"Zoticus, I'm going to the markets today! I don't know how to choose vegetables and meats." I stood outside of his room, waiting patiently for the sound of his footsteps. I smiled when the curtains parted to uncover a bright face. "Good morning, do you know the ways of the market?"

"Of course I do!" Zoticus rocked Lorica as she stirred in his arms. He told me to wait for him while he changes into fresh clothing. "I've been wearing the same tunic for eleven sunrises! Ever since you took me in. Lorica also needs to be fed."

"Yes, go change into comfortable clothing for walking. I will walk today because you said I needed to interact more with others." I push Zoticus back into the cubiculum with my right hand. Then, I closed the curtains after he disappeared into the room. I leaned against a pillar and muttered, "Take your time."

Soon enough, he reappeared, but I did not like what I saw. I scrunched my nose to make known my dissatisfaction.

Zoticus stood with his shoulders drawn in as if he had no confidence left. He did not wear the tunics or togas everyday men would wear. No, he had replaced the old white tunic with a special wool tunic for slaves of military personnel.

I did not pick out those wool clothes. I shook my head, knowing how itchy those tunics were. "No, no, no! I will not allow you to go out onto the streets wearing that atrocious thing. I'll take Lorica, you go back and change."

"No," Zoticus attempted to stand his ground, glaring into my eyes. He shook his head and waved his hands around as he spoke aggressively. "I may not be a true slave in here, but once we go outside, I should act like one. Would you want others to judge you?"

I scoffed at his question. "Why should I care about what others think of me? If I cared about every single opinion, I would have become a pushover. I'm a deviant."

"Marik, you should care about your image. If I tarnish your name, you may lose your high position and you may be accused of being a traitor for going against the norms!" His hands gripped Lorica, but I saw his clenched teeth.

I did not know if he was truly concerned about me, yet his golden eyes pulled me like the moon pulls the tide. He creates these small waves in my stomach. "You've followed me to training camps. All my boys have strange philosophies and none of us were branded as traitors."

"Their views on death, love, gender and sexuality are different from Valesian society, I will acknowledge that." He bit his cheeks and his eyes rolled around in their sockets. He released a short sigh. "However, none of them treat their slaves as you treated me."

"What are you trying to say?" I took a step towards him, determined to get him out of the degrading outfit. My face burned with fury. "Do you want me to treat you like a real slave? Should I treat you how my instincts tell me?"

"No," he squeaked timidly. He must've been intimidated by me even after spending so much time with me. Zoticus continued to rock the baby girl nested in his arms. "What would you do with normal slaves?"

"You mean to ask what would happen if I treated you as a normal slave? I think your rear end would be demolished because Valesians usually engage in sexual acts when frustrated." I see his eyebrows lift off his face. I knew I have shocked him and although I lied, part of it was the truth.

Zoticus seemed to read my face. "You would never do that with me. Aren't you a virgin? I don't believe you will start your sexual journey with someone like me. Valesian men are embarrassed to be homosexual."

"Aren't you a virgin too? There is always a first time for everything and I think I would rather have sex with someone I love than for dominance or satisfaction. I don't believe I will ever love, but if I do, I will be proud of being whoever I am." I held a hand to my mouth, realizing the words tumbled out without stopping. "I should be proud of loving someone."

"Your answer is intriguing," Zoticus mused quietly. He shrugged and transferred the baby into my arms, disappearing through the curtains once again. Following him was a trail of light.

I looked down at the baby in my arms, gasping when her tiny eyes locked with mine. I thought I was going mad because a ghost of a smile played on my lips as I thought about the child's adoptive father. I felt something was amiss.

For the eleven days we have lived together, he had not struck. Well, not with his full strength. We would share interesting stories and our conversations were civilized enough. I loved listening to his soft voice expressing his thought.

Often times, we disagree with each other completely, but he always makes me understand his thoughts. The most impressive part of our talks was that none of us had to clarify our words for the other to understand.

He is always tensed in my presence, yet being around him felt sunny and comforting. His eyes dart around my face as if he was actively planning my murder. He might be, but I will ignore the possibility.

