With a careful motion, Alpheo opened his palm, letting the others glimpse the prize.
Jarza was the first to speak.
"How did you manage to get your hands on this?" he asked, his eyes bright with barely contained excitement.
Alpheo only shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's just say I have my ways," he replied, his voice dripping with mischief. But the others were staring at him expectantly, and after a moment, he gave in.
Usually, wizards did not give their secrets away; luckily for them, however, Alpheo did not believe in magic..
"I might have… accidentally broken one of those urns, or whatever you call the thing they keep the wine in. Took a few slaps for it. But in return, I got this." He flicked the object between his fingers, making it dance in the dim light.
All eyes followed the trick, tracking every shift of his hand.
"You're one of a kind," Egil muttered, scratching his dirty head in disbelief. "While the rest of us are just trying to stay alive, you're out here planning our escape. If we make it out of this, I'll have a statue made of you."
The praise spread quickly. Clio and Jarza joined in, their voices overlapping with genuine admiration. Alpheo listened in silence, feeling a quiet pride take root in his chest.
"With this, that makes four," Clio murmured, glancing at Alpheo as though he were the anchor holding them together during a storm.
"But who's going to hold on to it?" Egil asked, cutting through the moment. "We each already have one, and Alpheo's out of the question, given how risky his position is. Any volunteers?"
"I'll keep it," Clio offered without hesitation.
Before anyone could agree, Jarza spoke up. "No. I will. I'm the strongest, and I only carry the loads during the march. I never have to speak, so I can keep it in my mouth with the others. No one will notice."
The group turned to Alpheo, seeking his opinion. Most decisions fell to him, whether he claimed the role of leader or not; after all, he was definitely the brain of the group.
After a short pause, he gave a nod. "It's settled." He broke another piece of bread and chewed it slowly as if to feast on it.
Egil grinned. "We finally have a real chance. Under the cover of night, we slip away. We leave this hell behind for good."
Jarza and Clio's faces lit with hope. The thought of freedom was a spark in the darkness, a dream too precious to let go.
But Alpheo's expression did not change. The faint smile he had worn vanished, replaced by a hardened look. His eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened. Something unspoken weighed heavy on his mind.
Jarza noticed. He leaned closer, his tone careful. "Is there a problem?"
Alpheo met his gaze with a steady, almost cold look. "I'm not so sure about the plan," he said, each word slow as if it hurt to mutter it.
Egil's voice trembled , disbelief as clear as the sun during summer. "But you were the one who came up with this plan…"
Alpheo's jaw tightened. "That was three months ago. Circumstances have changed, we were not marching into battle. The plan we had before is no longer possible."
A flicker of anger lit in Egil's eyes. Years of toil as a slave , years of swallowing despair and clinging to the hope of freedom , boiled up inside him.
And now, when the door to that hope had finally cracked open, it was Alpheo ,the very man who had first given him the key, slamming it shut.
"Did you get cold feet?" Egil's voice carried a bitter edge. "We'll die if we don't act. I'd rather die free than rot as someone's property."
Jarza's deep voice cut through the air before the argument could ignite further. "Enough, Egil. We're all on the same ship. We sink or sail together." His tone held a quiet warning at him making more ruckus.
Egil's anger faltered, though his shoulders still tensed.
They all knew one thing, when Alpheo said something couldn't be done, he wasn't speaking out of fear.
If he told them the sky would fall tomorrow, they'd start praying for their souls before they thought to question him.
"Why?" Clio finally asked to answer the doubt of the group, turning toward Alpheo.
Alpheo leaned back against the cold wall, exhaling heavily. "The plan was to cut our bindings at night with those shards of pottery we found. Slip away in the dark while the garrison slept. It would've worked, or at least back home, defenses are lax at night. But here? In the middle of a campaign? There are eyes everywhere. Too many guards. Too much risk. If they catch us, they'll take more than our freedom." He paused, voice hardening. "That plan is dead, as much as we will be if we proceed with it."
Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Jarza opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
So long for their happy moment.
Egil broke first. "So we just give up? Keep breaking our backs until we drop dead?" His dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, but he didn't bother to push it away.
"Why don't you stop blaming him, Eg—" Clio began, only for Alpheo to cut him off.
"Egil." Alpheo's voice was low, but it carried the weight of a blade pressing to the throat. "Don't ever say that again. I have not toiled in danger and risked myself to death, only to let them bury me as a slave in the dirt. I won't die by the hands of these mongrels..."
Jarza shifted uncomfortably. Clio looked away. Even Egil, who moments ago had been brimming with defiance, found himself silent under Alpheo's steady, unblinking gaze.
"Do you have a plan?" Jarza finally asked.
Alpheo allowed a small, almost amused smile as if the words before those did not exist. "Of course I do." He scanned the corners of their cell, making sure no prying ears were close. Then he drew a slow breath. "If a quiet escape is no longer an option… we use the other plan."
Clio leaned forward. "And what's that?"
"It's simple." Alpheo's voice was calm, almost casual. "We break out. Loudly. We seize the camp, take everything worth taking, kill every soldier in our way, and then we vanish into the lands of the free with every man willing to follow us..."
He said it as though it were no more troublesome than stealing a loaf of bread, as if cutting through the army of the strongest empire in the world were merely an errand to run before supper.