The General

I run my rounds for the day. Cleaning the kitchen took longer than usual because, apparently, the cooks were running meal experiments. The walls got splattered with a thick batter. My stomach grumbles as I wipe the food up with my washcloth and throw it in a bucket.

I'm starving, but can't eat until I finish my shift. The Headmistress calls that rule "motivation."

Sometimes, when I get sick of the rules and feel like being a daredevil, I sneak a bite. I rue the day I get caught because the Headmistress will blow a gasket.

I sneak a cup of water to calm my raging stomach. The water feels so refreshing falling down my chest that I close my eyes and sigh.

"Joan!"

I sputter and choke.

I turn so fast that my braid whips in the air. Tantri, my boss, is here.

"You know you cannot be eating now. Don't be lazy, girl!"

"I wasn't eating." I shake my head vigorously and step back. He is known for violence, and I just woke up and have no interest in being slapped back into sleep.

"Yes, you were!"

"I was only drinking."

"I'll be the judge of that." He stomps toward me and yanks my braid, dragging me to my knees. He shoves two salty fingers down my throat, and I choke before throwing up.

Water and liquid from what little I had for dinner splashes on the ground.

"Good," he says as he analyzes my small pool of vomit. "Clean this mess up. And no more drinking."

I cry for three minutes. In those one hundred and eighty Earth seconds, I list one hundred and eighty reasons why I hate my position. But then I get up because adding tears to my pool of vomit won't put food in my belly. I need to work to get paid.

I finish in the kitchen, and then I go to replenish the well. My arms scream as I carry the bucket from the lake and step over the rocky terrain. While this is a good exercise for my arms, it's terrible for my gritted teeth.

After two more trips, I go to my tent to retrieve the polish for the shoes I have to clean up. I freeze in my tracks when I enter it and find everything in disarray. The bed is tossed, my drawers pulled out, and my crates empty.

Is this the work of an angry Entertainer?

I feel anger, but more so at my helplessness because I know I won't be able to do anything about this. I can't mess with the Entertainers.

After sorting through my things and organizing everything, I feel relieved when I realize the dress I fixed is gone. This wasn't an act of malice. The Entertainer was only looking for her dress. I got lucky today.

A bell rings outside.

"Girls, gather. There is a meeting!" the Headmistress yells.

I groan. Feeling exhausted after working and surviving Tantri's cruelty. I just want to rest.

Another gathering?

I wipe at a stain on my knee-length dress and step outside. The Entertainers are already gathering and forming straight lines, looking pretty in their dresses and gold makeup. One is busy between two tents, bent over and getting fucked by a Master.

I stand in the last row and listen to the Headmistress.

"It has come to my attention that some of you have broken the rules I clearly outlined. This is unacceptable. I don't play favorites, no matter how pretty you are or how well you satisfy the Masters."

My heart sinks. I'm about to get fired because I broke two rules by crashing into The General and peering into his mysterious blue eyes. I dug a deeper grave by rejecting and avoiding him. Men like him must have egos proportionate to their cocks.

"Yves and Olaris, you're both dismissed from camp. I'm very disappointed in both of you."

She lists two more names, but my heart pounds louder with every second, and I hear less and less.

"Finally, Joan."

My stomach grips tighter with the phantom, the endless taste of starvation. My lips prune with dehydration. My body remembers those days of poverty all too well.

"You are reassigned to schedule C."

My shoulders sag. I've survived.

"Now, I want to remind you all of some things—Oh, General."

I hear no reply, but I do hear footsteps coming closer. Or is that my heartbeat that is still chasing death?

The General stalks me. I recognize his pants. They're well-worn, like the rest of his clothes, just like his ripe, scarred body.

My eyes remain on the ground. I won't make the same mistake of looking up into his blue eyes.

"You," that grave tone calls. Monotone like the Master's, and yet there's something unique about it.

Is he really doing this now? In the middle of this enormous crowd? This is social suicide for me!

"Look up."

Small gasps flutter because the General is asking me to break one of the rules. I'm torn between him and The Headmistress's command, but I know who to obey deep down. I know who the true Master is.

"Not you," The General growls when the Entertainer next to me dares to glance up.

"Joan."

Oh, Gods old and new of Earth and Zolan. Kill me and take me now.

The General said my name. He doesn't say it perfectly because it's an Earth name and comes out accented, but it's unmistakable. I'm under his scrutiny, under his shadow as he stands before me, on his tongue as he tastes my name.

"Joan, obey!" The Headmistress snaps. She's telling me to break her own rules to satisfy the boss.

My neck throws back, and I look into the seas of The General.

He's handsome.

He's cold.

He's the reason I'll drown.

"You will meet my eyes every time from now on."

I don't reply. My mouth is so dry that I've never felt this thirsty before. I thought I knew dehydration, but I guess I was wrong.

"Do you understand?"

He's intimidating. Instinct has me looking down again.

"No," he commands.

The word is so firm that it punches my head back up.

"Do you understand?" he repeats.

"Yes," I whisper.

He's gone with that, and the camp becomes a cemetery. The Entertainers are too shocked to even look at me.

"Ahem, well, you're all dismissed," the Headmistress says, seemingly so shaken by what she saw that she forgot she had more topics to cover.

I return to my tent for some hours. I clean to distract myself, then walk around the camp to finish my duties. I've kept my head so low that my neck began to cramp. I've heard fast whispers all day. Nothing good is being said.

On my way home, I see The General again. I know he's standing nearby.

I remember his command, and although my instinct wants me to ignore it, I know I have to obey. I look up and find that he's already pinning me down.

This is wrong. This is so, so inappropriate. We're told to not hold their gaze for a reason. It sets them off. I shouldn't be doing this.

I break eye contact first and walk away with my spine straighter than ever because I know he's still looking.