You press close to your brother, trying not to get lost in the crowds of people in the streets. You were walking to the market for supplies, and you were nervous but excited. You usually stayed on the plantation where you and your brother lived - which was about twenty miles outside of the main city, Domunus - and you had been here before, but very rarely. At seven years old, your years outnumbered your trips to the city.

Your brother, on the other hand, was much more surefooted on these cobblestones. He came here often, about every two weeks. He usually left you at home, but you, being seven and a big boy, eager to see the city, had begged to come until he had agreed to bring you along. But he had made you wear a weird pair of glasses; they were dark, and he'd called them "shades". They'd made everything look too dark for a while, but eventually your vision adjusted and things looked normal again. He had a pair as well, though his were pointy at the ends.

He said they'd make it so people couldn't see your eyes, which were unusual; they were red. He'd explained that even though there was nothing wrong with your eyes, things that were different tended to frighten the people in the city.

Your brother watched over you like a parent, and he was one, in a way. Your father had died in battle shortly after you were concived, and your mother died shortly after you were born. That left only you and Bro on the giant plantation, which was the reason you were here right now. You needed some things from a metal workers, then Bro was showing you all around the city. You wanted to see it, not remembering your earlier visits, seeing as you were very young.

You thought back to all the times you had had to stay home, watched over by your servants . The servants, though technically owned by you, were more like family than anything else. Their quarters were nice, near you, and they ate the same quality food you ate. They worked in the fields, stables, and house, which you did not, but their workload wasn't heavy, and the fields and stables you and Bro had weren't raising food and animals for sale, but rather to feed everyone on the plantation and to produce milk, wool, and meat. You also had a few riding horses.

The servants had been with you as long as you could remember, and a few had cared for you like nannys. One of the women had nursed you when you were young and motherless. You and her child, a young boy named Tero, were close friends. Not like you and Bro, though. You were closer to Bro than anyone else.

Most of the servants you two had were the children or grandchildren of the original servants; about two dozen in total. The original servants were old now, and the youngest - their great-grandchild - was a three-year-old girl.

The original servants had been captured generations ago, when the Domunus empire had just begun expanding. These servants had been purchased as slaves by your parents - such a long time ago that many had even cared for Bro when he was a child. When an older servant had died, Bro had helped dig her grave, and had cried while doing it. That was one of the only times you've ever seen your Bro cry. He said she had been like a grandmother to him. You didn't know her that well, since you were so young when she died; only about four.

The servants were human, like you and your Bro, even if they didn't look like you. While you and Bro had light skin, light hair, and red and orange eyes, respectively, the servants had brown hair, black hair, and one even red hair. They had skin ranging from light to dark, and eyes from brown to blue to green.

When you asked Bro why they didn't look like you, he said that you and him didn't look like a lot of people. That you looked different.

In the city, you can see that.

No one has skin as light as yours, or hair. A few people give you curious glances as you pass by, looking at your white-blond hair, or perhaps at your shades - though glasses exist, they are not common, and shades are even more novel - and you can see none of them have red eyes, or orange eyes either. Most of them have dark eyes, a few with blue.

A half-excited, half-frightened shiver runs through as you look around at all the people in the marketplace, and the tall buildings all around you. You hold onto Bro's arm tightly.

Domunus City was so big.

You and Bro stop at a metalworks store, where he gets the things he needs. Strong chains and collars; these were for his job, his job that made it possible for you two to have such a big house, to have horses for riding, to have enough food to feed both you two and the servants without ever going hungry. Why your brother had to go into the city often and leave you at home.

Your brother was a slave trainer.

He'd pointed out the slave auction building as you two had come in, and he had said very often before that he couldn't take you into the city, that he would another day, but that he was going to buy slaves that day. He didn't want to take you to the auctions - they were loud and crowded and far too rough a place for a seven-year-old.

When you say slaves, you aren't talking about the friendly human servants, oh no. You would never chain them up. You would never have to.

These chains were for the slave quarters, a few miles from your house. Where the "training" part of Bro's job came in.

Bro was the only one who went there, unless Bro needed a servant or two to help him. They didn't mind helping him; they didn't identify with or even really like the slaves, who were wild and violent and inhuman.

A clink from the chains as Bro tugs on them, testing their strength. They had to be strong as possible.

Stronger than a troll.

You knew trolls were strong, even if you were never allowed near them. Neither you nor the children servants were allowed anywhere near the slave quarters. They were far away enough from your house that your Bro and any adult servants helping him had to ride horses to get out there.

You shake your attention from trolls, turning it instead to the store. It wasn't often you came to the city, you may as well look around while you can. You gaze about at all the metal crafts; hammers, plows, and...oh.

Swords.

You stare, but don't dare touch. You move closer to them; Bro is nearby with the chains and the store is small and none too crowded; you're not afraid to get lost. You're mesmerized by the swords; you've always wanted to learn how to use one, but Bro says you're too young.

