I huddle in my corner of the slave quarters, a torn piece of fabric clutched to my chest in a futile attempt to cover myself. It’s late, and most of the other slaves are asleep, exhausted from another day of serving the King’s court. But I can’t rest - my ears perk up as I catch snippets of hushed conversation from the guards outside. They think I’m just another stupid Orc, too broken to understand their words. But I listen, always listening, gleaning what information I can from their careless whispers.
Tonight, their voices are urgent, speaking of some great change on the horizon. They mention a figure known only as ‘The Liberator,’ who seeks to overthrow the current regime and free all slaves. My heart races at the thought - could it be true? Is there really someone out there who sees us as more than just meat? The guards laugh and joke about it, clearly unconcerned, but their words have planted a seed in my mind. For the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of hope.
I know it’s dangerous to even think such thoughts. If caught, I’ll be punished severely. But as I lay here in the darkness, my mind wanders to a future where I’m more than just Courtmeat, the King’s favorite toy. Where my green skin isn’t seen as a mark of inferiority, but as a symbol of strength and resilience. The whispers of conspiracy may be nothing more than rumors, but they’ve given me something precious - a dream to hold onto in these desperate times.
