd with a half-eaten bun in his mouth, gaped at the gallows, his eyes locked on Hank. The man he'd shared a jovial evening with, watching shadow puppets just yesterday, now knelt as a condemned criminal.
"No way… Mr. Hank, a slaver?" A merchant nearby muttered, disbelief etching his features.
"He seemed so kind. How could he be one of them?" Another whispered, shaking their head in shock.
Lucas ignored the murmurs, his voice rising with controlled fury. "Last night, these slavers crept into our homes, targeting our most vulnerable—our beautiful young girls, our innocent children."
The crowd gasped, a wave of horror rippling through them. Parents clutched their children closer, their faces paling at the thought.
"If they had succeeded, your children would have been branded with slave marks, reduced to mere property, traded like goods. They'd never see you again, never know the joys of the life we've built here." Lucas's voice grew sharper, each word a hammer striking the crowd's hearts. "Do you know what a slave is? A slave is just like you—a free citizen, a neighbor, a friend—until a slaver burns a red-hot iron into their flesh, marking them as property."
He paced the platform, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd, noting the mix of sorrow, fear, and rage on their faces. "Your friends, your family, your loved ones—if the slavers take them, the next time you see them, they might be slaves. Slaves who can't acknowledge you, who dare not look you in the eye, who feel shame for what they've become. Yet not long ago, they were free, just like you."
His voice dropped, cold and unrelenting. "All because of the greed of these slavers, who destroy lives for their own gain. And who's to say you won't be next?"
A collective shudder ran through the crowd. Many stepped back, their newfound prosperity suddenly feeling fragile. The fear of losing it all—of being dragged into the horrors of slavery—hung heavy in the air.
"Are you afraid?" Lucas's voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a weight that pressed down on the square. "Sedona City is home to many former slaves, and to free citizens who were once branded."
At his words, over a thousand heads bowed, tears glinting in their eyes. These were the people Lucas spoke of—former slaves, bought and sold, their lives forever scarred by the brands on their arms.
"Raise your heads!" Lucas's voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and commanding. His gaze swept over them, fierce yet compassionate. "Among you are those who were once slaves. But with hard work, you can change your fate. Your destiny is in your hands."
Slowly, hesitantly, the former slaves lifted their heads, their eyes meeting Lucas's. Gratitude and hope shone in their gazes, a testament to the new life he had given them. He was their savior, the one who had pulled them from the abyss.
"If you work hard, I will grant you freedom," Lucas declared, his voice ringing with inspiration. "You will become free citizens, equal to any other in this city."
"I'll work hard, City Lord! I'll earn my freedom!" A burly pig-beastkin roared from the crowd, his voice thick with emotion.
"We'll prove ourselves!" Another shouted, the former slaves' voices rising in a fervent chorus.
"We won't let you down, City Lord!" Their cries were raw, filled with determination and a newfound spark of hope—a chance to shed the chains of their past.
Lucas listened to their pledges, his heart swelling with pride. With a sweep of his sleeve, he shouted, "Free citizens, I will give you a new beginning. The slave brands on your arms? I will help you erase them, so you can truly be free."
A hush fell over the crowd, the silence so profound it seemed the world held its breath. Then, a tidal wave of cheers erupted, the sound deafening as it echoed across the square.
"City Lord, is it true? Can you really remove our slave brands?" A woman called out, her voice trembling with longing, tears streaming down her face.
"Absolutely," Lucas replied, nodding firmly. "If you're a free citizen, take your identification to the tattoo shop next to the Guard Division. They'll cover your slave brand with a new design."
"Yes! Thank you… thank you!" Free citizens wept openly, their sobs mingling with cries of joy. For them, this was more than a promise—it was a rebirth, a chance to shed the shame that had haunted them.
Lucas's expression hardened, his dark eyes glinting with resolve as he surveyed the crowd. "Now, we turn to the trial of these vile slavers," He said, his voice cold and unyielding. "I sentence them to death—by hanging. Execute them immediately."
"Yes, my lord!" The patrol officers responded, moving swiftly to place nooses around the slavers' necks.
"Hang them! Hang them!" The crowd roared, their anger and fear transformed into a unified demand for justice. Lucas's words had ignited their emotions, channeling their outrage into a shared resolve.
Hank stood motionless as the rough hemp rope was looped around his neck, his bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the sea of furious faces below. His mind drifted, carried back to a distant past he had long buried.
He remembered a small mountain village, its name faded from memory. The faces of his parents were a blur, but he could still recall the gnawing hunger of his fourteenth year, when his family, desperate and starving, sold him to a slaver. He had escaped, fleeing into the night, but the cost of that freedom had shaped him into the man he was now—a man he barely recognized.
One memory stood out, sharp and vivid: the day he left the village, a girl named Rose, his neighbor, sobbing and begging him to return someday. Her tear-streaked face haunted him, her voice echoing across the years. He had never gone back, never seen her smile again. And now, here he was, a slaver himself—the very thing Rose had despised.
If he could have one more chance, he thought, he would return to that village, just to see her smile one last time.
Was it a trick of his mind? In the crowd, he thought he glimpsed her—Rose at twelve years old, smiling at him through the chaos, her face untouched by time…
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