Belch sat anxiously waiting for dinner. Both Aidan’s servant and personal chef organized the servings on the long, black-painted table. The food nearly lifted Belch off of her seat, drawing her into the aroma of steak and chicken. Buttered corn piled into a small mountain, posed beside delicate bread loaves simmering their surreal scent.

Belch had always loved the food back in the camps; the most exciting part of her day had been both lunch and dinner. It may have helped that you had to earn your meal through grueling work, which Belch had never been fond of.

She licked her lips, almost foaming at the mouth. How long could she be contained?

“In time,” Lorn said. As Aidan’s chef, he crafted this all by himself. He wore a white vest and a puffy white hat. His smile was comforting, prideful as he enjoyed having his cooking admired. “Lord Aidan will be with you two soon.”

“Do we have to wait?” Belch asked. On her seat, her feet couldn’t touch the ground. At five foot five, she wasn’t exactly tall, but she wasn’t necessarily short for a girl.

“Yes,” Lorn bowed his head. “Young lady, think of the wait like seasoning. The longer you wait, the better it will taste. And there’s no such thing as too much seasoning.”

Belch nodded. Her feet played with the legs of her black-jeweled chair, feeling the inner space of her seat. Mostly, she did this to stretch her legs, which pleaded for a chance to move around. It had been a few days since she last fought, and being this inactive felt wrong. While her mouth craved the food displayed before her, her body desired the thrill of fighting once again.

A beastly feeling, she was sure.

“Settle down,” Pedr said, irritation in his voice as he noticed Belch’s fidgeting. He sat across from her, his large size needing two chairs to support himself. They were both beside the table's head, where there was a chair lined and crested in solid gold, unique, whereas the other chairs had at most silver embedded into them—Lord Aidan’s seat, no doubt. “Display your best manners. We need to make a good first impression.”

Belch only recently learned that Pedr wasn’t human, but something called a swole. They appeared almost human-like, but their proportions were a human size and a half from their height, width, and depth. Their hands and feet usually doubled that of a typical human.

Pedr had a jaw formed like the blade of an ax. He used to have a beard, but before he arrived, he shaved. The sides of his white face were now clean with red rosy cheeks.

Belch liked Pedr, despite him assisting the cruel tamers. Pedr had done nothing but help the beasts do their labor. Back when Belch was too weak to lift a rod of two water-filled buckets, it was Pedr who helped her, lifting it and putting it over her shoulders. Though, he wasn’t exactly a friend to the beasts either. He was quicker to bend the tamers' knees than most beasts were.

“That’s all of it,” Lorn said, speaking to the swole servant in a black suit assisting him. He stopped behind Aidan’s golden chair, looking at Belch. “Would you like some water?”

She didn’t know how to respond. Water had been something she always got for herself, never handed to her. The few things that were were her clothes. Some beasts argued they were allowed to live when the humans had all the right to execute them for their eyes.

When she failed to pull her weight in labor, they withheld portions of food from her meals. Even the water was divided proportionally to her work.

Rarely did the beasts die to combat, perhaps one every other season. More often, three times a season, a beast worked themselves to death. They were usually weaker, incapable of holding their weight, but Belch always felt a sense of loss whenever her bunkmate vanished from her life.

“I’ll go get you some anyway,” Lorn smiled after Belch’s extended pause, hurrying to the kitchen connected to the dining room through an arched opening. He brought back a pitcher, moving past Pedr to fill Belch’s glass before crossing back to Pedr to also fill his. He set the pitcher down in the middle of the table, an arm's length from both of them. “Would you like anything else?”

Belch shook her head. “Th… thank you,” she flushed. She barely knew what gratitude was or when it was appropriate to show.

Lorn bowed respectfully. His smile once again comforted her. He turned to his swole helper, working with him to dress the table nicely for Lord Aidan’s arrival. “Wait for Lord Aidan. When he is satisfied, you may return to the kitchen.”

The servant nodded his head. Belch, in his position, would ask, “How do I know he’s satisfied?” In a way, her entire life was built of servitude. And yet, nothing she did, whether it was everything she had to give, made anybody other than herself happy.

