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

The room had gone quiet enough for Daven Rusk to hear the faint crackle of the lamp burning beside him.

He sat with his wrists bound behind the chair, his expensive coat ruined with dust and blood. Three men stood around him, all armed, though none had found a reason to draw their weapons yet. They had already spent most of the evening questioning him, returning to the same subject from different directions, hoping repetition would loosen his tongue.

It hadn’t.

Across the room, beneath the dull light of an oil lamp, stood a man Daven had never seen before.

The stranger wore a dark travelling coat without a crest or insignia. He looked neither old nor particularly imposing at first glance, yet there was something about his stillness that made the room feel smaller. His eyes had remained on Daven throughout the questioning, patient and almost disinterested, as though the answers mattered less than the moment Daven finally understood that there was no way out.

On the table beside him lay a sword.

It had not been drawn once.

It did not need to be.

"Daven Rusk," the man said at last, his voice quiet enough that everyone in the room instinctively listened. "You have been given several opportunities to make this easier for yourself."

Daven swallowed.

"I’ve told you everything I know."

"No."

The reply came without anger.

That was what unsettled Daven most.

The man stepped closer, stopping only a few feet away.

"You told us what you believed would keep you alive."

Daven’s mouth tightened.

The stranger glanced toward the sealed chest sitting against the far wall.

"I don’t care about the merchant ledger anymore. Whatever was in it has already served its purpose. What I want is the location you were given."

Daven said nothing.

The man’s gaze moved to the other men.

"Ask him again."

One of them grabbed Daven by the shoulder.

"Where were you told to take the retrieval?"

Daven flinched. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

A faint smile touched the stranger’s lips.

"You really should stop lying badly."

He walked past Daven and rested one hand against the back of the chair.

"You were a senior dispatch clerk. Orders moved through your hands. Routes were altered because of you. A courier was sent somewhere he was never supposed to go, and shortly afterward several people began searching for him."

His voice remained conversational.

"You know exactly what I’m asking."

Daven’s breathing became heavier.

The man leaned slightly closer.

"When I ask a question, answer it while I am asking."

The room fell silent.

Then footsteps sounded outside.

Everyone froze.

It wasn’t the quick stride of a guard or the heavy movement of soldiers. It was slower, measured, unmistakably deliberate.

Every man in the room turned toward the door.

The stranger straightened.

The men around Daven immediately stepped aside.

The door opened.

A figure entered without urgency.

The people in the room bowed almost at once.

"Greetings, my lord."

The Newcomer did not acknowledge the greeting immediately. He closed the door behind himself and surveyed the room with a calm glance before finally speaking.

"You may stand."

The men rose.

Daven remained seated.

For several seconds, the newcomer simply looked at him.

Then his eyes settled on Daven’s face.

"So," he said, "you are Daven Rusk."

"Yes, my lord."

The newcomer approached.

His presence was difficult to describe. There was no obvious display of authority, no raised voice, no threat hanging in the air. Yet everyone moved around him with the caution of people who knew precisely what would happen if they gave him a reason to be displeased.

He stopped before Daven.

"I have been told that you possess information concerning a restricted retrieval."

Daven forced himself to meet his eyes.

"I was only given instructions, my lord."

"I know."

"Then you know I don’t have the full details." Daven said.

"I don’t require the full details."

The man’s voice softened.

"I require the part you chose not to tell them."

Daven’s fingers tightened against the ropes.

The stranger’s gaze remained on him for another moment before drifting toward the corner of the room.

"Bring him in."

A door beside the shelves opened.

A small child entered.

He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight.

His clothes were plain, his hair untidy, and one of the men held him gently by the shoulder as he guided him into the room.

Daven’s face changed instantly.

All the defiance drained from it.

"No."

The stranger barely looked at him.

"Interesting."

Daven stared at the child.

"You said you wouldn’t....."

"I said many things."

The stranger’s tone remained almost courteous.

"But you mistook courtesy for mercy."

Daven looked back at him.

For the first time that night, genuine fear appeared in his eyes.

"I’ll tell you."

The stranger said nothing.

Daven’s voice shook.

"I’ll tell you everything I was given."

"That would be wise." Man said.

Daven lowered his gaze.

"The location was marked J7."

The stranger’s expression did not change.

"Where?"

Daven hesitated.

"Inside the Korrandis military estate."

Silence filled the room.

One of the men nearby exchanged a glance with another.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Korrandis."

"Yes, my lord."

"You’re certain?"

"That is what was written on the retrieval order. J7. Korrandis military estate. I don’t know what J7 actually means, and I was never given access to the full file. I only handled the movement instructions."

The stranger considered this.

"What was the retrieval?"

Daven shook his head.

"I don’t know."

"Daven." man said.

"I swear it." His voice cracked. "I was only told that something had to be recovered under the J7 designation. I never saw the object. I never saw the body."

At that word, the stranger’s gaze sharpened.

"The body?"

Daven realized his mistake too late.

"I....."

"You just said body."

Daven’s face went pale.

"I was told it was a body. That’s all I know."

The stranger turned away from him.

For the first time, something resembling genuine interest appeared in his expression.

A body.

J7.

Korrandis military estate.

There was more to this than he’d expected.

He looked toward the man standing beside the child.

"Take him out."

The child was led from the room.

Daven sagged in the chair, breathing hard.

The stranger walked toward the table and picked up the sword resting upon it.

The blade remained sheathed.

"I suppose you have no idea what was recovered with the body either."

Daven looked at him cautiously.

"No, my lord."

"A sword."

Daven said nothing.

"And an artifact."

The color returned to his face for an entirely different reason.

"I was never told the details." Daven said.

The stranger slid his thumb along the guard of the sheathed weapon.

For several seconds, his expression remained unreadable.

Then he looked toward the door.

"Korrandis has kept the body, the sword, and the artifact all this time."

No one answered.

His gaze hardened.

"I’ll recover all three."

Daven’s breathing stopped for a moment.

The stranger turned back toward him.

"And whoever decided to stand between me and what belongs to House Novaryn..."

He left the sentence unfinished.

He didn’t need to finish it.

The men in the room understood.

So did Daven.

The stranger’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"They will die."

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