Knowledge Is Power: The Last Reader

Edward Colston sat behind a large wooden desk, staring at a document.

At the top, written in thick black ink, were three words: THE WHITE PRINCESS.

Below it was a collection of names. Merchants. Bakers. Distributors. Travelers. People who had heard rumors. People who had seen a woman in white. People who claimed to know someone who knew someone who had once seen someone wearing a white dress.

Almost all of it was useless. Colston hated useless information.

He had spent days searching for her. Nothing. It was as though she had simply appeared from nowhere. No family. No home. No history. No childhood. No records. Nothing.

Sometimes, late at night, Colston found himself thinking about her. The white hair. The strange eyes. The dress. The confidence. She had become less like a person and more like an idea. A mystery. Something he couldn’t possess because he couldn’t even find it.

That irritated him.

He closed the document, his fingers pressing flat against the paper. "She’s not real."

One of the slaves standing nearby looked at him. Colston noticed. "What?"

The slave immediately lowered their eyes, their voice barely a whisper. "Nothing, master."

Colston leaned back in his chair. "Good."

He had just finished lunch. It had been an expensive meal, as usual—delicate pastries, imported fruits, wine that cost more than most people earned in a month. He was beginning to feel tired, a heavy lethargy settling into his limbs.

He waved toward one of his guards. "You."

The guard looked at him, his expression carefully blank. "Leave."

The guard hesitated. "Sir?"

"Find someone else. Your face is distracting me."

The guard swallowed hard. He had been feeling strange for several minutes—his stomach churning, his vision beginning to blur at the edges. "I..."

Colston frowned, his irritation growing. "What?"

The guard tried to answer. Instead, his knees gave out, his body crumpling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

Colston shot upright, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "What happened?"

Nobody answered. One of the slaves looked down at the fallen guard, their expression unreadable. Then, calmly, they said: "Poison."

Colston froze. The word wasn’t supposed to come from them. Not without permission. Not without being asked.

He slowly turned toward the speaker. The slave looked directly at him, their eyes carrying something that made Colston’s blood run cold.

Disgust. Real disgust.

Colston’s face tightened, his voice sharp with outrage. "How dare you look at me like that?"

The slave didn’t answer, their gaze unwavering.

Colston stood, his hands slamming against the desk. "Guards!"

Nothing.

He looked toward the doorway, his voice rising. "Guards!"

Still nothing.

A cold feeling settled in his stomach, spreading through his chest like ice water.

Then the slave spoke again. "I told you." Her expression remained completely flat, her voice carrying no emotion. "Stupid poison."

Colston looked around wildly, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. "What is happening?"

The woman smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. "You only have slaves left."

Colston’s eyes widened. He looked at the other slaves—the ones who had served him for years, the ones who had obeyed his every command without question. None of them moved. None of them tried to help him.

Then the slave started to shift.

White hair. White eyes. White skin. A white dress.

Colston stared, his mouth falling open. "You."

The White Princess smiled, her expression one of cold satisfaction. "Of course me."

He backed away, his legs hitting the desk behind him. "How?"

Aria shrugged, her voice light and almost casual. "Shapeshifting."

She walked toward him, her footsteps measured and deliberate. Colston looked around desperately, his eyes wild. "Guards!"

No answer.

Aria stopped a few feet away, her head tilting slightly. "You spent all that time looking for me." She paused, letting the words sink in. "And you never thought to look among the people you owned."

Colston’s face went pale, his skin taking on a sickly gray pallor.

Aria’s hands clenched at her sides. She remembered the merchant—the broken glass, his final words, the way he had looked at her. The way she had tried to save him. The way she had failed.

And now Colston was standing in front of her. The person responsible for thousands of people living exactly like those slaves. The person who had built an empire on suffering.

Aria stepped closer, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You made people into objects."

Colston raised his hands, his voice pleading. "Wait."

"You called it education."

"Listen to me."

"You took people who had nothing."

"I can explain."

"You took children."

"I—"

"You took entire communities." Aria’s voice cracked, the weight of everything she had seen pressing down on her. "You decided they belonged to you."

Colston backed away, his hands still raised. "You don’t understand the world."

"No." Aria stared at him, her eyes blazing. "I understand it perfectly."

She struck him. Colston fell against the desk, his body crumpling under the force of the blow. He looked up in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Aria didn’t give him time to recover. The anger she’d been carrying since the cave—since the merchant, since everything—came pouring out. She attacked him with raw, uncontrolled fury. There was no technique. No elegance. No clever plan. No White Princess persona. Just anger.

Colston tried to shield himself. "Stop!"

Aria didn’t.

"Please!"

She couldn’t hear him anymore. Not really. Her mind kept returning to the merchant. Why? Why did you do it?

She had wanted someone to blame. Now she had found someone. And she refused to stop.

Until—

"Aria."

Nothing.

"Aria!"

Kelme grabbed her arm, his grip firm and unyielding. She tried to pull away. "Let go!"

"Enough."

"He deserves it!"

"I know."

"He killed them!"

"I know."

"He—"

Kelme held her firmly, his voice steady. "It’s enough."

Aria’s breathing was heavy, her chest heaving. She looked down. Colston was no longer fighting back—his body still, his face pale, his chest barely moving.