Lorn left through the arch opening, leaving Belch and the two swoles alone.

Belch noticed herself salivating at the thought of food. The aromas of baked bread and grilled meat filled the room like dense gas, almost suffocating her with temptation. What she feared most now was the food going cold before Aidan arrived. If waiting was spice, then there was such a thing as too much spice.

“If you bite your tongue harder,” Pedr said. His voice echoed in his large mouth. “You’ll sever it. Now be patient.”

Belch sighed, trying to look away from the food, studying the table instead. A gray shield was painted in the middle, with two gray swords pointing to each side’s end. The black of the table made the plates stand out more, and—

She shook her head. Patience, she thought. Stop thinking about food!

Her eyes went down, noticing her shoes. She started tapping them on the spindle between the legs, alternating feet, slightly increasing her pace after every tap. Tap tap tap tap tap.

Pedr sighed across from her. For what reason, Belch had no idea. She continued tapping nonstop—

“Stop that!” Pedr grunted. “What about being patient means starting a ruckus?”

“S-sorry,” Belch said. She had never heard Pedr be so volatile. He seemed on edge. Did this dinner mean that much to him? Belch decided to stay quiet for his sake but struggled at first deciding on how to kill time while she waited for Aidan to show up. She settled on resting her elbows on the table, palming her eyes into her palms, staring into the darkness.

Before dinner, they handed her a new pair of shirt and trousers, though they were far too large for her. A boy’s size Belch figured, as they likely hadn’t considered the possibility of a girl surviving the surgery. She didn’t know how she survived or what made her special. If around a hundred had died before her, why had she survived out of all of them? Maybe girls were immune to their testing?

Her stomach didn’t feel unnatural, where she at least expected the presence of a tumor. What they put insider her had been enormous, possibly the size of a small organ. When she checked her stomach, she could see it in the form of a purple bruise. Her stomach area that burned had magically faded overnight, fixed thanks to the ointment Cyril instructed to apply before she slept. All that was to be determined was what her “gift” was going to be.

Loud steps came from behind. Belch lifted from her palms, turning around to the door behind her to the right. The swole servant stiffened immediately, straightening his back. The door opened to reveal a man with brown hair and eyes with a gold collar around his tight-fitting gray vest. The boots he wore left behind a trail of pink mist as he walked, though the boots each had a different style to them, contrasting Aidan’s otherwise perfect, symmetrical appearance. The left boot was shorter in size, while the right had nearly stretched halfway up his calf. Both were brown, but his right foot held a more metal texture while the left was more mixed between metal and leather.

His black trousers tucked snug into his boots, his waist tightened to a silver-colored belt, striking out in contrast between his gray torso and darker tones of his legs.

This had to be Aidan.

Aidan looked lavish and rich despite the asymmetry, with gold buttons and a zipper on his vested coat. He had a sword around his waist as well. As the swole servant pulled the golden chair back, Aidan adjusted the sheath so he could sit. The swole servant bowed before leaving.

Aidan poured his drink, a dark, purplish liquid in a tall glass. He sipped a small amount before setting it down to clear his throat. “Excuse my tardiness,” he said. His voice hit deep, scarily deep. “I was busy training. You may dig in.”

Belch about flew off her seat and onto the table, springing like how a leopard leaps on its prey. But a daggering stare from Pedr stopped her in her tracks. She huffed before reaching into the table, using her hands to grab a steak, two chicken breasts, two ears of corn, and a slice of bread. She looked up after setting her plate, noticing Pedr’s disgust.

“Excuse her, my lord,” Pedr said. Aidan was sipping on his wine, with his eyes looking right to Pedr. “The tamers didn’t train them to have manners.”

“What did I do wrong?” Belch asked.

“It’s quite alright,” Aidan said, not answering her question. “It’s not her fault. She’ll learn in time.”

“But what did I do?”

