After an hour, Isis finally got up and began to leave. In the hour, there were only two more fights, both of them ending with the same climax of sparing the fallen warrior, resulting in the booming cheer of the crowd. When she had first seen the arena, she had expected it to be a place that only allowed battles to the death. Lessers pitted against other lessers, made to kill one another for the freeman and a way to show them that their lives meant nothing.

Yet reality was different. The fighters weren’t that; instead, they were beloved by the people, many sections of the arena crying out the name of the warriors as they entered the arena, cheering them on, praying for their victory. She didn’t doubt that those men were likely the most famous people within the city.

’I guess it makes sense. Danmor isn’t run by slavery but by money. They need profit, and creating fanbases around the fighters ensures a steady income.’ Telling herself, she also realised that it cost money to train those men. Every battle being one to the death would eventually mean running out of both men and a steady income.

Shaking her head, she stepped out and looked up at the setting sun, smiling and carrying on. ’I wonder if Seth is finished.’ Thinking to herself, Isis walked with a thin smile, excited to have her crossbow, wondering when she could hold it. ’Probably not. It didn’t se-’

Her thoughts were cut off by the feeling of someone large bumping into her and grabbing her arm. Before she could say anything, she felt the cold, sharp point of a blade on her abdomen. "Stay silent and pretend we are lovers on a walk." The man said in the common tongue of Veston before smiling, hiding the blade under his sleeve.

Isis looked up at him and saw the man’s sharp face. Looking down at her, he smiled and carried on. Isis stiffly followed, trying to look as normal as possible to the people around, wondering if the man would be crazy enough to kill her in such a public place. Not wishing to test it, she let him drag her into a nearby alleyway and stop before a heavy iron door. Slamming his fist on it, a slit opened as a man looked at the two, nodding and unlocking a series of locks, opening it for them.

Bringing her inside, Isis warily stared at the group of men and women inside, reaching for her bag. The moment she did, someone lifted a crossbow towards her and began to pull back the bolt. Isis stopped and lifted her hands, looking between them, "Are you going to enslave me?"

Silence followed her question as the group stared, letting her tension and fear build. Isis gulped as the first one, the one who dragged her, laughed and waved his hand to have the rest stop. "You and your friend caused quite the fuss in Cras, you know?"

"I don’t know what you mean." Isis quickly said, her lie betrayed by her darting eyes.

"Am I wrong? A white-haired woman with a sparkling blue dress and blue eyes. By her side is an old butler who is related to Luar. That isn’t you." The man dragged a seat over and sat down, playing with the knife, "Relax, we ain’t gonna hurt you."

"You held a knife to me and kidnapped me." Isis narrowed her eyes and looked at the group of people, "You honestly believe I feel safe."

"You know there’s a bounty on your head. As for you Lunarian friend, he has one as well, but the reward is so low that it likely was posted as a formality more than anything." The man said, ignoring Isis’s complaints. Isis tensed up and stared at him, trying to see if he was lying, and quickly realised he wasn’t.

"Why? I thought they backed off." Her words got a few people to chuckle.

"They didn’t give up, but outsourced it to someone else to minimise their losses. You arrived quickly, but a messenger bird travels faster. A lot of masters with ties in Cras have gotten word of you and your Lunarian friend. As for us." Smiling, he threw the knife up and caught it, putting it away after, "We also found out."

"And you are?"

"Ex slaves, people who don’t like slavery, people from places who don’t have slavery or those who just have grievances with powerful masters. Chained Brothers. The Lesser Collective. Take your pick, we have enough names." The man casually said.

"So what, you’re a resistance of some sort." Looking back at the door, she laughed, "Great job."

"Don’t talk about what you don’t know." The man’s voice was terribly cold, and Isis tensed up, almost forgetting that she had been brought against her will, "You’re wrong. We are not a resistance, but revolutionaries."

"Okay." Isis said with a flat tone, "And I am here because I planted a tree."

"Yeah." The man smiled, "You made a symbol that our contacts in Cras can use to stoke the flames." Leaning over his chair, he stared deep into Isis’s eyes, "Listen, we want help. The tree you planted was enough to tell us you don’t like what these places do. An extra member means we can open another route to ferry people out of the city. Have an extra fighter to aid our cause."