She finally stopped.

For a long moment, the room was silent. Kelme looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You did it."

Aria stared at Colston. She didn’t feel better. She had expected something—relief, justice, peace. Anything. There was nothing. Just exhaustion.

Kelme released her. "Let’s get them out."

Aria nodded, her movements slow and mechanical.

They opened the doors. "You’re free."

The slaves stared at her. Nobody moved.

Aria frowned. "What?"

One finally spoke, their voice small and uncertain. "Where do we go?"

Aria blinked. "Anywhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want."

Another shook their head, their eyes downcast. "I don’t know where."

Aria stared at them. "You can find work."

"Work?"

"Yes."

Kelme stepped in, his voice carrying a note of forced optimism. "Become employees."

The slave looked confused. "What is that?"

Kelme paused, rubbing his chin. "Well... you do something for someone. They give you money. You use the money to buy food, shelter, clothes..."

The slave thought about it, their brow furrowing. "That sounds exactly like slavery but with extra steps."

Kelme froze, his mouth opening and closing.

Aria slowly turned toward him, her expression one of exhausted resignation.

The slave continued, their voice carrying a note of genuine confusion. "The step being the master gives us money after?"

Kelme opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Technically..."

Aria stared at the group. She finally understood. They weren’t refusing to leave. They genuinely didn’t know how.

Some had spent their entire lives under Colston’s control. Some had been taken from distant lands. Some didn’t know where their homes were anymore. Some had nowhere to return to. Some knew nothing except what they had been taught by their captors.

Aria sighed, her shoulders slumping. "No wonder he barely bothered with chains."

Kelme looked at her. "I’ve seen people like this before."

"So what do we do?"

"They need help."

Aria groaned. "I don’t want this."

"Neither do they."

"I mean I don’t want to become responsible for thirty people!"

"Then don’t."

"Good." Aria turned toward the entrance, her voice firm. "Everyone go."

The slaves looked at her. Nobody moved.

Aria frowned. "Go."

Still nothing.

"Why are you still here?"

One raised a hand, their voice tentative. "Where should we go?"

Aria stared at him. "Somewhere!"

"Where?"

"I don’t know!"

Kelme sighed. "That went well."

Aria turned around, her expression one of defeat. "Fine." She pointed toward the door. "Follow us temporarily."

Kelme blinked. "Really?"

"Temporarily." She pointed at everyone, her voice firm. "And nobody becomes my slave."

They all nodded.

"Nobody works for free."

More nodding.

"And nobody touches my sugar."

They looked confused. "What’s sugar?"

Aria stared at them. Kelme laughed. "Oh, this is going to be interesting."

---

They followed them.

For the next hour, Aria tried to lose them. She turned left. They followed. She turned right. They followed. She walked faster. They walked faster. She ran. They ran.

Finally, Aria stopped, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "How are you all so good at tracking?"

One of them shrugged. "Master taught us."

Aria stared at him. "Of course he did."

Kelme was trying not to laugh.

"What’s funny?"

"Nothing."

"Kelme."

"I’m just impressed."

"Stop being impressed."

Eventually, they reached the cave. Aria stood at the entrance, looking behind her. Thirty people. All staring at her.

She sighed. "No."

They continued staring.

"You are not staying inside."

They looked disappointed.

Aria pointed toward the empty area outside the cave. "Build shelters."

Nobody moved.

Aria sighed again. "Come on."

One of them raised a hand. "Yes, master."

Aria stared. "Don’t call me that."

"Of course not. She’s a Queen," Kelme said, a grin spreading across his face.

Kelme whispered: "I got you."

Aria looked at the group, then at Kelme. Then at the cave. Then at the sky. Then back at them.

"Fine. As long as it’s not princess or master."

She pointed toward the nearby dead trees. "Wood."

She pointed toward the ground. "Stone."

She pointed toward Kelme. "Ask him."

Kelme blinked. "Why me?"

"Because apparently you’re the responsible one now."

Kelme smiled. "I always knew you’d eventually recognize my talents."

Aria rolled her eyes.

The former slaves began moving. Slowly. Confused. But moving.

Aria watched them for a moment. One of them smiled. Another laughed. A few started arguing about how to build something.

It was the first time she had seen them behave like ordinary people.

She sighed. "Maybe this won’t be so bad."

Kelme looked at her. "Don’t say that."

"Why?"

"Because every time you say that, something terrible happens."

Aria frowned. "You’re becoming superstitious."

"I’m becoming experienced."

She looked back at the growing group. Then toward the cave. Then toward the city. The army was still searching for the White Princess. Colston’s network was destroyed. And now she had accidentally acquired an entire village.

Aria covered her face. "I wanted to make money."

Kelme laughed. "You did."

"How?"

"You got employees."

Aria slowly lowered her hands. She stared at him. "Kelme."

"Yes?"

"If you ever say that again..."

He smiled. "Yes?"

"...I’ll make you build all their houses."

Kelme’s smile vanished. The workers nearby immediately looked at him. One of them asked: "Where do we start?"

Kelme sighed. Aria smiled.

For the first time that day—she almost laughed.

Then someone shouted from the edge of the clearing.

"ARIA! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"

Her smile disappeared. She looked toward the voice.

"What now?"