“I’ve seen a few of her fights,” Pedr said, continuing to ignore her. “She’s quite good at hand-to-hand combat. Not overtly strong, but smart with her feet, and quick to a punch—”

“What did I do wrong!” Belch raised her voice. She flushed as four eyes looked at her immediately. She averted her eyes before picking up her steak with her hand, tearing it apart with her teeth. Damn, that’s good.

“You’re…” Pedr paused. “Eating with your hands…”

“So?” Belch said. “I always eat like this.”

“But that’s ill-mannered,” Pedr said. “You should be using a knife and fork.”

“A what and what?”

Pedr pulled the silverware he was talking about up from his plate. Belch thought that had been mere decoration and not tools to eat with. She picked them up, unsure how they work.

“What do I do, stab my food?” Belch asked.

Pedr sighed. “Pretty much. You cut with the sharp blade, then use the fork to pick it up and place it in your mouth.”

Belch mumbled. What is this nonsense? She tried cutting the steak first. It was easier to pin the steak down to the table with her fork, so her plate didn’t move while cutting it into pieces. When she created a thin strip of steak, she lifted it to her mouth and swallowed. This takes forever!

“And as you see,” Pedr said, smiling at Aidan. “She’s a quick learner as well.”

“I can see that,” Aidan said. He didn’t smile. Most of his expressions came from lifting or lowering a single brow, with only an occasional frown. “Did they feed them well in her program?”

“She was fed every day, sir,” Pedr said. “Good portions too.”

“She seems to love food,” Aidan noted. “She must work hard if her figure is still healthy despite being a glutton.”

Belch was listening, though most of her attention went into eating “properly.” The food tasted fantastic. Lorn was right; waiting did make it taste better. While she could eat faster with her hands, she could savor the extraordinary flavors more by eating slowly with the utensils.

She could get used to his “manners” thing, especially if this was what she had to work with.

“They were under pretty strict labor and fighting regimens,” Pedr explained. “Hard work and exercise helped fight off some of her… habit. Though they were also fed in proportion to their work, so few ever actually got fat.”

“Interesting,” Aidan said. “And how do you know so much about this system?”

“I was a helper, though not an administrator. I was like a paid employee, but I studied what I could.”

“Are you intelligent?” Aidan asked. “No offense by the question, but many swoles in Valoria were well…”

“Slaves?” Pedr asked. “No, sir, I have a standard education.”

Aidan sipped his wine, finishing his glass. He poured himself some more, looking at Pedr. “Since you two are familiar, would you mind tutoring her?”

“Tutoring? Her? Excuse me, sir, but she doesn’t know how to read or write.”

“Exactly,” Aidan said. “Can you teach her how?”

“I… suppose I could,” Pedr said.

“Good,” Aidan said. “You’ll be given a two coin raise to whatever Dork paid you. But, you’ll also be searching actively.”

Pedr stacked two steaks, pinning them down with his fork before cutting, similar to how Belch worked her steak, only he ate twice as much, two steaks at the same time.

“Searching?” Pedr asked.

“Are you aware of what Soulgems are?” Aidan asked.

“They are what the swoles use for Gemchemy, the elves use for magic, and the humans use for enchanting weapons and armor, right? Far from that, I’m not so certain.”

Aidan nodded, eating his steak now. After he finished swallowing, he cleared his throat. “Right. We’ve enchanted her like how we would an ordinary weapon. She will have a power of some sort. Though, like enchanting objects, the power could be anything. She could expel lightning out of her skin; she could fly, swim faster than a shark, run faster than a horse.” His voice seemed much more rasp near the end. He immediately took another drink. “Point is, you will be testing and exploring until you find it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Pedr laughed nervously. “What will our schedule be like?”

“Sunrise to sundown until you find her enchantment,” Aidan said. “Hopefully, we will find it soon enough, but it’s vital to my plans that it’s found as soon as possible. After that, you’ll tutor her ‘till noon.”

Pedr nodded, chewing his steak. Belch moved onto the chicken, her favorite protein from the camp. Her stomach was reaching capacity, which she was surprised was even possible. However, she wouldn’t miss at least trying one of everything Lorn cooked up. Her glass of water had a grease mark from her lips, as she often drank right after binging off her plate.

