A few days after I met with Sayleah to add her to my fast growing family, the morning meal was interrupted by a loud announcement over the emergency address system. “Please welcome our new student, Slatharg Schrudt. He has, recently been named heir to House Schrudt due to the ongoing failure of Haleth Schrudt to make himself available. Please welcome this young man to our ranks and help him to make the best of things.”

The young man in question was easily identified when I looked over to a table on the left side of the dining area. He sat alone as he looked around with wide eyes. Everyone could see the interested parties sizing the newcomer up, much like wolves examining prey before the inevitable predatory charge.

I stood up, followed by Slaith, and walked over to the table. We placed our trays across the table from Slatharg. I looked across the table and smiled at him gently, “Hello, Slatharg. I had the opportunity to meet your brother a few times. He was guarding one of my fiancées at the time. Slaith here would be happy to look out for you until you get more acclimated here.”

Slaith put out his hand to grip the boy’s hand companionably, “We can also keep an eye out for your brother, if you like.”

The boy looked up at Slaith with a bit more confidence and smiled a gentle smile before responding, “I thank you for the offer, but I was never close with Haleth. We have different mothers and never got along. If he does show up, our father has already told me I will not be able to stay here. So, I hope he is permanently gone.” He looked directly at me and said, “If he does show up, I would be grateful to anyone who removes him in a way that can not be reversed.”

The cold hatred in his voice was incongruous with his timid and mild expression. I replied calmly, “I can see that this has been on your mind for a while. Please feel free to join us at our table for the evening meals from now on. My girls will see if they can smooth things out for your entry into our school.”

I motioned to Slaith that we needed to move on. As we disposed of our trays, Slaith asked, “What do we make of that boy?”

“I think he was trying to see if we had anything to do with Haleth’s death. Pass the word to the girls to make sure nobody gives him any information that would work against us. They will also need to gather information about him. In the meantime, I will need you to make sure the campus sees you as a resentful bodyguard with a fop as a client.

“I suspect he knows his brother is already dead. He was trying to see if we were stupid or sloppy enough to confirm our guilt,” I said this last as we walked to our next classes.

---===+++===---

My next class was a special one. The name of the course was ‘Biology of special subjugated species and races and their uses’. Today, we were going to learn about a species of special interest to me. We were going to visit the facility where the Drakon species was cultivated and harvested.

The entire class of thirty students moved as a group from the classroom to a large, stone building. The natural stone of the building looked like it was older and more weathered than any other structure on campus. There were multiple walls that formed a spiraling path to the building, reaching chest height.

As we entered the large central lobby of the building. There was a doorway in the center of the wall to the left that echoed with guttural sounds of creatures crunching through flesh and growling at each other.

The instructor cleared her throat, “Ahem! We will be visiting the larva chambers first in our tour. This is where the larval form of our domesticated Drakons are placed directly after they hatch. These livestock are fed only well enough that enough of them survive to a large enough size to be useful.”

A girl towards the front of the group raised her hand and was pointed to by the instructor. The girl then spoke up, “What do you mean fed well enough for enough of them to survive?”

“A good question,” replied the instructor to the murmurs of the crowd. “We allow them to eat each other. This way, only the strong ones make it to the point where they can be harvested. Weak Drakon materials are a waste of our efforts.”

A male student near the middle of the group raised his hand. Somehow, his very effort to ask to speak struck me as arrogant. When pointed at, he spoke in an unctuous voice that set my teeth on edge, “Why are we harvesting materials from such an inferior species?”

The distaste on the instructor’s face was clear as she explained, “You have all seen the black coating that covers the armor our occupation forces wear when they travel through the portals. That coating, called ‘planar shielding,’ protects them from the side effects of entering the portals. The coating even covers the helmets they use. This protective coating comes in several grades and is made from the blood of the larval Drakons. Without the protection of that coating, anything living that passes through a portal can become ‘blended’ with anything else that is with them.”

I raised my hand. When I was pointed at, I asked in my own best entitled voice, “Can’t we synthesize the coating with artificial methods?”

She responded with a tired look that told me that she had been asked this question more frequently than she had ever wanted to. “We have been trying to make an artificial equivalent for a very long time. This has been an important project for a long time due to Drakons becoming scarce. The species is vanishing. We are also worried because the effectiveness of the blood has become lower and lower each year. We may soon be unable to generate more of the coating.

“If you will follow me quietly into the hall to the left, we will be able to observe the tanks the larva are kept in. We will see them in the final stages of their feeding time.”

We followed the instructor into the darkened hall. On the left side of the passage, there were clear walls that separated us from the clear tanks where the grotesque forms of the Drakon larva squirmed and snapped their toothy maws at each other. They looked like fleshy versions of a type of grub worm with leathery hides. I could see at least a few in every tank chewing on the remnants of their siblings with gusto. These creatures looked to be formidable predators. I also noticed that some of them were choosing to eat each other rather than the food that was being dropped into the tanks.

After we had all gotten a good look at the occupants as they enjoyed their lunch, our guide motioned us to a door on the right side of the hall, near the far end. As we filed into the room behind the door, we saw two tanks. The first tank held a large reptilian creature that was the size of a riding beast. Even though I was unfamiliar with the biology of the thing, I could tell it was unhealthy. Ichor and pus leaked from wounds on its scaly skin. Its eyes rolled in apparent agony as handlers changed out some of the bindings that held it in place. Our window into the tank darkened as the one next to it brightened. That tank was twice the size of the other one.

“The first tank we looked into contains a male. We only allow one male at a time mature. That male is used to fertilize the eggs of the female in the larger tank. We keep the transparent wall opaque when people are not observing from this area,” the instructor droned on.

The second tank held a much larger prisoner. One of the eyes on the larger creature, the size of a medium-sized cargo vehicle, had damage that was obvious. This occupant was only bound loosely and was too listless to show any outward evidence of pain or suffering. “This female is the only one we have allowed to mature and reproduce. It has to have its frontal lobes damaged from time to time since they regenerate. When the tissue is damaged, she is rather docile and can be managed easily. We are unsure of the lifespan of Drakons, so we do not know if or when we will have to try to mature a new female.”

I held up my hand now out of actual curiosity about the open and casual cruelty being shown by my own people. This was far and above more cruel than I had seen my people be in my life before that point. “How long has she been held like this?” I asked.

Still sounding bored, she responded, “Our records show she has been with us for at least the last four hundred years. The previous one managed to break free and do fatal damage to herself when a handler failed to realize the tissues in her brain had grown back. Luckily, we were able to mature one of the larvae to breeding age before the supply of larvae and their blood ran low.”

My stomach was churning from the level of casual mistreatment. I knew my people were not kind, but this was brutal even for us. A part of me wondered at my reaction to this. Why was it suddenly bothering me?

---===+++===---

Once the field trip was over, I went back to my room to rest. My own reaction to the events of the trip was at least as disturbing as what I had observed. Maybe my girls were right that there was something different about me. That idea was scary. If I were discovered to diverge from what was normal for my people, it could lead to dangerous legal consequences. It could even lead to enslavement or death. If either of those things happened, five girls and my foster brother would be in danger. I had no delusions that they would be able to defend themselves effectively.