XXXV
James was struggling to come up with an answer and the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.
He wouldn't cut Alex's face nor neck off, but as he went down the list of body parts, he quickly ran out of options.
He wouldn't cut off his arms or hands because they were also attractive and Alex used them to carry a sword— another sexy display.
Whilst he didn't care much for Alex's legs, he needed those to fight as well.
He supposed he could take some fingers or toes, but then, what would be the point?
He shivered uncomfortably, Alex was dangerously immune to James' bloodthirst. He would have to hope Alex never did anything worth injury because James sincerely wouldn't know which part of him to harm. He didn't want to hurt him.
His chest and stomach tightened uneasily at the thought.
Shooting a glare Alex's way, he cursed the man in his head. Alex didn't see this, he was busy keeping an eye out as they neared the smoke's origin.
The trees dropped away as they progressed, the land opened up and shallow hills creased down the landscape as they viewed it from the path.
Fields of underdeveloped leafy vegetables covered the exposed soil, kale, cabbages, and spinach were growing in messy but organised lines.
The smoke trailed down, touching the ground near some wooden huts on the other side, a dozen slaves huddled around and cooking their lunch in the embers whilst a few tended the fields.
James looked around but didn't see any pale Khearian people, only the brown slaves. He was surprised they were being left unsupervised.
Their expedition halted, their horses still. Quickly, the slaves began to notice the interest in them and the unease was palpable. Some of the much younger teenagers were ushered into the huts, whilst the adults remained outside.
Riley was the first to get off his horse, handing the reins to Thomas to stop the animal from wandering.
Although James couldn't hear what they were saying, the slaves began calling back and forth among each other, until two of the adult men who had been working the fields cautiously approached their expedition.
They came up near the path, but didn't stray from the field's boundaries, prompting Riley to walk further down.
"We're lost," Riley told them, "where are we?"
The two slaves looked at each other nervously, before responding too quietly for James to hear. Riley scratched his head as they talked to him, glancing back at the expedition in confusion.
After another moment, Riley gestured for the men to stay where they were and walked back towards the path.
"They're speaking a language I don't understand," Riley said, then grimaced, "I don't think they understand me either."
"Me and James can try," Fletcher offered, "we both know a few languages, we could figure it out between us."
James was a little annoyed to be dragged into it but accepted his fate anyway. Fletcher was right; if not him, then James would probably understand.
Alex nodded. "Good idea."
Fletcher disembarked with help from Thomas whilst James jumped off on his own, stretching out his sore cramped muscles. It felt good to be standing on solid ground and have his legs straight.
Thomas held all four of the horses on his own, so Alex got down to help him, taking a couple to hold himself and splitting the work.
James and Fletcher approached the slaves slowly, knowing their presence may be threatening.
"Ashadi?" James enquired to the men, changing language.
The men nodded and then said something that sounded like complete gibberish. James blinked slowly.
Fletcher attempted to say something in a different Ashadi dialect but didn't seem to understand their response.
As the slaves spoke, James kept catching the odd Ashadi word, as well as Khearian and even Talumni words.
Fletcher appeared perplexed but it was becoming increasingly obvious to James what the problem was.
"Shit," he said.
"This is... weird," Fletcher murmured. "What am I even hearing, right now?"
James sighed, running an aggressive hand through his hair. He looked back at the expedition and shook his head.
"It's a creole language," he announced, raising his voice so it carried.
"A... creole?" Riley echoed, tilting his head.
Thomas groaned loudly, understanding the problem immediately, just as James would have thought he would. Thomas was familiar with his own family's slaves, so he would know the language barrier that they were facing.
"What do you mean, a creole?" Fletcher asked, looking between the field and Thomas.
James looked up at the sky, calming his frustration before answering.
"All Ashadi slaves were banned from speaking their own language after they were captured as prisoners of war," James explained to him. "Doing so meant execution. So, over a few generations they've ended up mixing multiple languages together in order to communicate."
Fletcher frowned. "Okay, but we should still be able to understand them."
"No." James grunted, shaking his head. "Think about it. The first generation of slaves would have had hardly any idea how to speak Khearian or any other language. So, the words are all being misused and have different meanings than the real stuff. It's a mutt bastard of a language."
