Enslaved by the Crown: The Weakest Slave Has the Strongest Ability

[One Year Later]

.....

April, 1777

...

One year had passed since Eldrin first arrived at House Korrandis.

And, somehow, almost nothing had changed.

The chains were still there.

He still spent most of his days inside the library,

But Eldrin himself was different.

He had grown taller over the past year.

His shoulders were broader, his movements more deliberate.

He had spent the year learning whenever he could.

History.

Noble families.

The kingdoms of Avaloria.

Magic.

How to recognize the difference between a public record and something that had been deliberately altered.

Rowan had taught him some of those things.

The rest, Eldrin had taught himself.

His Silver Tongue had improved as well.

He understood it better than he had a year ago.

He knew that simply speaking a command did not guarantee anything.

He knew that stronger commands demanded more from him, and he had learned one lesson the painful way:

Never use it carelessly.

But there was still much about it that he didn’t understand.

Especially the strange backlash.

And the way it had behaved when he used it on Zarian.

Eldrin still thought about that night sometimes.

He also thought about his father.

Every day.

He had never forgotten, he still intended to return to Novaryn one day.

He wanted to recover his body.

Give him a proper burial.

And stand before whatever remained of his family’s land and say goodbye properly.

But before any of that...

He needed freedom.

Eldrin reached into the small pouch hidden beneath his clothes.

Twenty silver coins.

He had earned them over the past year, most of it through the recommendation Rowan had managed to secure for him and the small jobs he had taken whenever possible.

Twenty.

He counted them often.

Not because he enjoyed it.

Because the number never seemed to change fast enough.

He needed eighty more.

Eighty silver coins.

That was the amount he still needed to buy himself back.

Eldrin closed his fingers around the pouch.

Eighty.

A year had already passed.

Which meant he had only one year left.

Kaiser had given him two.

Two years to prove himself.

And if Eldrin failed...

He had no reason to believe Kaiser would simply forget about him.

The man had already found him once.

He would find him again.

Eldrin exhaled slowly.

"I need to make money."

Unfortunately, wanting money didn’t make it appear.

He returned the pouch beneath his clothes and stepped outside.

The morning air was cool.

For most people, the day was only beginning.

For Eldrin, it was time for something else.

Practice.

Rowan had insisted that he train every day.

Eldrin reached the small training yard behind the library.

Eldrin picked up the wooden sword.

He tightened his grip.

Then settled into the stance.

His breathing slowed.

For the next hour, he wasn’t a slave.

He was simply a boy trying to become strong enough that the next time someone came for him...

he wouldn’t have to run.

The wooden sword struck the training dummy with a dull crack.

Eldrin pulled it back and adjusted his footing.

Again.

He stepped forward.

A horizontal swing.

A short thrust.

A retreat.

His breathing remained steady.

He had just raised the sword for another strike when a familiar voice came from behind him.

"You’re training again, my boy?"

Eldrin’s shoulders dropped.

He slowly lowered the sword.

Young Master Ender stood at the entrance of the small yard, looking at him with the same amused expression he always wore.

Eldrin sighed.

Ender’s eyebrows rose.

"Are you sighing at me?"

"No, young master." Eldrin replied.

"You definitely sighed."

"I was tired."

"From seeing me?" Ender asked.

Eldrin looked at him.

"...I didn’t say that."

Ender grinned.

That had been the beginning of it.

A month earlier, Ender had happened to come into the slave quarters for some matter of his own. He had found Eldrin training alone.

He had asked for a spar.

Eldrin had agreed.

And somehow, Ender had kept coming back.

Every morning.

Sometimes for half an hour.

Sometimes longer.

They sparred, trained, argued over technique, and then Ender left.

That was it.

He had never asked Eldrin where he came from.

Never asked why a slave could move the way Eldrin did.

He simply trained with him.

Eldrin appreciated that more than he would ever admit, there was only one rule Eldrin never allowed himself to forget.

Don’t hurt him.

Ender was a Korrandis.

One mistake could be enough to turn a friendly spar into a death sentence.

So Eldrin never attacked seriously.

He blocked.

Dodged.

Redirected.

And whenever Ender managed to land a clean hit, Eldrin pretended it had been because he had made a mistake.

Ender, unfortunately, wasn’t stupid.

He knew.

"You’re holding back again."

Eldrin said nothing.

"I know you are."

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m really not." Eldrin replied.

Ender pointed the wooden sword at him.

"One day, I’m going to beat you properly."

Eldrin almost smiled.

"You’ve said that before."

"And I’ll keep saying it until it happens."

Ender lowered the sword.

"Besides, I’m leaving next week."

Eldrin looked at him.

"Academy?"

"Yes." Ender replied.

There was a strange excitement in Ender’s voice.

"Third year." Ender said.

He swung the sword once through the air.

Eldrin gave a small nod.

"It’ll be good for you."

Ender looked offended.

"That’s all?"

"What else should I say?" Eldrin asked.

"I don’t know. Something like, Young Master, I’ll miss you terribly."

Eldrin stared at him.

Ender burst out laughing.

"Forget it."

A few nearby slaves had begun watching them.

At first, Eldrin hadn’t paid attention.

That changed when Ender noticed them.

His expression shifted almost immediately, the playful boy disappeared.

He turned toward them.

"What are you staring at?"

The slaves immediately lowered their heads.

"Nothing, young master."

"Then why are you standing there?" Ender asked.

"We..."

"Go."

They hesitated.

Ender’s voice sharpened.

"Did I tell you to stand there?"

They hurried away.

Eldrin watched silently.

There it was.

The other side of Ender.

The side that reminded Eldrin exactly who he was.

A young master of House Korrandis.

No matter how casually he trained with a slave, the distance between them had never disappeared.

Ender turned back.

His expression had already returned to normal.

"Where were we?"

Before Eldrin could answer, footsteps approached from behind them.

The slaves nearby suddenly became quieter.

Eldrin glanced toward the entrance.

A familiar figure had appeared there.

Ennessa.

He froze.

It was the first time Eldrin had seen her anywhere near the slave quarters.

Ender noticed her too.

And something changed.

His posture straightened.

The lazy grin disappeared.

He immediately raised his wooden sword.

"Again."

Eldrin blinked.

"What?"

"Come on."

Ender moved.

Fast.

Much faster than before.

Eldrin barely got his sword up in time.

Crack!

The wooden blades collided.

Eldrin stared at him.

What happened to him?

Ender attacked again.

And this time, Eldrin understood.

He was trying to show off.

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