Isis raised her hand to stop him and rubbed her forehead, "I’m not interested." Seeing the people’s faces drop, she sighed and rubbed her temples again, "I’m not a fighter. I am only here as it is one of my many stops. I will be leaving and moving on, not staying to fight some battle that I can make no difference in."

"Then why the tree?" His voice was impatient as he replied, already looking at Isis with distrust.

"Because that city needed some colour. Because it was funny. Becuase I felt guilty. Take a pick, I just did it. Yes, part of me hopes that the slaves there will remember soemthing other than the greyness of Cras, but it doesn’t mean I wish to fight in a pointless crusade."

"Pointless?" The man’s voice became angry as he clenched his fists. Leaning his neck to the side, Isis saw the number tattooed on his neck, "What we do is pointless?"

"Not what you do. I support your actions, but fighting a system that has existed for centuries is pointless. You don’t change things, you just change who is in control, is all. As you said, there are people who work with you simply because they have grievances with powerful masters. Tell me, are they masters themselves?" The man narrowed his gaze as he slowly nodded. "My point exactly. You have a noble cause. For them, it is a means to an end for more power. I am not fighting a pointless battle, nor do I want to. I want to travel and record stories. Now, can I leave?"

The man stared at her for a moment and smiled, "You can. But it would be a shame if those chasing your bounty found out you were here. Wouldn’t it?" Isis clenched her fists and stared at the man before sighing and letting all the tension out of her body. After a moment of silence, she burst into laughter and shook her head.

"You’re a hypocrite. Threatening my freedom becuase I don’t want to fight your battle, in something I have no stake in." Isis ran a hand through her hair and groaned.

"I never said I would tell them?"

"You did." Isis instantly replied, "You did, and now I have no choice."

"You have a choice still." The man replied, getting a dry chuckle in reply.

"What was it, Lady Ceiceil said? They have a choice, but one is incorrect. Now, if I walk out after refusing, you sell me off. I have the illusion of choice, something I believed you lot would know better than anyone. And for what? Becuase I refused to become a pawn in your endless crusade that will likely end with your death or enslavement. I don’t like what they do; it sickens me. But I have no say in what happens. I am a guest here." Isis rattled off passing glances between the people.

"Can you honestly say this as a person from Veston. As a believer in the Lord Creator." Isis smiled and felt the weight in her bag. Reaching in, she ignored the crossbow being lifted towards her again and grabbed the statue of Lady Death, pulling it out.

"I dare you to say I believe in a false God again." Trying to imagine what the worshipers of Lady Death would act like, she let all emotion drain from her face, leaving behind a sharp chill in her face. Next, she thought of the being that gave her a command before birth and her mother. The people tensed up and stared at her, sneaking glances at one another. Isis stared at the man who held the crossbow towards her, her gaze a mixture of love and immense fear for soemthing she couldn’t understand. "Do it, and send me to her new world."

The man on the chair laughed and looked at Isis, "If you’re going to lie, don’t do it to someone who knows how you left Cras."

"Ahh, you’re on about Seth being linked with Luar." Isis smiled, "Do not be mistaken. He doesn’t believe in a stone in the sky," Her tone changed to sound more disgusted, "But he also doesn’t follow the truth. I will make him see the truth; that is why I travel with him." Before the man could talk again, Isis pulled out her journal and threw it over to him, "Am I lying. Would I so faithfully follow in Her Emissary’s steps if my faith were not real?"

The man looked down at the journal in his lap and slowly opened it. Flipping through numerous pages, his gaze hardened as he peeked up at Isis. "You’re a chronicler."

"Of course." Isis sharply replied, stepping forward and snatching the journal back. "Do not think to use me for your own schemes. I will continue my holy mission. So let us pretend this never happened." Putting the statue and journal away, Isis stared at the man and, seeing he had nothing left to say, turned around and left, nearly collapsing once the door closed, unsure if her lies worked.

.

.

.

"What now?" One of the people asked, making David fall into thought.

"She isn’t a fanatic." Colding, replying, he stared at the door, "She believes and fears soemthing, but those fanatics have different looks."

"Shall we leak her arrival to those people then?" Asking David, the man, thought about what Isis said and shook his head.

"I said it wouldn’t be us to do it. They will find her eventually, and when they do, we will come in and save her. This city has one thing correct. Debt is better than loyalty."