That doesn't mean you can't look.

You move along the row of swords, growing a bit bolder, moving further back to see more of them. You stop at the back of the store, with the sound and light of the city coming in from the open double doors, as you stare at one of the swords near the door and how it catches the light.

You hear someone shouting loudly and angrily from the street, as well as the faint sound of clinking, and look up, startled, out the doors into the streets.

Your heart races as you see a group of slave drivers moving a line of trolls, trolls, in chains towards where Bro had said the slave auction was.

Your fingers itch to take of the dark glasses, to see better, though you don't. Your so excited; real, live trolls! You've never seen them before, not in person; just paintings in books, or heard about them from others.

You know enough about slaves to know these trolls are probably freshly captured from the lands Domunus is expanding into. They still have on unusual clothing; most slaves wear plain tunics, but these ones have on a strange style you've never seen before. The clothes of their native land, you guess.

More interesting than their clothing was their skin. They had grey skin, so much darker than any you'd seen before; even your darkest-skinned servant had skin the color of tree bark. These troll's skin was like heavy, dark smoke. They had black hair with orange horns pushed up through the locks, all different shapes and sizes. The idea of horns reminded you of a goat or bull, but not all these horns were like animal's horns.

As the line of slaves progresses, chains around their ankles clinking with their hands tied behind their backs, one comes into view that really strikes you. You can tell he's a boy, even from here, and he's short, shorter than the others; he looks like he's about your size. Very young. He has shorter horn than the others; and they're rounded on the tips. The ankle chains look loose on him, smacking his anklebones, and for a second, he turns his head.

His eyes lock onto yours, and you're glad you have shades on.

His eyes are yellow, which is a shock to you in itself, but what really gets you is the furious, despair-filled look he hits you with. You flinch back physically, and can't tear your gaze from his.

Then he vanishes from view, behind a building as he moves down the street with the rest of the slaves.

You turn, feeling a bit shaken, and find Bro, who's ready to leave the store, having gotten what he needed.

You two spend the rest of the day in the city, and with the excitement of the crowds, the huge buildings, and the play you go see at an outdoor theater with seats of stone, the troll boy is soon forgotten.

That is, until you pass the biggest building yet as you two are heading out an hour or so before sunset, going back towards your horse, left at a farmer's house whom your Bro knows, right outside the city. You stare up at the building, awestruck.

"Bro, what IS that?"

"That's a Colosseum, lil' man."

"Can we go inside it? Please?"

Bro shakes his head. "No Dave, we have to head home." He cuts you off as you try to protest that you won't stay long. "And," he adds, "It's not a place for children."

"What happens in there?" You ask, pacified from your desire to go in, but still curious about the building.

"A lot of fighting. Gladiators fighting one another, fighting lions, fighting trolls. Sometimes they have the trolls fight each other."

You think back to the angry eyes of the boy troll.

"...Do you train your trolls to fight?" You ask.

"Sometimes I train them to fight, sell them to an owner who'll enter them in coleussum fights." He notices your withdrawn expression and mistakes your thoughtfulness for fear, reaching down and putting a hand on your shoulder. "Don't look so scared, little man, they don't ever hurt me. They might be strong, but not stronger than your big brother." He grins.

"Does it hurt them to fight?" You ask, feeling strange. A pressure in your chest. Bro clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about them. They're just animals. They're built like people; arms and legs, but they're not like us. They're dumber than dogs. They don't understand us when we talk, and they just scream at each other, and they kill one another, too. They're like sharks; violent, stupid animals. The only reason we don't eat them along with cows and pigs is because they taste bad," Bro finishes, chuckling, ruffling your hair.

You smile, pacified. If they really are dumb, and so violent they would only fight anyways, it must not be that bad to fight them.

You can't help but think back to boy troll, though. He didn't look stupid.

Just scared and mad.

Maybe you just didn't see right, didn't see he was dumb. Your bro was super smart, and he was pretty much always right about everything. Like when he showed you how to start a fire with a piece of glass. You didn't think it was possible, but he made it happen. It was super cool, just like him.

You look back up on the stone building. Maybe troll fights would be cool, too. Exciting, like a hero fighting a monster, or a knight fighting a dragon.

"Can I ever go there?"

"When your older, sure. I don't have a problem with them fighting animals, but it's too bloody for a kid your age. I bet you'd like it when you're old enough."

You nod, smiling as you walk along with your Bro, leaving the city.

You bet you would, too.

That night, though, your dreams are haunted by a hurting, angry, yellow-eyed boy.

Catz: If you have any questions about this fic or anything, you can PM me or leave them in the comments. I'll respond to PMs and comments on my profile. Don't be shy to talk to me - I love talking to you guys, and I'm never bothered to see a message.

On the other hand, DaveKat. Fun!