Chapter 20

Ways of the Living

“She spun and spun, like the Wheel itself; from her, dark tendrils grew, like shadows creeping from the Night. A Witch, they called her. And burned her alive.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. XII

Four people sat in silence, on their knees, observing curiously a man draped in loose, ashen-gray robes, while he held up a large canvas, one they only ever knew to be used for paintings by the masters, spreading it out against the wooden frame. Sylvester, Myrell, Sash, and Evel had been bought by the strange Dacent two weeks ago, during which they largely went running through the city, spreading the word about something called 'Amber Bank'. They hardly knew what it was beyond the fact that it had something to do with Crowns, and even less so dared to ask a question over it to their Master, fearful of bothering him.

However, today, their Master invited them all here to do exactly that – explain to them what they were doing, and what they will be doing in the future. All four had relaxed somewhat since the first day, as though the strange Dacent may have been strict and required punctuality from them, he didn’t beat them, starve them, or abuse them in any way – which was why they considered him so strange.

"… I've always sucked at public speaking," he muttered, more so to himself, yet loud enough for them to hear him. "I remember, this one time, I was supposed to deliver a briefing to my team over our attack… by god, I must have spent half an hour stumbling through information 'till Cal got too tired and shot at a wall behind me. That scary bastard was nuts…"

“…” no one replied, mostly because, as many times before, they didn’t understand their Master. He often spoke out strange things and in strange ways, as though he was speaking in a cryptic tongue only he could understand and they were undeserving of knowing or prying into it. Mostly, however, they learned that he spent the time with them venting about something – he would speak to himself, but their presence there meant he wasn’t really speaking to himself, so he wasn’t appearing mad. Naturally, none of the four would ever voice it out.

“Anyway,” he said, ruffling his shoulder-long hair, pulling it back over from his forehead. His eerily beautiful, gem-like blue eyes glanced over each of them individually, before his lips stretched out into a thin smile. “Some praise is in order, I believe. Save for Evel, who seems insistent on pissing everyone off, but somehow still doing her job promptly, because of you, the word about our venture has begun spreading decently. For now, there is no reason for you to go out and talk about it – that part is done. Myrell has already found us two customers, each appearing ready to default on the loan unfortunately.” Though he appeared amicable, and even kind on the surface, none of the four trusted that veneer – which was why they desperately tried not to anger him. Even Sylvester, the youngest of them, felt the hairs on his skin crawl whenever the Master would mention something he found… dissatisfying.

"From now on, I have different jobs for you," his expression remained constant, the faint, flickering smile faintly melting away at a dangerously imposing demeanor. "Myrell will be staying here, with me, helping me with records. Syl, I'll be enrolling you into the local Academy; your background will be that of my distant nephew, and you will have to adapt to the lifestyle of the Nobles and, without fault, befriend them."

“M-master—”

"I'll, naturally, help you with that," Sylvester's mind spun quickly as fear gripped at him, his body shaking. Only when Sash, a kindly middle-aged black man grabbed his shoulder did he manage to calm down somewhat. "Eventually, Amber Bank will have to be known by the blue-blooded as well, and I can hardly send any of you as you are over to them to spread the word. You are the youngest, and the only one who can do it."

“… I…” Sylvester stuttered; he didn’t want to refuse his Master from fear of being punished, but attending the Academy sounded like penultimate punishment to him.

“Look at me,” the strange Dacent crouched in front of him and lifted the boy’s chin gently, his smile turning wider. “I wouldn’t have bought you if my intention was to have you killed right after. I will teach you – from how to behave, how to speak, what to speak, and how to make friendships. By the year’s end, you will have a group of blue-blooded kissing your feet, Syl. How amazing will that be? A beaten, enslaved, orphaned boy… having a group of the blue-blooded kissing his feet?”

"…" a faint sense of excitement rose within Sylvester's heart as his restless eyes met the confident gaze of the Dacent. He believed the strange man can make it happen. He wholeheartedly believed it at that moment.

“Besides, I will send Sash with you as your personal guard.” The strange Dacent added with a chuckle, getting up and glancing at the kindly man.

"Master – I… I don't know how to fight…" Sash, a brown-eyed giant towering at nearly two meters, spoke in a soft tone, sporting a bitter smile.

“And?” the strange Dacent struggled. “You’re a Yosshir, Sash, no?”

“… yes?” Sash replied.

“Nobles are so racist toward your kind,” the Dacent said. “They think you are heart-eating monsters.”

"…" Sash felt a sting in his heart but remained silent as he knew better.

