novelraw Chapter 86 : The Morning of Strangers
Chapter 86 : The Morning of Strangers
The sun hadn’t even cleared the horizon when the sound of wheels and hooves rolled down the dirt path. I rubbed my eyes, still half-asleep, sitting at the edge of the porch.
Then I saw them.
A carriage creaked into the yard, drawn by two tired horses. Behind it walked villagers — thirteen of them, their faces lined with wear and hope. Eight were men, some young, some bent with age, and five were older women with hands rough from years of work.
But it wasn’t the villagers who froze me. It was the carriage.
Inside were five people. Not villagers. Not workers.
Slaves.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me — the chains on their wrists and ankles said enough.
The first two were beastkin. A man with wolf ears, his body lean but his eyes hollow, and a woman with feline features, clutching her thin arms like they were the only shield she had left.
Beside them sat a female elf. My chest tightened at the sight of her — her face disfigured, only her right arm remaining. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, her head bowed.
Next was a lizardman, his scales dulled and cracked, staring straight ahead like a statue.
And last… a harpy. Or what was left of one. Her feathers were gone, her wings nothing but bare, broken bones. She trembled whenever the merchant scream command at her.
I gripped the porch rail tighter. My heart thudded in my chest.
The villagers came closer, their voices hushed at first. Then louder, their awe spilling out as they saw the land behind us.
“By the gods…”
“It’s green. All of it… it’s alive.”
“I heard rumors, but to see it with my own eyes…”
I glanced back at our fields. They glowed with life, the crops thick and golden, the grass lush, the soil rich. A miracle, everyone would call it.
And yet, as I looked back at the carriage — at the broken eyes of those slaves — the miracle felt heavy.
Their gazes flicked to the fields, to the tree bending in the distance, then to me sitting barefoot on the porch. For a moment, I felt like they were waiting for something.
What do you want from me? I thought bitterly. I’m just a child.
But deep inside, the HUD in my vision flickered faintly — not words, just a reminder of what I already knew.
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This miracle wasn’t chance. It wasn’t the empire. It wasn’t the villagers.
It was me.
I couldn’t stop staring.
The villagers talked among themselves, marveling at the fields, whispering about miracles. But I didn’t hear them. My eyes stayed fixed on the carriage.
The chains rattled with every movement.
The beastkin man shifted his wrists and winced.
The feline woman pulled her knees close, curling small as though she wanted to vanish.
The elf’s head never rose, her hair covering the scars across her face.
The lizardman’s eyes were dull, the harpy’s broken wings trembled with each breath.
Slaves.
I knew the word even before I knew this world. Slavery existed in history, in the books I read back on Earth. I thought I understood it. But that was just lines on paper. Distant. Unfelt.
Here… it was in front of me.
Living people. Shackled.
I felt my stomach twist. A memory flickered — my old life. Me, cornered in an alley by boys who laughed as they kicked me down. Teachers who looked away. A society that pointed at me as the problem when I tried to fight back.
No chains on my arms. No shackles on my legs. But still… I knew that look in their eyes.
The look of people broken until they believed they were less than human.
I gripped the railing tighter. My chest felt heavy, my breaths shallow.
Is this what this world thinks is normal?
The villagers didn’t spare them more than a glance. To them, the slaves were tools, like shovels or plows. Nothing more.
“Papa…” I whispered, though he wasn’t here yet.
A question clawed at me, one I didn’t know how to ask out loud. Do we feed them too? Or do we let them rot?
And underneath that, another, sharper thought: If I grow strong enough… could I break those chains?
The HUD flickered faintly in my vision. No words. Just an empty space where requirements usually appeared. Like even it didn’t know what answer to give.
I swallowed hard, hugging my knees.
For the first time since coming here, I realized my family’s miracle didn’t shine the same for everyone.
Some people saw green fields.
Others only saw iron chains.
I stayed by the fence, knees pulled close, while the grown-ups busied themselves.
The villagers had already unloaded tools, spreading out like they owned the land. Their laughter filled the morning air, but not the good kind — sharp, cutting, full of mockery.
“Best bring the slaves first,” one man barked, jerking his chin toward the carriage. “They can do the worst work. Ain’t no point letting proper folk break their backs in this soil.”
Another chuckled, “Hah! Proper folk, you say? This land’s cursed. If anyone’s gonna get eaten first by beasts, better it’s those half-breeds.”
The group laughed. Even the older women, who moments ago praised the miracle of green fields, sneered when the elf woman stumbled stepping down, her single arm shaking as she tried to balance.
“Careful, careful—don’t let the fine lady trip,” a villager jeered, earning more chuckles.
The beastkin man clenched his jaw but kept his eyes down. The harpy folded her broken wings tight, trembling.
I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
So it’s not just chains. It’s how they’re seen.
The villagers looked at them the way I looked at weeds choking a crop — something to be cut, not cared for.
“…worth less than dirt,” I heard one mutter.
Something hot rushed through my chest. My small fists balled tight, fingernails biting my palms.
They weren’t monsters. They weren’t dirt. They were people. Just like mama. Just like papa. Just like me.
Yet nobody spoke for them. Not even the slaves themselves.
But the words blurred. My vision shook with anger.
I whispered so softly nobody heard me.
“…then I’ll speak for them one day.”
And as I said it, one of the slaves — the elf woman with her face hidden — turned her head. Just slightly. Just enough that one pale green eye met mine.
Not dull. Not empty.
But alive.