The new military camp sprawled before them, a sea of tents and bustling activity. It dwarfed their previous posting, teeming with unfamiliar faces. As they made their way through, Cailan felt the weight of countless eyes upon him, accompanied by lewd comments and suggestive whistles.

These reactions were nothing new to Cailan. He'd grown accustomed to such attention, secure in the knowledge that Liam's presence kept him safe. The words washed over him, leaving little impact.

Liam, however, bristled with barely contained fury. His jaw clenched tight, eyes flashing dangerously at each new comment. Though he knew better than to start conflicts in an unfamiliar environment, his anger was palpable. By the time they reached their assigned tent, Liam's grip on Cailan's hand had become painfully tight.

Once inside the relative privacy of the canvas walls, Liam took a deep, shuddering breath. His gaze fell to their joined hands, and he abruptly loosened his grip. "Sorry, love," he murmured, voice tight with residual anger. "Did I hurt you?"

Cailan shook his head, gently stroking the back of Liam's hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry they upset you so much."

Liam's eyes flashed with renewed indignation. "You're sorry? No, I'm the one who should apologise. Those... those brutes out there," he spat, gesturing towards the tent flap. "The way they speak to you, as if you were some common whore. They have no understanding, no appreciation for what you are. For how you deserve to be treated."

“Don’t think they really care,” Tris commented as he tossed his bags down on the floor of the tent. “I don’t either, actually, but I’m pretty decent to whores, too.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fine.” Liam exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "You know, sometimes I hate it here. But then I remember how my family treated him, how my school friends behaved when I allowed them near. The only real difference was their choice of words. Less crude, perhaps, but no kinder at heart."

Tris grunted as he dragged two sleeping mats together. “Yeah, I mean, that's kind of the deal with being a slave, isn't it? Doesn’t get you a whole lot of respect.”

“Can you not have power over someone without being cruel to them?”

Tris paused in his arrangement of the sleeping mats, considering the question. "I guess," he said slowly, "but if what you want and what someone else wants are the same thing, or if they're not but you're not gonna do anything about it, what do you need power over them for? Isn't power about making people do what you want instead of what they want?"

Liam shifted his weight, his hand unconsciously seeking Cailan's. "I suppose you could describe it that way, but it doesn't have to be so... stark. We're all part of power structures, whether in our work or personal relationships. They can be caring and mutually beneficial."

Tris lowered himself onto the sleeping mats with a tired exhale. A wry smile played on his lips as he reached up, playfully dragging Roope down beside him. He tossed Roope's hat towards their bags before turning back to Liam, his expression sobering. 

"Listen," Tris said. "I'm not trying to pass judgement on your personal situation. I don’t know anything about any of that. But when you look at the bigger picture, at slavery as an institution? Things get ugly fast. The whole point is not giving them a choice in things because if you did, they wouldn’t wanna be your property.”

"I do," Cailan interjected, his soft voice cutting through the tension. It was rare for him to interrupt Liam's conversations, but he could see distress building in his master's eyes. "I want Liam to be my master. I want to serve him."

Tris's lips pursed for a moment, then relaxed. "Huh, okay," he said, his voice deliberately casual. "I'm glad you're doing what you want to be doing."

Liam's eyebrows lifted slightly. “What, no lecture about how he’s been brainwashed into it?”

“I mean, that seems like a thing that could be true, but I don’t know shit about shit, so what am I actually gonna say? And what would the point be? He’s still gonna be a slave. If he’s happy, well… good. I’m glad.”

“Well, I appreciate—” Liam began, but he was cut short by a sharp slapping sound against the canvas near the tent flap—the camp's equivalent of a knock. 

Before anyone could respond, the flap parted, revealing a man with a mop of curly brown hair. He poked his head inside, a grin spreading across his face. "Ah! You're here. Hello.”

"Hamish!" Tris exclaimed, his face lighting up as the curly-haired man fully entered the tent. He gestured towards Liam. "Liam, meet Hamish—the mastermind behind this whole arrangement."

