Chapter 3: Flickering like a candle in the Wind

Al Mussad's curiosity couldn't be contained any longer. The moment I woke up, his voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence of the cell.

"What happened next?" he asked, his gaze intense. "Were you replaced?"

I recounted the story, the accusations, the betrayal, the swift descent into this cold, dark prison. As I spoke, the weight of my loss pressed down on me, a heavy, suffocating cloak.

The next morning, a wave of despair washed over me. I couldn't shake the feeling that the Duke was disappointed in me, that I had somehow failed him.

We sat together in the carriage, an awkward silence hanging between us. The Duke, his face etched with concern, seemed lost in thought. The carriage lurched to a halt, the horses snorting and pawing the ground. We had arrived at the slave market, the same place where I had spent five long years, a forgotten soul in a sea of despair.

The Duke stepped out of the carriage, his gaze sweeping across the crowded marketplace. He approached a merchant, their voices a low murmur, a language I didn't understand. I watched as he scanned the faces of the slaves, his eyes searching for something, someone. He was looking for a slave no one wanted, a slave who had been overlooked, forgotten, left to languish in the shadows.

Then, he returned, a small, thin boy in tow. The boy's eyes were wide with fear, his body trembling slightly.

"This is your new charge," the Duke said, his voice gentle. "Train him. After a year, you will be my retainer."

A wave of relief washed over me, a sudden burst of hope in the darkness. I was not forgotten. The Duke had a plan, a purpose for me.

I took the boy under my wing, showing him the ropes of the library, teaching him the basics of reading and writing. The year passed quickly, filled with laughter, learning, and a growing sense of purpose.

When the year was over, I presented myself to the Duke. He introduced me to his wife, a woman with a warm smile and kind eyes, and his two sons and daughter, all well-mannered and intelligent. I found myself playing the role of teacher, tutor, and companion to the Duke's children, a role I embraced with a newfound joy.

When the Duke was busy with business or meetings with other nobles, he would task me with various duties, from navigation to translation. I became his personal library, his walking encyclopedia, his trusted confidant.

And as the years passed, I slowly began to realize that even a good man like the Duke had enemies. The world was a complex place, filled with shadows and secrets, and even the most benevolent actions could have unintended consequences.

The first half of my story was a journey of hardship, loss, and despair. But the second half, the years spent with the Duke, had been a journey of hope, purpose, and unexpected joy.

But now, I was back in the prison, the weight of my past pressing down on me. The future was uncertain, my path shrouded in darkness. But I clung to the memory of the Duke's kindness, his unwavering belief in me. And I hoped, with a fragile, flickering hope, that I would find my way back to him, back to the light.

Al Mussad's voice, low and gravelly, echoed in the cell. "What happened next?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Nine years had passed since I had entered the Duke's service. Five years in the library, four as his retainer. I had learned so much, grown so much. I had become a part of the Duke's world, his confidant, his shadow.

I told Al Mussad about the nobles, their attempts to corrupt the Duke, their offers of wealth and power in exchange for his loyalty. The Duke, however, remained steadfast in his principles. He refused bribes, he refused to compromise his ideals.

The nobles, frustrated by his resistance, invited him to a hunting party. The King would be there, they said, to show respect. The Duke, despite his dislike for the nobles, accepted. He couldn't refuse the King's request.

We rode into the forest, the air crisp and cool, the scent of pine filling our lungs. As we hunted, an arrow, swift and silent, pierced the air. It struck the Duke in the chest, a sickening thud echoing through the woods.

It wasn't a hunting party. It was an assassination.

I reacted instinctively, rushing to the Duke's side. He gasped for air, his eyes filled with pain. "Take your freedom," he whispered, his voice weak. "Run."

But I couldn't leave him. I carried him, his weight heavy on my shoulders, his blood staining my clothes. We ran, but it was too late. The poison, swift and deadly, had taken hold. The Duke died in my arms.

The nobles, their faces twisted with malice, pointed their fingers at me. They accused me of the assassination, their words dripping with venom.

And here I was, back in the prison, the weight of my grief and betrayal crushing me.

The Duke, the man who had given me hope, who had shown me kindness, was gone. And I, the man who had sworn to protect him, was now a prisoner, falsely accused, my life hanging by a thread.

Al Mussad listened to my story, his face unreadable. His silence was a heavy weight, a reminder of the darkness that surrounded me. But in his eyes, I saw a flicker of understanding, a glimmer of something more.

Maybe, just maybe, he could help me. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this prison, a way to find justice for the Duke, a way to reclaim my life.

But for now, all I could do was wait, hope flickering like a candle in the wind, praying that the darkness wouldn't consume me entirely.