Xaxac clung much more fiercely to Agalon than he needed to in order to maintain the illusion of fear as they rode past the fields in the early morning light. There were several people out and about in the morning heat, which would grow even more oppressive as the day continued, but he didn’t see Abe among them. It wouldn’t really matter, in any meaningful way, if he had, but part of him wanted Abe to at least see him. His father had worked so hard to protect Xac from everything, to hide him away, to provide the best life he could for him. Xac thought that his father wanted him to be realistic, and to be happy.

But he didn’t see him.

Xac had never really taken in how big the plantation was. Agalon owned not just the house and the fields, which were impressive by themselves with their many buildings, storehouses, greenhouses, slave quarters, chapel, and many others, alongside rows of crops that went on for miles and miles, bogs and ponds that grew certain berries and fish, but he also owned huge tracts of land behind all that, which eventually terminated in the woods that were used to collect wood and, unbeknownst to Xaxac, for the nobility to hunt in.

It was on the edge of these woods that they rode, to an area Xac had never been to before. It was out past even the pond, far beyond the slave quarters, but there were people here. There were more of the tiny wooden houses that Xac recognized from his youth, fire pits for cooking, another water pump, and a big field that seemed as if it had seen better days. It was right up against the edge of the tall stone fence that seperated the plantation from the woods, and had a smaller wooden fence running around it that was still tall enough it would have to be climbed rather than jumped.

Then there were the people.

They were all human, and all men, but they were so much bigger than the men Xac usually saw that for a minute he was confused by their existence. Xac was not familiar with any of the great apes except the group he belonged to, but had he been, he could have been forgiven for making a comparison; these men were universally a head and shoulders taller than him, a head taller than Agalon, and as broad as two or three elves. Most of them had beards and body hair, and none of them wore shirts to cover their muscles, clearly defined under broken, bruised skin and scars.

Xac instantly liked them, for reasons he could not place, but looking at them called up all those strange emotions Agalon had awakened in him, and he was a bit reluctant to get off the horse when Agalon put his hands on his waist to help him down. He was already confused by these feelings, but they made even less sense given how these men looked nothing like Agalon, the man who had awakened them.

Xac wished he was drunk.

“Alright, darlin, stay outta the way and try to amuse yourself,” Agalon told him, and pointed to a small table near a fire pit, which Xac assumed was where the men ate. Xac nodded, hugged him, and moved to obey him.

“Who’s the pretty boy?” One of the men asked, and Xac turned to look at him. He wasn’t the tallest man there, but he may have been the broadest, and he seemed to be the least injured. Unlike most of the men around him, he wasn’t covered in scars; his exposed chest was completely unmarred, and Xac hated himself, because he knew this comment had been meant as an insult, had been said in the tone and cadence of an insult, but the first thought his brain supplied was:

He thinks I’m pretty.

“Stop it,” Agalon commanded him, “This is Xaxac, my pleasure slave, and he’s going to be coming with me. All y’all leave him alone. He’s got a real skittish way about him.”

Xac waved at the group because all things considered, that seemed like an introduction.

A murmur went along the crowd that Xac did not understand until the broad man spoke again.

“The shifter? That little feller is the shifter?”

Xac flung himself onto the table, put his feet on the bench and huffed. Why did everyone know that? Did people come out here? Did gossip spread this far?

“Stop it,” Agalon said again.

“That ain’t what I thought,” The man explained, “that just… ain’t what I thought.”

“Do you think?” Agalon asked with a snarl, “I didn’t know that was somethin you could do, given how you acted last season. If you’d displayed any sense I’d’a entered you at Satra. Prove me wrong this year, Billy.”

“I woulda won at Satra,” the man shot back, sounding insulted, “You shoulda put me in! I’d’a won!” He smiled at Xac and continued, “Hey pretty boy, you know why they call me Billy the Bull?”

