The Wrath of the Unchained
Chapter 53 - The Cost of Redemption

Chapter 53: Chapter 53 - The Cost of Redemption

Duarte slipped away from the Nuri camp, each step deliberate, each breath measured. The cool night air did little to calm the storm raging within him. He could still hear the distant crackling of torches, the quiet murmur of soldiers preparing for the next battle. But his path was set. A lot of people were counting on him. He couldn’t let the mercenaries succeed—even if it cost him his life.

King Lusweti had given him a second chance, a chance he never believed he deserved. He had been a slaver, a murderer, a man without a soul. And yet, here was Nuri, a kingdom where men and women fought side by side, where people weren’t measured by their past but by their will to fight for something greater than themselves. The sight of women taking up arms, of soldiers battling not for coin but for love and honor, was something unheard of in the world he once knew.

"If I survive this," he murmured, fists clenched, "I will dedicate my life to this kingdom."

As he reached the rendezvous point, the mercenaries were already waiting—rowdy, unruly, and stinking of sweat and blood. The air reeked of unwashed bodies, spilt alcohol, and the metallic tang of old blood. He recognized their faces. Men he once fought beside. Men who had laughed as villages burned. He forced himself to remain still as they turned toward him, their grins twisted and predatory.

"Finally, our inside man makes an appearance," one of them sneered, his voice thick with amusement. His teeth were yellowed, his breath rancid as he leaned in closer.

"I’ve done my part and infiltrated the army. What orders does Almeida have for me?" Duarte said, keeping his tone indifferent, almost robotic.

The mercenary scoffed. "Oh, no need to worry about that. We’re nearly done here. All you need to do is tell us where the king of those savages is. We kill him, and the army crumbles."

Duarte tilted his head slightly. "Is that really it? I doubt they’d fall apart just because their king is dead."

The mercenaries laughed, a cruel, guttural sound. "Of course they will. These people are dogs—take away their master, and they scatter. Besides, we need to get back to the coast. Almeida is almost finished. By the time we’re done here, we’ll be rich beyond measure."

A chill crept up Duarte’s spine. "Something happening at the coast?" he asked carefully.

One of the men narrowed his eyes. "Why so many questions, Duarte? Don’t tell me these people have softened you?"

Duarte forced a scoff. "Simple curiosity. Since when do we let savages dictate our moves?"

The mercenary seemed satisfied with that answer and smirked. "By now, Almeida has probably already taken Kilwa. The Sultan is dead, and he’s out there collecting the merchandise. Once he’s done, he’ll make his way here to round up these soldiers and the rest of those savages. We have a lot of buyers lined up, after all."

They laughed again—loud, careless. Their joy was sickening.

Duarte clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The way they spoke about human lives, about men, women, and children as nothing more than property, made his stomach churn. But a voice in the back of his mind whispered, You were the same once.

You sold slaves. You killed innocents. You were no different.

His throat felt dry, bile rising. But he couldn’t afford hesitation. Not now.

"The King is in Nuri," he lied smoothly. "Once the war started, he retreated. Only the General remains on the battlefield. It will take us days to reach him."

One of the mercenaries groaned in frustration. "More work. At least we know he’s a coward. The moment things got serious, he ran like a dog with its tail between its legs." He spat on the ground. "No matter. We’ll kill the general first, then head to Nuri. Maybe have some fun while we’re there."

Their laughter echoed through the darkness, sending a shiver down Duarte’s spine. He parted ways with them, moving swiftly but cautiously back toward the camp. His heart pounded in his ears. He had to warn them—

A blade pressed against his throat.

Duarte froze.

A voice, sharp with accusation, whispered in his ear. "We should never have trusted you."

His breath hitched. He raised his hands slowly, palms open in surrender. "Give me a minute to explain."

"Why?" The blade pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Why should I let a traitor spew more lies?"

Duarte forced himself to stay calm. "General Simiyu can vouch for me. You have to let me speak to him."

"I saw you with them," the voice seethed. "I heard you. I heard what you really think of us."

Duarte took a slow breath. "If you heard me, then you know I lied about the King being in Nuri. Why would I do that if I was truly betraying you?"

Silence.

The blade didn’t lower, but the pressure eased. "Men betray for things more worthless than gold."

"King Lusweti spared my life," Duarte said, voice unwavering. "He gave me something I never thought I deserved. This is my chance to earn his trust. Please... let me prove I belong in Nuri."

Another pause. Then the blade withdrew. Duarte turned, finally seeing his captor—Kibet, Nuri’s best scout. His sharp eyes burned with distrust.

"If I find out you lied," Kibet said coldly, "I will cut off your head myself."

Duarte nodded. "I’d expect no less from Nuri’s finest."

Without another word, he made his way to General Simiyu’s tent, his pulse still hammering in his ears. He relayed everything he had learned.

Simiyu listened in silence, his expression hardening with every word. When Duarte finished, the General slammed his fist against the table. "If what they said is true, Lusweti is walking into an active coup."

Duarte’s stomach twisted. "Is there any way to warn him?"

Simiyu exhaled sharply. "No. He was right—we do need faster communication. But there’s nothing we can do now. We just have to trust he’ll survive."

Duarte clenched his fists. "And the mercenaries?"

A cold, grim smile crossed Simiyu’s face. "Simple. We take care of them. I’ll be the bait. We pick the best terrain, use every advantage... and leave none of them alive."

Duarte nodded. "Yes, sir."

Simiyu placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You did well, Duarte. Because of you, we may finally end this."