I stare at the still curtains in anticipation. I would like to see Zoticus' style when I let him choose his own clothes. I find it absurd that wearing different clothes defines who we are. If I wear wool clothes, I am itchy, not a slave. Valesians don't think so.

In my arms, Lorica is dressed in tiny clothes I think she would outgrow quickly. I have seen Zoticus sewing small dresses for the baby girl, carefully embroidering the edges of the skirts and sleeves.

Today, he dressed her in a red dress decorated with sewn images of black roses and golden leaves. Her tufts of hair looked hilarious amongst the pretty dress.

I could see that Zoticus paid more attention to the baby than to himself. I wondered if taking care of a child served as a coping mechanism. Or, was he trying to distract himself?

"Marik, I am done. I know you said to wear better clothes so I chose simple cl-" he paused to point at my tunic. His lips moved, yet no words escaped.

I looked down. at my clothes and smiled sheepishly, understanding his concern. I wore a red tunic with golden embroidery. I saw that his tunic colours were the opposite of mine which meant his tunic was yellow while the embroidery was red. My mouth formed a circle.

Lorica grabbed a fistful of my tunic and giggled loudly like she knew our odd situation. She would be laughing at my foolishness when she does understand. The small child had not caused me any problems or headaches for the past days and I thought she believed Zoticus was her mother. Even now, she pried my arms to reach for Zoticus.

I stare with a hanging jaw, barely feeling Lorica leaving my embrace. I raised a hand to my flaming cheeks and I thought I felt feverish. I could not take my eyes off the man holding the baby. I grinned, "Yes, this is what I would like you to wear every day! You look gorgeous."

"You homosexual," Zoticus muttered beneath his breath. His sandals slapped the marble floor as he strode past me to find the kitchens. He returned and on Lorica's small tummy was a light woven basket. I assumed they will be for storing market hauls. Zoticus raised Lorica, "For vegetables and items that fit."

"Are we ready to go?" I asked and he nodded almost immediately. Did he look excited? "Why are you bouncing on your feet like that?"

"I hear Orotica's markets are enchanting. I used to be the assistant cook for the temple so I spent my available time cooking and buying food items. Do you cook?" He was already walking towards the main entrance, there was a bounce in every step he took. He flitted across the white floor as light as a feather.

"Of course I cook, all my boys learn how to roast wild animals from me!" I boasted proudly, puffing my chest out as I sped up my pace to follow him through my house's gates. I deflated when he scoffed at my words of pride.

"Can you cook dishes, not things on spits? Anyone can hold a piece of raw meat over a flame so I did not mean cooking in that way." I knew what he meant, but his words still stung. Zoticus took my silence as a 'no' and he was correct. "Maybe I will cook for you and your boys when the next war is underway."

"You don't have to," I muttered as I kicked a pebble to the walls of a random house. I quickly walked past when the small pebble lodged itself in the wall of bricks, cracks crawling from the rock. "I doubt your food is good enough for my picky boys. Besides, I have been observing your eating habits."

He spun around and our noses brushed for a moment. His eyes burned like the sunlight providing his golden orbs with more strength.

I held up my hand whilst smiling sheepishly. I would admit I have watched him eat during the past eleven days and I know that he is a vegetarian. His eyes also close whenever he eats raw cherry tomatoes. Then, I also know he moans when eating passion fruits. The sourer the fruit, the more enjoyable it is to him.

"I don't watch you because I am a pervert, I was only interested to see what you like. So I know what to present to you and what to avoid." I held up my hand to defend myself, but he ignored me and turned around. I stared after his back, jaws hanging.

I slapped my forehead, cursing myself for caring so much. Why do I have to clarify my intentions to him? Why should I care about what foods he likes or dislikes? I'm a meat lover, I should be giving him lamb, cow or chicken, not greens and fruits.

I walked up behind him and cheekily looped my arm around his shoulders. Beside me, he sighed loudly. I glanced over at Zoticus to see his teeth were grinding against each other. I flashed a smile, "Don't resist me. Not everyone can touch Vales' God of War."

"I doubt anyone would want to touch you. Please, remove yourself from me!" Zoticus' nose scrunched on his face, creating dozens of creases. His tanned face looked like brown papyrus that was crumpled up.

