“Are you sure you're up for this your highness?” Vayuhn asked half mockingly and half seriously. We could push it off another week. I already have my quota.”

  “Again, I’m fine. It barely hurts anymore,” Harper lied. “And I told you to stop calling me that. My parents are counts; I’m as far from royalty as you are.”

  Vayuhn raised his brow at this, gesturing to himself. It perfectly conveyed, “really, me?” without him having to say so.

  “Fine, maybe not,” Harper amended. “But I’m so far down in line for the throne that I’ve never bothered to find out the exact number.”

  Harper was glad to find that Vayuhn took the news that she was a noble from Magnon unfazed. If anything, he was more irreverent than before, teasing her supposed ‘high and mighty’ status.

  The newer development, treating her as if she was made from glass, was irritating. Getting sympathy for pain from a slave that was punished severely when he fell short felt wrong. She should be stronger than this. She should have been back hunting a couple of weeks ago.

  Today they were hunting on the north side. The area was sparser; it was closer to grasslands than forest. Vayuhn had spotted a small herd of bison a few days prior. Judging by their size, there were at least a few single Domain bison in the herd.

  Several hours later, they managed to track down the bovines. There were five of them, and sure enough, three were unusually large. They found a spot with enough brush to conceal them and hid, waiting for one to separate from the group.

  An hour later, their patience was rewarded. One of the Domain bison began straying from the group. Half an hour later, it had strayed enough that Harper and Vayuhn deemed it safe enough to begin.

  They crept within bow range and readied their arrows. Harper had gotten better, she still wasn’t nearly up to Vayuhn’s standard, but she hit more arrows than she missed. At a close enough range anyways.

  Their initial volley was a success, she scoring two arrows and him three, one in an especially vital spot in the bison’s neck. They did not immediately chase after, watching to see what would happen.

  Predictably, the bison bellowed in pain, making for the herd. The herd had frozen, watching their wayward member come running back. After a few seconds, they followed the injured beast’s example and ran in the opposite direction. Harper and Vayuhn followed.

  Hunting bison, specifically Domain bison, was tricky. If they saw you and decided that you weren’t too intimidating, you would become the hunted, or rather, the charged. Facing down a small herd of angry bison was beyond their capabilities, but attacking one from afar and slowly draining its energy was well within possibility. Waiting for one to separate was just a precaution. They wanted to be as far from the herd as possible in the unlikely event that they were spotted.

  Their hunt took a great portion of the day. Whenever the herd slowed, the hunters repeated their earlier feat. Fortunately, they were never spotted. Unfortunately, it was taking longer than expected. This bison in particular seemed very resilient. About six hours in, the herd abandoned the doomed beast. It just couldn’t keep up anymore.

  “This is it,” Harper panted, watching the bison run away. The bovine was clearly running on fumes. She was surprised it hadn’t dropped dead yet. They still had to skin the beast and make the trek back. Hopefully they would make it back before it got dark.

  Vayuhn didn’t reply. Instead, he looked troubled. Wordlessly, he followed after the bison. Still, out of breath, Harper trudged along behind him. Only minutes later, they found the beast on the ground in its dying throes. Arrows decorated its torso.

  They put it out of its misery and got to work. The bulk of the animal went into their aetherspaces. It was too large to fit everything though. Some they would carry back manually, and more than Harper was happy with would have to be left behind.

  Vayuhn occasionally paused and looked to the tree line. His expression revealed nothing more, and Harper’s inquiries were brushed off. Ignoring his odd behavior, she continued her work.

  Halfway through, a sudden sound interrupted them. Crack! A few seconds later it came again. Crack! It was a distant, but distinct sound. She turned towards Vayuhn, beginning to form a question, when she noticed his reaction. He flinched at every Crack!

  It’s a whip, she realized. There must be a plantation around here. They continued skinning the corpse. The sound only stopped after a painful five minutes. What did they do to deserve that?” she wondered. It sounded like around thirty whips. That was excessive for all but the most terrible of crimes.

  They worked in silence. Harper wanted to question Vayuhn; it was clear he knew about the plantation, but she knew that then was not the time. After gathering all that they would get, he turned towards her. “I’ll be right back.”

  Without another word, he headed to where the sound had come from. Having nothing else to do, and overcome by morbid curiosity, she followed.

  As they got closer, voices became audible. As did groans of pain. Harper caught up to Vayuhn. He was watching from the tree line, into an artificial clearing. Fields spread out before them, and in the distance, buildings.

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  There were several mills, barns, housing units, and placed on a hill, a manor. She wasn’t sure who owned this plantation, but they seemed to be doing well for themselves. The fields were vast and the buildings in good condition. There were new constructions going up. Around a hundred slaves worked the fields, and a few overseers patrolled, making sure the labuntans worked efficiently.

  The groans of pain came from the middle of the fields. A flogging post had been erected, and a slave was being unshackled and led back to the buildings. Harper could see the blood coating his back. Another slave was helping him walk, while an overseer behind them pushed them forward.