“Oh, Hamish!” Liam said, offering his hand, which Hamish accepted. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Hamish clasped Liam's hand firmly, a wry smile playing on his lips. "People do tend to have opinions about me, don't they?" His gaze shifted, landing on Cailan with undisguised curiosity. “Wow, you look like you were expensive. Is your hair real gold?”

"No, sir," Cailan murmured, his eyes downcast. "Just hair."

Liam's arm snaked protectively around Cailan's waist, drawing him closer. His tone remained cordial, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “I can give you a few strands from his brush if you’re curious, but I do ask that nobody but myself touches him. I hope that was communicated clearly and that we have an understanding.”

“Relax. About the only thing that turns me off is timidity. And women, I suppose.” Hamish paused, reconsidering. “No, actually, women are fine, they just don’t turn me on. An important distinction under the right circumstances.”

Liam blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "Well, I—yes, I suppose it is." He cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "What about the others here? I've been told it's safe to leave Cailan alone in the tent."

“He’ll be fine,” Hamish assured him. “We have a bit of a community here, and as a community, we have a bit of a reputation. Of having sex with one another. That’s our reputation. Which is an issue, because that’s technically illegal—and more importantly, icky, at least in some people’s eyes. Anyway, the point is that none of us would be all that safe alone, but we have our tents together here and we keep an eye on one another and nobody bothers us all that much.”

"Thank you, I truly appreciate that. At our previous post, there was a designated tent for slaves during the day, but..." Liam trailed off, his expression darkening.

Hamish cocked his head, curiosity piqued. "You don’t like leaving Cailan with other slaves? Wouldn't it be good for him to make slave friends?"

"I used to think so, but the reality was... less than ideal,” Liam said. "Most were poorly trained children, often cruelly treated. It wasn't a healthy environment." He paused, visibly steeling himself. "There was an incident that ultimately prompted this move. A man entered the tent, and... well, he only touched his own slave, but he did so in front of everyone. In front of Cailan." Liam's arm tightened protectively around Cailan's waist. "I won't have Cailan exposed to such things."

Hamish's usual levity faded, replaced by a sombre understanding. “That’s fair. I wouldn’t like to see that either.”

Cailan bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a frown. Liam had been upset when Cailan had recounted the incident, but he'd never mentioned it again. Certainly not in relation to this move. He had been excited for the promotion and had talked about getting to see Cailan more, but nothing else.

Liam pressed a kiss to Cailan’s temple and murmured, “I know.”

Hamish's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Hm?"

"I didn't tell him that was the real motivation behind our move. He tends to feel guilty when I prioritise his needs, but on balance, I think it’s more important that he understands that I will.”

Cailan ducked his head. He hadn’t told Liam about that incident expecting him to do anything about it or even with the intention of seeking sympathy. It had simply been something Cailan had thought Liam ought to be aware of. In retrospect, he wasn’t at all surprised that Liam hadn’t forgotten about it as quickly as he had pretended. As strange as it sometimes seemed, Liam truly did put Cailan's needs first.

Hamish clapped his hands together, his energy seemingly undiminished. "Well, seems like everything's settled here," he announced cheerfully. "Welcome to camp, hope you enjoy your stay. Steer clear of Simon—he hates you on principle. Anything else you need, feel free to pay me a visit."

Before Liam could formulate a response, Hamish had ducked out of the tent, leaving a bewildered silence in his wake.

"Uh..." Liam blinked, staring at the tent flap. "Well, he's... certainly interesting."

Tris chuckled, stretching out on his sleeping mat. "You'll warm up to him. Everyone likes Hamish."

"Oh, I think I already like him," Liam admitted. "But you can't deny he's a bit... eccentric."

“And he was looking at the two of you like he’d never seen anything like you before, so what does that make you?”

Liam's expression softened as he glanced at Cailan. "Sometimes, when the world isn't particularly kind, being a bit strange is necessary." He squeezed Cailan's hand gently. "Come on, love. Let's find something to put those flowers in before they wilt completely."