I slowly retrieved my arm, slightly wounded by his harsh tone. I felt like I have committed a sin that even the calmest man I knew would throttle me immediately. I chuckled to myself as we continued down the road.

"Marik, where are you going? The boys asked me yesterday if you will be coming to training." Sebastian was sitting atop his house's walls with a jug of wine in his hands. His sad eyes drooped. "You've been gone for two days."

I rolled my eyes, calling my men high maintenance. I cannot leave them alone for more than a day or they will inquire about my whereabouts. "I will be visiting later. I cannot promise when, but not today. I am going to the market with Zoticus for buying food and items."

"Fine," Sebastian paused to gulp down the rest of his wine. He turned his body and jumped off the wall, running loudly into his house. "Enjoy your time with your slave!"

I hissed after my friend, slightly dissatisfied with his words. I looked up from my toes to see Zoticus staring at me with vacant eyes. He has been passive-aggressive for the past two days and this put me on edge more than seeing my boys harmed on the battlefield. I cannot know what is in his mind tucked under bright hair.

"Sebastian is a normal Valesian, why aren't you like him?" Zoticus walked on, patting Lorica as he went. The baby looked so comfortable leaning on his shoulders. "Out here, treat me like a slave. People are already staring!"

"You care about eyes that I can pluck out? Do not fret, they are only admiring your beauty." I waddled up to his behind and leaned over his free shoulder. My hands gripped his waist, "If you want to be my slave, beg me. I will let the world know you are mine."

Golden eyes stared into mine, full of shame and fear. Zoticus attempted to escape my grasp, but he was also occupied by Lorica. His muscles tensed and he looked like he was praying. I think he should pray for his sanity.

"Turn left, we are almost entering the market of Orotica. In there you will surely be my slave." I steered Zoticus by the waist, grinning behind him. I liked the fact that he felt uncomfortable with my touch. I liked being who I am. "Stop walking, I need to hear these conversations."

Gossipers turned their heads, holding hands to shield their mouth from my eyes. Unfortunately for them, I have overactive ears. I can hear their secret conversations about me and the man in my grip. Valesians are interesting people I do not interact with by my own will.

"Look, isn't that Marik Valerius and his bed slave? I did not know the General of Vales' Elite Army is a male lover." A young woman said near the entrance of the market.

"Oh, I don't think they are lovers. Look how stiff the slave is in Marik's hands. Marik may love men, but they do not look good together. They are not meant for each other." A melon seller leaned over his stall to stroke his grey beard.

"Of course they aren't! How can a master and slave love each other?" A young boy kicked a rotten melon away from his sandal-clad feet.

"Marik," Zoticus called to me amongst the loud chatter of the market. "You like meat, does this market have butchers? What about spices or herbs for the kitchen?"

I did not know we have already walked through the large archway marking the entrance of the large market. I glanced down rows of stalls and wagons, then I looked at a gigantic fountain. I barely registered Zoticus' many questions.

Wagons overflowed with fruits and vegetables, baskets of colourful spices were lined up in front of stalls, and jewellery glittered under the sunlight. Merchants called out to potential customers, actively answering questions and promoting their products. Buyers stick their hands into bags and pockets as they bartered for lower prices.

Chickens clucked in wooden cages, dogs roamed the paths and cows were pulled along by ropes. Mules and horses clomped past me, pulling carts to restock certain stalls. Auctions for the finest birds, snakes, rabbits and cats took place around the spouting fountain.

I spin around with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the colours flashing before my eyes. Dozens of sounds and voices rang in my ear. It has been years since the last time I've come here and I have become a stranger to everyday life. Do I have to be pushed by others just to but a stalk of wheat?

"Are you nervous or confused?" Zoticus pulled at my right hand, holding Lorica in with one arm. He is stronger than he looks, especially when his muscles clench under the baby's weight. "Master, do not worry, I am here to guide you. Here, take Lorica and I'll show you how to survive the bazaar."

I gasped when the baby was thrust into my arms and before I could react, Zoticus was already headed towards a specific shop. I felt my heart pound for multiple reasons. The place was crowded and full of chaos, but that was not so important.