Am I going to eat like this every day? Belch wondered. They told me being Chosen had benefits, but never clarified what those were.

She burped, immediately regretting it. Pedr sighed while Aidan looked at her with a deadpan face. “Sorry,” Belch flushed.

“It’s good food,” Aidan said. “I’ll thank the cook for you.”

Belch nodded, moving onto the corn. It tasted like candy to the mouth as the juices flooded inside with every crunch. When she pulled the cob away from her mouth, she caught a glimpse at Pedr, then gasped. “Sorry…”

“For what?”

“Eating with my hands,” Belch said. She put the cob back on the plate, then reached for her fork and knife.

“Hold up,” Pedr laughed. “You can eat that with your hands. That’s perfectly fine.”

“Then what about the bread?” Belch asked.

“You can eat that with your hands as well,” Pedr said. He was grinning at her as if this was funny. What about rules were funny? Why couldn’t she just use her hands however she wanted?

Dinner went on a while longer. Aidan ate as slow as Pedr, though Pedr ate twice as much with every bite. Aidan did, however, drink as much wine as Belch drank water. The swole servant came in through the arch entrance bringing Aidan another bottle of wine.

“Thank you,” Aidan said, taking the bottle and waving the swole back to the kitchen.

“I love your city, sir, and I envy your staff. They are all very well dressed,” Pedr said. “I bet you pay your employees a lot.”

“Ordin? The swole who just came in?” Aidan asked. “No, that’s my slave.”

“Your slave?” Pedr asked. His eyes widened as he swallowed air.

“Yes,” Aidan continued. “A very hard-working man. An excellent serviceman.”

Pedr froze across from Belch. It made eating quite uncomfortable, as now she was worrying about Pedr.

“What’s the matter?” Aidan asked, noticing Pedr’s distraught demeanor. “It’s not like you will be a slave.”

“But my brother will?” Pedr whispered under his breath. He turned his head to Aidan. His discomfort didn’t rub off on Aidan whatsoever. Aidan simply stared at him, waiting for him to speak. “I thought slavery was banned in the kingdoms.”

“Dormoor is not a kingdom,” Aidan said. “We are an independent country. Their foolish rules don’t apply to us.”

“But, slavery is wrong,” Pedr said.

“Oh? What makes it wrong?” Aidan asked.

Belch started to get nervous. Things were unexpectedly heating up in front of her. Pedr’s cheeks overheated, and if they got any hotter, Belch feared his face would char.

Belch didn’t know what a “slave” was or why Pedr seemed so upset at that word.

“You’re forcing the swoles to serve you against their will,” Pedr said. “No one wants to be a slave!”

“I’ll have you know that slaves are treated very well in Dormoor. I have laws ensuring pleasant working conditions all around. I ensure none of them are mistreated or abused, unlike how the kingdoms who claim righteousness for abolishing slavery had done once before. The slaves here have their own homes, their own clothes, hell, they’re even paid. Hardly even slaves at all.”

“And what would happen if one of them decides to stop working?” Pedr asked. “What happens when they don’t want to work for a master.”

“Nothing in life is ever free,” Aidan said. Suddenly, his voice was even coarser than before, like a log fed to a flame. “The disobedient slaves are treated like the disobedient civilians. They are tried and prosecuted, then hung. The swoles here aren’t unhappy, just like my people aren’t unhappy. Where were you born, boy?”

“Uro,” Pedr said reluctantly. “What does that have—”

Aidan lifted his hand. “Uro? The part of Brontos that does all of the selling of slaves? Ha! Their quality of life of a swole under me is a thousand times better than the torture they endure ordinary citizens there. Hell, those who are called ‘Slumdwellers’ should envy being one of my country’s slaves.”

“It’s wrong!” Pedr raised his voice.

“Wrong?” Aidan repeated. “That’s ironic, don’t you think?”

“How?” Pedr hissed. “How is this ironic to you?”