  Harper was amazed that he was even upright. It reminded her of the bison they had just killed. She felt some regret at how they had slain the beast. Unfortunately, there was no other safe way. It was a cruelty, but a necessary one.

  That did not seem to be the case here. If she had to guess, the slave would probably die of his wounds unless given extensive medical care, something she didn’t see happening for something the owners had done in the first place. More than likely it was done as an example, to discourage whatever behavior the slave had partaken in.

  Harper found it disdainful. Her family owned slaves, both for working the farms and as servants and maids. She had rarely seen them flogged, and never to such a degree. If the crime was too great to need more than one or two lashings, they were either sold or executed.

  Nor did they treat the innocent slaves so poorly. From what Harper could see, these labuntans were half-starved. Fed just enough that they could work another day. It was a poor owner who took such little care of their property. Harper had a half a mind to march in and scold the owners, or more realistically appeal to the Governor to do so. While what they were doing wasn’t exactly illegal, it was considered poor form in her more civilized homeland.

  Harper looked over at Vayuhn, expecting to see a look of horror or anger. Instead, an air of melancholy surrounded him. He looked defeated, as if it was him being dragged away from that stand with blood dripping off of him.

  He began speaking, almost more to himself than Harper. “That would have been my fate if I wasn’t so talented in the Domain of Sky,” he said, gesturing to the working slaves. "Me and my brother.”

  He jerked his head towards the recently whipped slave. “More than likely I would have eventually ended up like that poor sod. Maybe I still will. I can’t seem to obey my master enough for his liking.” His use of the word master was once again steeped in bitterness.

  Harper had nothing to say. It was an unfortunate reality that many would be born into and live their lives in slavery. Just as it was a reality that many would die young, or live with debilitating conditions. It would be easy for her to condemn the practice, to believe that if she were in charge, things would be different.

  She didn’t believe that though. If she were to become the head of her house, she knew that she wouldn’t free their slaves. There were plenty of justifications for this. They’d be treated better with her than elsewhere. A freed slave was a target, she was keeping them protected. They would enjoy simple and peaceful lives. But they were just that. Justifications.

  Even if she were to somehow become the queen of Quilen, she doubted that would change. Sure, she might implement laws improving slaves’ quality of lives. An option for all slaves to be able to work towards their own freedom could be enforced. Some had such systems now, but they were rarely reasonably achievable.

  She did not know if she could do away with it completely. Their economy depended on them. Freeing slaves could see the collapse of Quilen, and all of their closest allies. The truth of the matter was, she cared more for her country and position than any high-minded principles.

  Harper hesitated for a moment, then nudged Vayuhn’s arm. “Come on. It’s time we go back; we have a lot of ground to cover.”

  He stared at the injured slave for a moment more, who was just getting to one of the buildings, and nodded his head. They collected their burdens and began their trip back. Neither spoke very much.

  They arrived only a little before dark. Vayuhn went in first. His master became displeased when he got back too late. Hunting or not, his curfew was strictly enforced, Harper circled around to another gate and waited a while before going in. It was unlikely their appearances would be connected, but better safe than sorry.

  At this point the sun had barely set, and workers began lighting street lamps. Harper walked through the streets, in no rush to get back. She was well familiar with the layout of the city by this point, and would have no trouble navigating home.

  She paused at the turn that would take her there. The Governor should still be in his office. She could do this, at least. Harper inspected her appearance. Dried blood marred the front of her clothes, and dust coated her legs. She grimaced.

  It will be fine, she decided. The Governor didn’t seem the type to care about a little grime. Finding the building still open, if emptier than usual, she strolled in. The secretary eyed her appearance with disapproval but made no move to stop her.

  She found the right room and greeted the Governor’s assistant, requesting to meet with the man. After checking to make sure it was fine, she was let in.

  She was greeted with a stern look. “Good evening, Miss Harper. I hope this is not about being reassigned again. My decision was final.” Then he noticed her attire and raised an eyebrow.

  Harper shook her head. “No, this is another matter. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. It’s a bit of a tale, is it okay if I sit down?” At his nod she sat down and recounted her day, edited of course. She mentioned no hunting partner, and claimed to have hunted a small boar, rather than a bison. Harper felt it a relatively secure lie. She’d hand off her carried materials to be sold by Vayuhn to be safe.

  The Governor showed light disapproval at her hunting alone, especially only weeks after the incident, but as she hoped, he was more distracted by the plantation conditions.

  Once she told him of the poor treatment of the slaves and the excessive whipping, the Governor sighed heavily. “I am already aware of the issue. The owner had been a thorn in my side for a while. Unfortunately, I cannot do anything for them. The man who owns them is a veteran from northern Magnon. He has powerful friends on the continent, and is personally powerful. I have little to no influence over him.”

  Disappointment washed through Harper. “I understand. What’s his name?”

  “Alric Henton... Is something wrong?”

  Harper’s blood ran cold. “It’s nothing. Thank you for your time.”

  The Governor frowned, but said nothing. “Very well, you may go.”

  Harper promptly left and began the walk home. Harper had only heard the name a few times before. If she had ever met him, it was young enough that she didn’t remember. But one did not easily forget the name of their banished uncle.