As Barkatus, Arctur, and I approached the caravan, an uneasy silence settled over the area. The armed monsters halted their chatter and shifted their focus toward us. I felt the weight of their stares, sharp and assessing. A few armed orcs moved forward, eyeing us with suspicion as they disengaged from their ranks.

One stepped ahead, a burly figure with a face carved from stone. He bore the insignia of Elder Morrg: a black band wrapped around his left bicep. "What do you want?" he demanded, voice gravelly as he squared his shoulders. Analyze revealed his name to be Hosk, and his level as 34.

I wish to see your prisoners, I replied, keeping my tone steady.

The orc's brow furrowed. "These goods belong to Elder Morrg. No one approaches them without his permission."

A goblin beside him piped up, squinting at me as if recognition flickered in his eyes. "Wait! That's the mechanical one! The Prophet's guest!"

Hosk's expression shifted slightly, confusion mingling with caution. "Oh? Is that true?"

I straightened up, trying to look imposing. Yes. My name is Vardiel.

Hosk frowned but relented, crossing his arms in a gesture that indicated begrudging respect. "Fine. But be quick about it; we have monsters lurking around."

I nodded and moved toward the caravan with my companions trailing behind me. As we approached, I caught sight of several of the other monsters casting disdainful glances at Barkatus, each glare sharp as a dagger's edge. He simply grinned back at them, unfazed.

My focus shifted to the cages lined up along the carts. Inside, human captives huddled together like lost sheep in a storm, fear mingling with hope in their wide eyes as they spotted me approaching. Their simple clothing marked them as farmers or ranchers, victims of raids from villages that stood no chance against such brutality.

"Is that you, No Eyes?" A familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to find Gomka leaning against one of the wagons. I had last seen the one-eyed orc raider back in Weath over a year ago, when I had persuaded him to leave the village peacefully.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as if trying to clear away cobwebs from memories long gone. "I barely recognized you without all that tin covering you up!"

My name is Vardiel now, I replied evenly.

"A good name!" he exclaimed with a broad smile that revealed jagged teeth stained from years of combat and revelry alike. "Glad you ditched that awful one the humans gave you."

I nodded appreciatively before glancing back at the prisoners' faces contorted in fear and despair. The children among them were particularly haunting, as their wide eyes darted nervously between me and Gomka.

"What brings you here?" I asked him.

Gomka leaned closer conspiratorially, lowering his voice even though there was no need for secrecy among monsters like us. "Things got too hot in the northern kingdoms for me and my gang," he explained dismissively, gesturing vaguely behind him where shadows flitted among rock formations and sand dunes alike. "So we joined up with Morrg's crew."

His expression soured momentarily as he looked over at the cages again; the humans inside were pressed against the bars as if hoping for salvation or mercy from anyone who might be willing to provide it.

"It's a shameful sight," Gomka muttered darkly. "No one deserves this kind of treatment, not even humans." His voice lowered further into something almost reflective; it held remnants of pain from memories past.

"I know what it's like," he continued bitterly. "Been a slave myself, you know. For cruel human masters."

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I studied him closely; Gomka's memories must have weighed heavily on him even now, but I sensed anger brewing beneath his facade of indifference.

"If it were up to me," he said finally with clenched fists, "I'd just kill all these worthless vermin." His eye flickered towards Hosk and then back to me; frustration poured out in waves around us like boiling water ready to spill over its confines.

"But I've got orders," he added reluctantly after a moment's hesitation. His posture shifted from aggressive to resigned as the harsh reality weighed down on him once more. "Morrg wants 'em alive."

I frowned at his words but chose silence rather than provoke further conversation on such matters; Gomka's struggles mirrored many tales I'd heard before, fables echoing across battlefields stained by bloodshed and betrayal alike; but speaking would change nothing about this situation we found ourselves trapped within today.