The butcher manning the shop only sold the finest birds of Orotica. His satisfied customers rush away from the shop holding the legs of chickens, roosters, quails, hawks and other birds I cannot recognize. I loved birds and it seems Zoticus knew the fact.

I squealed when a woman stepped on Zoticus' feet while he peacefully approached the butcher. I was tempted to step into the crowd to pull my companion out of the fray, but he glared at the woman before shoving her into a pudgy man's back. I laughed under my palm, wondering why I was worried about him.

Amongst flailing limbs, Zoticus waded through the crowd. He swiftly dodged grabbing hands and flying spit. He looked natural walking through total chaos. Nothing seemed to bother him and he was never stopped from advancing. He used his arms to split people.

Now, foreigners may be wondering why Valesians do not wait in an organized line or use the rule of first come, first serve. That would never work with people eager to be satisfied and people who barely have time. Fighting for everything is a tiring way of life, but it is our way.

"Marik Valerius has a child? She looks very young." An elderly woman whispered to her daughter. She saw my gaze had turned to her and her guilty eyes lowered. "Warriors should not be fathers."

I clenched my fists on Lorica's back, ready to pounce on the old woman hanging by her daughter's arm. I clutch Lorica tightly and spin to face the women, eyes twitching violently. This indicates my great desire for bloodshed.

"Why can't warriors be fathers? Are we not capable of loving? Do we not deserve some happiness in our lives after serving ungrateful bastards like you?" I felt my eyes prick when Lorica started to wail in my arms. I didn't know what to do.

Instead of focusing on the baby, I glared at the old woman. I must deal with her first so that my mind is cleared for poor Lorica. "I dare you to say soldiers do not deserve to be fathers. Say it, you hag!"

"Marik, don't cause trouble for us. My mother was only stating the truth that is on our minds." The old woman's daughter stroked her dark hair, batting her eyelids at me. She puckered her lips and begged me to let her mother off this time.

"Stop trying to be cute, I do not find you pretty enough to change my decision." I slowly approach them, summoning my sword into my hands like a magnet would attract certain metals. I raised the weapon above them and sliced the air near their ears. "Get on your knees and beg for mercy!"

"Please, my mother has weak kn-" The woman saw my face and gulped. Her eyes burned out of humiliation. She knew others were watching.

I put a hand on my waist, "I do not care whether your mother has weak knees or knuckles, will you kneel or not?"

My raised voice was powerful enough to stop all activities in the market. Dogs held a paw in the air, chickens clucked quietly, merchants pretended to be blind and buyers feigned deafness. Of course, none of them would want to be involved.

Zoticus escaped from the large crowd near the butcher, hugging the basket to his chest. He had used the money my boys gave him to buy three pheasants and a dozen chicken hearts. He stared at me with his bright eyes, fixated on my blade.

He gasped, "Marik, what are you doing? I bought your favourite bird!"

"Thank you for that, and I was planning to teach these women a lesson. It seems that people really think you can be foul-mouthed when age is behind their backs." I lifted my sword, pointing it at the old woman's throat.

I raised an eyebrow when the daughter stepped in between us. "Would you like to die? I don't believe in children paying for their parents' actions, but I would never appreciate rudeness. Because Zoticus is here, I will be merciful. He will decide your fates."

Zoticus looked like he was about to drop the basket. That would not make me happy. For a long while, he stood with open jaws. "What do you mean I decide their fates? Isn't it obvious to let them go? The ones who know nothing speak the most."

"You bastard, are you looking down on us?" The daughter thrust her chest out, providing more chances for my sword to pierce flesh. "You're only a slave for Marik Valerius!"

I hissed and raised the weapon to touch her cheek. Behind me, Zoticus placed the basket on the ground and I hear his footsteps approach me. Soon enough, I see a tan hand grip my alabaster arm. Must I lower my sword?

"You are too merciful," I muttered beneath my breath. I was not amused by his decision, but I did say he will decide. I don't go against my sacred words. "Alright, run along and think before you speak next time. If I was alone today, you two would have experienced my precious blade."