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Alan slowly stood up, his eyes unwavering. He turned to the corner of the tent, where a worn-out iron hammer that had been a companion to their family for many years lay. This hammer was his father's favorite, witnessing the joys and sorrows of their family, used to secure every wooden stake of the tent, and to craft various household items. Although its appearance had long lost its luster, to Alan, this hammer carried too many memories and emotions.
He walked up to the hammer, tightly grasping its handle, as if drawing strength and courage from it. At this moment, he was filled with unease and anxiety, but more so with a sense of responsibility and duty.
Just as he was about to lift the tent flap, his mother quickly stood up with a worried expression on her face and said, "Alan, don't go out. Your father said we need to stay here."
Alan turned to look at his mother, his gaze passing through her shoulder to the little girl tightly held in her arms - his sister Eilena. Eilena's face was pale, and she looked at him with fearful eyes, as if silently pleading for him not to leave.
This scene made Alan feel a tightness in his heart. He knew he couldn't let his family continue living in fear. He said to his mom, "Mom, dad went out alone, he might be in danger. I can't let him face it alone, I have to go help him."
His mom looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions. After a few seconds of silence and struggle, she finally nodded and said, "Okay, but you must come back quickly. Be careful, I don't want to lose either of you."
Alan felt the weight in his mother's words, he bit his lip, tightened his grip on the hammer, and took a deep breath. He walked to the tent opening, gently lifted the curtain, and then strode out.
As he stepped out of the tent, he was filled with various emotions: fear, unease, but more than anything, a sense of responsibility and duty. These responsibilities and duties stemmed not only from his role as a son, but also from the burden he might have to bear as the head of the family in the future.
Alan slowly pulled open the tent's curtain and stepped out of the crude dwelling. As soon as he emerged, he felt a dramatic shift in the atmosphere. The previously bustling slave camp had become unusually quiet, with a suffocating sense of oppression hanging in the air. "What is this?" he exclaimed, his gaze falling on a group of soldiers dressed in black cloaks and wearing black masks. Alan was astonished to discover that it was Baron Morgan's Black Flag Army standing in formation.
These soldiers, wearing black masks and cloaks, were Baron Morgan's personal guard, known for their ruthless and unwavering loyalty. They held long spears, their eyes glaring fiercely through the slits of their masks at the people around them. They only mobilized for the most important or dangerous missions, which left the slaves in the camp feeling quite frightened and confused.
In front of the Black Flag Army, there is a man riding a black warhorse. He is wearing the iconic robe of The Sacred Church, embroidered with various mysterious symbols and emblems. He looks down at the slave below with a sorrowful expression, as if silently evaluating or judging them. His presence seems to intensify the sense of oppression.
"Get out of the way!" A soldier of the Black Flag Army rudely pushes a slave who is too close to the man, knocking him to the ground.
Black Flag Army soldiers in the middle occasionally used their spears to roughly push away the slaves who got too close to the man. Every time the spear touched flesh, it would elicit a sharp scream or moan, but these sounds seemed unusually weak in the oppressive atmosphere.
Alan tightly gripped the iron hammer in his hand, lightly traversing the dense crowd, and finally arrived at his father's side. His father stood at the outer edge of the large group of slaves, his face pale, but his eyes unexpectedly firm, as if an indomitable force was supporting him.
"Dad, what's going on?" Alan asked, his tone revealing a kind of indescribable tension and unease. He could feel that this was not an ordinary gathering.
Alan's father turned around and saw him, his eyes slightly easing, but the suppressed anger on his face did not diminish. "Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the tent? This is not the place for you to come."
"Someone has to step up and help you, right?" Alan's mouth curled up slightly, although the smile was obviously forced and unnatural.
Just as Alan's father was about to say something again, the man in the The Sacred Church robe suddenly raised his hand. In that instant, all the chatter, noise, and even the children's cries froze, replaced by an eerie silence.
"Everyone," he began speaking, his voice as chilling as ice, clear and indifferent, "Today, I come to announce to you an extremely important matter on behalf of Duke Oreston, blessed by the God of Happiness, and at the command of Baron Morgan."
Alan and his father exchanged a glance, and in that moment of eye contact, they both saw the tension and unease in each other's eyes. Their intuition told them that this moment would be a major turning point in their lives. And from the demeanor and tone of the man from The Sacred Church, this turning point was likely to be the beginning of a catastrophic event.
The man sat on the horse, looking down at the crowd, seemingly enjoying the feeling of controlling the whole scene. A slight smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth as he elegantly took out a delicate envelope, exuding an air of authority. He began to read aloud:
"Dear slaves, I am Duke Morgan, blessed by the God of Happiness. On the creation day of Four Symbols, I hope you are all doing well."
His voice carries an unconscious sense of superiority, as if every word of his is a gem bestowed upon those present.
"As always, I care about all of you. Even if you are not blessed by the Four Symbols, I am still full of compassion and care, sincerely hoping that each and every one of you can live a happy life."
The man paused halfway through his recitation, cleared his throat lightly, and then smiled as he glanced around at the crowd. He seemed to completely ignore their tired, crowded, and oppressed faces, continuing to read out his so-called "concern."
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