Aidan smirked sadistically, then turned to Belch, pointing an open palm her way. This conversation made eating nearly impossible to do, and now the attention shifted on her, who had nothing to do with anything going on.

“You question my morals, my ethics, yet you yourself were involved in the exploitation of child labor.” Aidan’s voice started to fume. He drew a breath, turning back to Pedr. “She never had a choice in the matter. It might be worse than what I do. Look at what Dork does before you dare speak down to me. Everyone with green eyes is stripped from their parents at birth. They are secluded, forced into labor, forced to fight other children to appease clients like me. So, then, you speak impassioned about slavery but fail to see the atrocities you’ve been a part of.”

Pedr scoffed. “That’s different,” he said. “We didn’t enslave our own kind.”

“You don’t?” Aidan asked. “Last I remember, I purchased swoles from swoles, brought overseas by ships captained by swoles. No, my friend. You say that slavery is wrong, and I, to an extent, agree with that sentiment. But that’s why I improved the process instead of pretending that it never happened. What I do, I admit to you, is evil. But not unnecessarily so. In order to keep up with the Valorian Kingdoms, I need slavery.”

“I can’t… agree with you,” Pedr said. His face turned red since Aidan had spoken. He seemed passionate about the subject of slavery. Yet, Belch couldn’t help but consider his hypocrisy. Aidan was right. How did he have the right to complain about slavery when she was like one of these slaves herself?

“That’s okay,” Aidan said. “We can come to a similar understanding. It’s wrong; I’ll concede that. One day, the most glorious day anybody on earth will ever be witness to, I’ll end it once and for all. But, as it is, few slaves are complaining if at all.”

Pedr nodded. His eyes were down and away from Aidan’s. He sighed, defeated by words of all things. He stood from his chairs. “May I… be excused for the night?”

“You may,” Aidan said. “Your work starts tomorrow.”

Pedr withdrew from the room, exiting through the same door Aidan entered.

Then, there were two. Belch exchanged eye contact with the Dormoor lord. They locked for a few seconds, awkwardly.

“So,” Aidan said, breaking the silence. “If I understand, you’re cursed by your eyes, right?”

Belch hesitated. Something about Aidan felt… wrong. She suddenly feared him, feeling a vulnerability she couldn’t pinpoint. Nothing about Aidan appeared to be threatening. Belch’s face started to leak what she so desperately wanted to hide. “Green eyes,” Belch paused, thinking about what they taught her since birth. “They… link me to the devil.”

“Oh?” Aidan filled her glass with water for her, slipping it over to her across the table in a long, grinding motion, but the table remained unscratched. “Do you have a name?”

“The beasts call me Belch,” she said.

“I don’t like that name one bit,” Aidan said. “Do you have another?”

“Well,” Belch said. She lifted her hand to her forehead, pushing her long hair out of the way to reveal numbers written in green. “The tamers call me Nine-Thirty-Seven.”

“Such ugly names,” Aidan said. “But don’t fret, child. I got just the solution. From now on, you’re known as Vessel.”

“Vessel?” Belch asked. “What does that mean?”

Aidan ignored her. He reached for her right shoulder, grabbing it. His touch sent shivers down her spine, overwhelming her with goosebumps. Her heart pounded intensely as she wanted desperately to flee and run.

Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here!

What she saw in front of her was nothing she’d ever seen. Aidan was pure predator. She could see it in his cold, dead eyes.

But there was no good reason to believe what her instincts told her. She hadn’t seen anything truly deserving of her anxiety.

Don’t trust him! Belch heard somewhere distant in her mind. Don’t let him manipulate you!

“You know,” Aidan said. He stared with his eyes. “You’ve fought hard to be worthy. But, you were never given a reward for your perseverance and dedication.” Aidan retreated his hand from her shoulder, standing up from his golden chair, then tucked it in himself. He leaned down, bringing his face close to hers, studying her.

Why is he staring at me like this?

“If your green eyes tie you to the devil,” Aidan said. “Then how would you like to have my brown eyes instead?”