“Are you a shifter too?” Xac asked, and Billy’s face scrunched up as if he had been insulted. “No, I ain’t a fuckin monster, they call me-”

He screamed, and for a second Xac didn’t understand what had happened. It looked as if his muscles had simply stopped working, had gone rigid, and had no longer been able to support him. He fell to the ground in a lump, and Xac connected the way the stones in Agalon’s eared glowed like Hattie May’s secret ring, the way Agalon stood with his hand outstretched toward Billy, to the pain Billy was in. Xac could only see Agalon from the back, but he knew that he had started his day in a bad mood, and it was probably not a good time to cross him. Xac didn’t know a lot about magic, other than it was something elves did, but he knew it when he saw it.

“He ain’t a ‘fuckin monster’,” Agalon hissed, lowered his hand, and the stones in his ears stopped glowing, “Get up. Run. Do fifty laps and don’t start shit. It’s a great day for me to whoop somebody’s ass.”

Billy drew a great breath as if he had been unable to breath while under the spell, and Xac thought about what Lorsan had told him about the military. It was where they sent you to learn how to kill people for the empress. Agalon had been in the military.

Billy pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, as if his muscles had not fully recovered, glared at Xac, then turned to Agalon and spoke with ice in his voice.

“Yes, master.”

He joined the other hulking men and began to run in circles around the rim of the fence while Agalon turned his back on him and came striding to Xaxac. He positioned himself comfortable on the bench, leaning against the table, pulled a flash from his pocket, took a drink then offered it to Xac, who took it greedily.

“Hot as hell out here, ain’t it, darlin?” He asked, and as the men passed him he shouted, “ONE!” Then, to Xac, he continued, “I wish y’all was smart enough to learn your numbers. It’d make shit a whole lot easier on me- TWO.”

Whatever was in the flask was the same stuff Xac had drank with Lorsan; it didn’t taste like wine, it tasted like fire. Xac liked it a lot better, and found that he was getting a bit tipsy after only one drink. He handed the flask back to Agalon as he shouted, “THREE”.

Xac considered, very seriously, about telling Agalon that there were three hundred and sixty pedals on the flowers on the ceiling of the bedroom. But he thought it may be better if he didn’t know that Xac knew that. Xac wondered how many marks had been on the wardrobe that Agalon had gotten rid of. Xac wondered if Agalon had gotten rid of the wardrobe because he knew about the marks.

Xac knew he wouldn’t have wanted to run in the heat. The sun had fully risen now, and the air was humid, which made it even worse. But even so, he was happy to be outside, happy to be out of the bedroom. He didn’t want the men to dislike him, because he thought he may be out here quite a bit, since Agalon apparently came here every day, but they seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot. In the house, being pretty was a good thing. He had never heard it used as an insult before.

“They don’t like me,” Xac whispered after Agalon had shouted:

“TEN”.

“That’s just how they are,” Agalon huffed, “Gruff and whatnot. They’ll like you. Believe me, they’ll like you. They’ll be fallin over themselves to get to you. You’re good motivation. ELVEN!”

Xaxac didn’t understand what Agalon meant, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Sometimes Agalon would say things that brought back the cloud of dread, of negativity, and Xac hated it. He wanted to just be able to enjoy things, and once again elected to ignore it. So he leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees and watched the men run. It seemed ridiculous, to run and run and not get anywhere. It wasn’t even making them any faster.

“FIFTY,” Agalon proclaimed as he stood, “Alright, let’s do some strength training! The first match is in less than a month and I’ve already filled out the sign-ups, I’ll take them to file here in the next little bit, so if anybody wants to impress me this is the day to do it! On the ground! Let’s go!”

Xaxac watched the men spread out in the open field, fall to the ground, and begin pushing themselves up and down with their hands. Billy was easily the fastest at this, and Xac watched as he moved one hand to the small of his back and kept up the motion with the other. That seemed impressive, seemed as if it was worth noticing.

“Fuckin showboat,” Agalon huffed, “Bullheaded.”

Xac made a sort of humming sound that indicated that he had heard him but neither agreed or disagreed with his assessment and pushed his legs together.

“Can I have another drink?” He asked and Agalon handed him the flask without turning to look at him.