"Wait, you said executed?" Fletcher spluttered in horror.
James winced. "Different laws back then. They have more rights now, but they can still be legally killed during the Kalou week each year. Some owners still enforce it, some don't. It's too late though. Even if their owners don't mind, they've lost their language regardless."
He stared at the men for a moment, being careful not to glare at them, and then looked down at the nervous group by the huts. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Many slaves can speak Khearian but I reckon none of these guys can," he went on, "otherwise they would've sent that person to talk to us."
It was now obvious why no one was supervising them. Even if these slaves tried to escape, they wouldn't be able to survive, not if they couldn't understand any basic language except their messy creole.
Alex approached them then, his jaw tense.
The two slaves saw him coming, Alex's skin colour had finally registered in their minds, and their eyes widened with excitement.
One jumped and then waved his arms to the men near the huts, shouting enthusiastically, pointing at Alex.
All cautiousness melted away, replaced with smiles.
Alex came up next to James and murmured in his ear. "There's no way for you to talk to them?"
James had to repress the shiver that Alex's warm breath on his ear did to him. He could jokingly flirt with the man in front of the others, but he couldn't show genuine interest.
Taking a calming breath, James shook his head apologetically.
"Khearian, Ashadi, they don't understand any of it. I can't speak their creole at all." No one could.
Alex stared at the ground for a moment, tense, his eyes creased, almost pained. The two slaves tried to tentatively talk to him, speaking slowly.
Alex forced a smile and then deflated in defeat.
James stared in shock as Alex began to fluently converse back with them, the words flowing without hesitation or thought. The two slaves grinned and crossed the field's perimeter and onto the grass, gathering closer to Alex.
The action caused Riley to flinch and he grabbed his weapon but didn't draw it. Thankfully, the two slaves hadn't seen it and continued ranting, often interrupting each other.
James looked around at his travel mates' reactions.
Riley's face was a careful blank, like James' own.
Thomas stared at Alex, stunned, like he couldn't accept what he was seeing.
Fletcher seemed surprised but didn't seem to understand the implication of what was happening.
It was a conclusion that was clearly dawning on Thomas, the man had gone deathly pale.
Alex chuckled at something one of the slaves had said, rubbing the back of his neck in clear discomfort. One began to walk back to the huts and Alex held a hand out.
"No, no, no, no," he said in a panic.
If there were any Khearian words slaves knew, it was yes and no.
The slave waved him off and bounded back to his group whilst the other kept talking. James watched as Alex began to nudge the slave back onto the field and within his perimeter, only relaxing once the man was no longer crossing the invisible boundary.
The other slave came back with a handwoven basket in hand, with what appeared to be lots of leafy vegetables, James guessed kale. They tried to give it to Alex, who was clearly declining, appearing worried. The slave then passed it to Fletcher, who took it automatically, unsure what was happening.
James glanced back at Thomas then and their eyes met, his wide and disturbed. James slowly and silently shook his head, swearing Thomas to remain silent.
Thomas would know better than any other noble. His family likely communicated with their slaves frequently. Yet, Thomas didn't speak the slave's creole. No nobles did, nor commoners. No one.
Only slaves spoke it.
Thomas looked away and turned around, distracting himself with the horses.
James had no idea what Riley was thinking. Royalty didn't engage in slavery, since it was considered too filthy for them, but he was distant blood, so he might've done. James wasn't sure.
"Tell them I say thank you," Fletcher said to Alex, smiling at the gift.
As intelligent as Fletcher was, he was born a commoner. His family wouldn't have owned any slaves so he wouldn't understand. He might innocently dig into the topic which would put Alex on the spot.
James dragged Fletcher by the collar of his shirt back towards the horses, giving Alex some privacy.
"James, what are you doing?" Fletcher complained, not having any other option but to allow himself to be manhandled.
"We should get on our horses." James said, nudging Fletcher towards Thomas to give him something to do. Fletcher couldn't get on a horse on his own.
Fletcher frowned. "I was interested in the creole, though. It's amazing that they could develop their own language so quickly. Maybe I should research it, get Alex to help me."
James flinched at the suggestion. "No, don't ask him to do that."
