"Negative profession."
"Kill him."
"A stain to our perfect society."
The voices came all around him.
Giant fingers pointing at him.
He looked up to see the enlarged faces of his mother, David, Leopold, Linda.
But the largest and most heartbreaking—the king.
"Kill him!!!"
...
Xander’s eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw was the pressed metal ceiling, which was worn out, having holes here and there.
Then the light from the opened window hit his face, and he remembered.
Everything.
Xander rushed to his feet, pushing aside the leather blanket over his body.
But then he froze.
Before him, at the end of the 11x16 cubic feet room was a boy.
Brown hair, short, not malnourished, but not well fed either.
He wore a long shirt obviously meant for an adult—it covered most of him.
At most, he was maybe 9 or 10.
His black large eyes were filled with curiosity.
Xander did not move. And neither did the boy.
Then he did. A step closer. His little nose twitched.
He frowned, "Eww... you stink." Then the boy turned, bolting out of the room.
Xander was at a loss for words.
But considering that he had been tumbling in the incinerator, the stench that came from his body was unstandable.
Carefully, and cautiously, he rose from the bed.
The first thing he noticed was that most items in this room were made of iron.
The Drawers, table, and even the bed.
Xander opened the wooden door, and stepped out.
The evening sun in all its left over glory hit him.
The sound of goats bleating came from the distance.
"There’s water in the well." An aged voice reached him. "Use it to wash the stench off you."
Xander turned.
Alarmed.
It was an elderly man.
Huge muscular frame—the kind one only achieved from a lifetime of hard labor.
He looked around the same age as his father, Jobadiah had been.
However his white beards were cut short. The lines on his face were not the kind that came from laughter or worry.
They were the kind carved slowly by a man who had looked the world dead in the eye, decided it wasn’t worth arguing with, and went back to his farm.
He was pulling a huge plough across the field with one hand.
’Is he that strong?’ Xander thought. But then his eyes were pulled to the empty sleeve of the right hand.
Xander paused—staring.
"What are you waiting for? You making the whole place stink!" The old man screamed at him.
Xander snapped out of his head. He turned to the well not far from him.
They was a small wooden bucket attached by its handle to a long rope.
Xander threw the bucket into the well, and fetched water into another metal bucket at the side.
When he was done, he saw the boy staring at him again from the side of the main cottage.
The boy pointed to a small room. This one had no roof, only obstructed from outside eyes by a tin frames as high as Xander’s shoulders.
It was the bath house.
Xander was not one that was high on trust, but he did understand that if this people wanted to kill him, then they would have not bothered with giving him a bath.
He removed what was left of his dirty torn clothes, and rushed into the bathhouse.
In total, there were a total of four separate structures.
The main cottage, the bathhouse, the farm house that housed the goats and farm equipments, and another small building with a chimney in it.
Xander noted that the place was simple. Isolated.
Xander had barely spent a few minutes washing up when fresh clothes were slung over the door.
"Hurry up. It’s already time for dinner." The old man advised.
When Xander was done, he wore the clothes.
From the size and smell, it no doubt belonged to the old man.
Still, such kindness.
Xander was grateful.
The sweet smell of milk and bread pulled him in the direction of the dinning area.
By now, the sun had fully settled in the west.
Xander entered staring at the table.
The room was made bright with lanterns, hung high at the edges of the small room.
The little boy set the table with the plate and spoon, while the old man poured the milk into the plates.
"I am sorry we don’t have much to offer." He said without looking up. "I don’t have a profession for farming, and my grandson is not old enough to get us one. But we do manage."
He dropped the bowl of milk and offered Xander a seat.
Xander paused for a bit.
"Don’t worry, we don’t discriminate profession in this house."
"My sister was a negative profession." The boy spoke up, looking up at Xander. "Baron Bones killed her."
He looked away, eyes becoming sad.
The room became awkwardly silent.
"Yes, let’s not talk about that, Levi. What did I tell you?" The old man asked.
"She is in a better place." Levi echoed as he took his seat at the table.
The atmosphere was still awkward, but the old man took his seat, and Xander followed after him.
"Go on, have some bread." The man offered with a smile.
Xander swallowed hard. The only reason he had not dove on the food the moment he entered was because of the little manners his late father had instilled in him.
But if the old man was giving permission, then why not?
He reached for the sliced bread across the table.
He stuffed it in his mouth, while rushing to drink the milk.
It was warm, rich, most likely fresh from the source.
As he ate, he suddenly paused.
Levi and the old man were looking at him dumbfounded.
Xander’s eyes navigated between them, self conscious.
The old man could not hold it in any more. He bursted into laughter.
Levi was the same thing.
Xander did not understand why, he too began to laugh.
"Good, good! It’s been a long time since I have seen anybody appreciate my cooking like that.
Tell me. What’s your name kid?"
Xander swallowed. "Xander... Xander sir!"
"Sir?" The old man laughed again. "Good, good. You are a very polite lad. I like you Xander."
The old man pointed to Levi. "This is my Grandson, Levi, and I am called old man Gato. It’s nice to meet you."
Still stuffing his mouth, Xander bowed politely.
Knock knock knock.
Heavy knock came from the door. "Old man Gato, open up!"
Gato’s eyes widened. "It’s the Baron’s men."
Xander’s eyes also widened in understanding.