“How many slaves are making a fuss?”

“Queen Shaiven, it’s not just a fuss. All the slaves have taken a stand.”

Shaiven’s rage grew so intense that it reverted back into a strange sense of calmness.

“By all, do you mean all 1,200 of them?”

Shaiven’s adjutant replied, “Yes. All the soldiers guarding the slaves were attacked. But the majority of them aren't even armed, so we’re trying to stop them from escaping the camp, but…”

“But?”

“We’re short on soldiers.”

“You can’t stop unarmed slaves even with knives and spears?”

At Shaiven’s question, the adjutant hesitantly said, “There are far more slaves than soldiers guarding the camp. And the strange thing about these slaves is…they’re belligerent.”

“Belligerent?”

“Yes. I don’t know what happened. Even though our soldiers are armed, the slaves are ganging up on them, throwing the camp into disarray. And even though our soldiers kill many of the slaves amid the chaos, the slaves never get scared. They instead attack the soldiers and take their weapons.”

Shaiven shook her head.

The adjutant had misjudged the slaves. That was courage, not belligerence.

‘Lakrak… Did you think this far when you opened the gates?’

Lakrak hadn’t acted recklessly, nor relied on luck. And Shaiven realized that...