I approached the cages, the metal tendrils under me crunching on the black sand. Children huddled together in one cage, their thin arms wrapped around each other for comfort. Most shrank back at my approach, pressing themselves against the far bars as if trying to melt through them.

But one boy, no more than six or seven, stepped forward, his face smudged with dirt but his eyes clear and curious. He wrapped his small fingers around the bars and peered up at me.

"Are you a monster too?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

I tilted my head, studying him through the false vision slits of my mask. The question hung between us, deceptively simple yet impossibly complex. What was I? Not human, certainly. But was I a monster? The Primordial fragments within me? The mechanical parts I'd built? The thoughts I harbored?

I don't know what I am, I answered honestly.

The boy nodded as if this made perfect sense, accepting my uncertainty with the simple wisdom children sometimes possess.

He pressed his face closer to the bars, lowering his voice. "Are you here to help us?"

The earnest question struck me like a physical blow. Something seized in my chest, a sensation that shouldn't have been possible for my mechanical body. Anger and grief warred within me, threatening to overwhelm me. Every fiber of my being, organic or constructed, screamed that this was wrong. This suffering, this casual cruelty, this treating of thinking beings as property; it was an injustice far beyond reasoning or excusing.

I wanted to tell myself these feelings weren't mine. That they were just remnants from Vardin trying to control me. Echoes of a human king's morality imprinted on my consciousness.

But then I realized something: I didn't care.

Even if these morals and ideals of right and wrong weren't originally mine, it didn't make the feelings wrong. I thought back to my friends: Annes with her fierce determination, Genta with her dreams of equality, Copelan with his strategic mind. I remembered the farmers at Weath who had welcomed me despite my strangeness, and little Mallie with her gap-toothed smile before Themas took her life.

I thought of the monsters struggling in Monster Town, of the elderly couple I'd met during that carriage ride so long ago. I imagined any of them taken hostage, put in chains, sold like products.

The thought made me feel foul. It made me furious.

It was not Vardin feeling these emotions; it was me, Vardiel. In the almost two years of my existence, I had accumulated memories and experiences that Vardin never had. I had made friends, enemies, and memories of my own. And all those experiences told me that slavery, no matter the excuse, (tradition, necessity, or vengeance) was wrong.

I looked down at the young boy, whose eyes were full of hope. Something in my chest cavity shifted, expanded.

Yes, I told him, I will help you.

His face brightened, a small smile forming on cracked lips. I reached through the bars and gently touched his shoulder before turning away.

I moved with purpose toward Hosk, my metal frame looming over him. The orc's hand instinctively went to his weapon.

I will be speaking to Morrg and the rest of the Elder Council, I stated, my mental voice leaving no room for argument. Do not harm the prisoners under any circumstances.

Hosk's face twisted, clearly wanting to argue, but something in my posture, perhaps the rigid set of my frame or the intensity emanating from me, made him reconsider. He nodded reluctantly.

Good, I said, then turned toward the enclave, my tendrils coiling and uncoiling behind me in agitation.

We walked in silence until the caravan disappeared from view. The volcanic peak of the enclave loomed ahead, black smoke curling from its summit.

"What are you up to?" Arctur finally asked, his scaled face unreadable.

I'm going to free the slaves of the enclave, I replied, my voice carrying a gravity I hadn't intended.

Barkatus let out a harsh laugh. "Sounds like fun! Been a while since I've had a proper bloodbath."

There will be no bloodshed, I corrected him. I intend to do this without spilling a single drop.

The mercenary's face fell dramatically. He groaned, slumping his shoulders. "What's the point then? You're taking all the enjoyment out of revolution."

"You can't be serious," Arctur hissed, quickening his pace to walk alongside me. "The Council will never agree to this. Slavery is integral to their economy, their way of life."

Then their way of life must change, I replied simply.

"And if they refuse?" Arctur pressed.

I didn't answer immediately, my mind working through contingencies and calculations. The tendrils of my war frame flexed, dragon heads glinting in the harsh sunlight.

Then I will have to be very persuasive.

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