"Huh? Why?"
James glanced at Thomas, but it was clear the other man didn't have an excuse to supply.
"Because it's taboo for nobles to know it," James said, "it's considered filthy. We shouldn't bring it up again. He could get in trouble."
Thomas nodded in agreement and Fletcher gave in with a sigh.
James gave Fletcher's shoulder an encouraging pat, being careful that he didn't hit the weaker man too hard. "Don't feel too down about it, though. It's not a complete language, it's very very basic. It's not as big a deal as you're thinking."
They mounted their horses again, even Riley had followed in kind without being asked. Alex came up to them a few minutes later.
"We're actually on track," he announced. "They said that their master has been trying to widen the path, so they've removed the stone markers for the time being."
"So we're not delayed at all?" Fletcher asked.
"Not at all. I'd say we're ahead of schedule, if anything."
Even if Alex was acting natural, James could see the tension hidden under the surface. He wasn't surprised Alex wanted to pretend this never happened. It was a horrific revelation, one that could put his life in danger.
James still couldn't quite wrap his head around it, though.
Alex had most certainly been adopted by the duke but slaves legally couldn't be added to any family registers.
The slave class were imposed to be the slave class permanently, with no opportunity for social mobility.
Either the duke had knowingly adopted a slave child, or Alex had tricked him into believing he wasn't. Either way, the legal responsibility fell on Alex's shoulders and not the duke's.
The duke could pretend to be ignorant and claim he was tricked.
Perhaps that was why Alex was so obedient, the duke could very easily blackmail him with this fact.
Alex could be put to death if anyone ever found out.
They got moving again, the slaves waving as they went. Fletcher happily waved back, holding up the basket they had given him.
"Hey, how come you know their creole?" Fletcher later asked, manoeuvring his horse to come beside Alex's with difficulty.
"My family has a lot." Alex answered plainly.
Fletcher tilted his head in thought, then turned around to look at Thomas.
"Oh, but... you can't, Thomas?"
James glared at Thomas, unbeknownst to anyone else, and the man nodded uneasily.
"It's taboo," he muttered.
It wasn't entirely a lie.
"I never would have thought there would be a man who could speak both that disgusting creole and the royal language," Riley laughed. "I bet centuries of dead kings are rolling in their graves right now."
"Want to join them?" James asked, innocently. "Plus, I'm sure the living royals are too busy genociding red-eyed people to give a shit."
"Expel the demon in your soul and you won't have to worry about that, James." Riley shot back.
James was convinced now; Riley didn't believe in demons, he simply portrayed himself as a person who did. The reason he felt so fake was because he was. The only kind of people who pretend to be someone else are those who have something to hide, using a cloak. James would know.
He wondered what Riley was hiding.
Fletcher made an annoyed growling noise. "Demons don't exist!" he exclaimed.
James fought to keep his face straight, despite the threat of laughter that wanted to bubble up. It seemed like Riley was about to be the recipient of another theological lecture.
As if realising his mistake, Riley's face fell, distraught.
"There's no scripture— no scripture! Nothing, that said anything about demons. Ever. It's an entirely modern concern and the Adeian temple had no right to claim otherwise!"
James zoned Fletcher out and stared at Alex's back, considering the man differently. Of course James had explored the possibility that Alex had been born a slave in his head before but he'd always doubted it. Now, though, it was undeniable truth.
Thomas and Riley were dangerous. Thomas relayed everything back to the duke and it could cause real problems if it was revealed Alex did what he did, the duke would feel threatened by the knowledge spreading.
Riley, on the other hand, James couldn't get a read on him. If necessary, he would kill Riley whilst they all slept and stage it like an animal attack. Otherwise, he would have to find out what Riley was hiding and swear each other to secrecy, under the threat of mutual destruction.
James knew Alex well enough to know he was scheming right now, in that pretty head of his. There's no way Alex would allow this development to unfold without interference, it was a matter of life and death. Alex didn't give up like that, he was a paranoid man.
James slowly grinned. The pressure of life and death, that was exactly what he wanted Alex to experience. Now, it was happening for real.
The situation could be more beneficial than he thought. He just needed to play his cards right.