“You see it as an injustice – and, rightly so – but if you changed your perspective just a tiny bit, you’d see it as an opportunity. Yes, they’ll jeer at you, spit toward you, call you names and insult your heritage… but, I guarantee, none of the soft-bodied guards of the Nobles will ever lift their swords against you.”

“…”

“That’s how the cowards are,” the Dacent continued as Sash’s frown softened somewhat. “Their courage is upheld by the fact that you won’t do anything to them as you’d be executed. However, if they do attack you, and you kill them, what worth is your execution to them? They’re dead. When I was a boy,” the Dacent continued. “Others looked down on me as well; I was short, scrawny, surrounded by grown men who could suck my soul out with a finger. I could have cried foul and wept for the injustice, but I bided my time, and, well, here I am today. And where are they? I’ll leave that one to your imaginations,” he winked, chuckling mysteriously as he drew back to the canvas. “Don’t look at your skin color, at your origin, and think it would have been better if you were born different. Think – ‘how can I use this to get through in life?’.”

“… how can I?” Sash asked, his fingers curling up into a fist.

“… with my help? Easily,” Dacent chuckled. “What would you think… if I said that I can make out of you the Kingdom’s best fighter… despite the fact that you will have never fought?”

“…” Sash looked on, seeming confused, tilting his head sideways instinctually.

“… they will already think you are a monster,” Dacent explained. “A heart-eating Nightshade. What if… rumors spread throughout the Academy that you butchered a hundred men in a battle, all the while laughing maniacally? Or that you were so bored one day, you broke into the enemy's prison and killed your allies who surrendered to teach your men a lesson?"

“…” Sash’s blood froze in his veins as he got a deeper look into their new, strange Master. Terrifying… was the only thought he had, one shared with the other three.

“Just as the rumors of grandeur are exaggerated, so are the foul ones; just as that hero in the stories did not defeat a hundred men on his own, a single general did not rape thousands of women in one night all the while executing three hundred ‘honorable men’. But, it doesn’t matter that they did – all that matters is that people believe they did. All you have to do is… well, look really menacing, and growl at them once in a while. Though Evel would probably be more fit for the role, even wolves find her too adorable to attack, and even wimps too short to fear.”

“…” Even gnashed her teeth while the Dacent snickered, though daring not to say anything. All her life, her short stature caused her nothing but pain – her own family kicked her out when she was twelve, no man would take her as they believed she couldn’t give birth to children, no slaver kept her long enough as they believed she was useless… nobody gave her a chance. Ever.

“What? You’re feeling insulted?” she looked up and met the mocking gaze – one she’d seen plenty of times before… but… felt was also slightly different. “You feel insulted that I call you short?”

“---N, no, Master.” She replied meekly.

“… just like Sash, you’ve chosen to entirely neglect what you can do with what seemingly defines you," Dacent said, sighing suddenly. "I don't blame you two, not really. In a harsh reality, where even tomorrow's breakfast is uncertain, how could you? But, I don't care what your past was like. You could have been beaten, abused, spat on, shat on… I don't care. It's in the past. If you want to achieve anything in life, you can't hang onto the things that have already passed."

“…”

“You are short – a dwarf – what of it? Can you change it by grumbling and fighting with everyone who points it out, laughing?” she remained silent, looking at the floor .”Do you think, one day, you’ll wake up, magically being a girl with normal height? That, in your thirties, you’ll have a growth-sprout and live the life of a beautiful woman? You won’t. You were born a dwarf and you will die a dwarf. So, instead of taking something that you can’t change, and crying over it every time someone points it out… did you ever, even once, try to figure out a way to abuse the fact that you are short?”

“…”

"No, you haven't. I've known dozens of men who would have sacrificed their souls to be shorter, believe it or not. Why? Many reasons. It's easier to steal, it's easier to go unnoticed, it's easier to draw attention to yourself when necessary… you look at your reflection, and all you see is a monster. I, on the other hand, see the potential. And that's what I'll be teaching all of you." He said, moving his eyes over each of them individually once again. "All of you, whether you want to accept it or not, have a chip on your shoulder. You feel slighted by the world, as though you've been dealt the greatest hand of injustice in the world. Want the bitter truth? You haven't. Babes who died in their mother's wombs have. Children killed before they could speak have. So long as you have a capacity to change your life, you should try to do it – even if it kills you."

“…”

"Myrell thinks every man who sees her wants to fuck her," Dacent continued, pointing at them as he spoke about them. "Syl believes everyone he meets thinks he's weak so he has to fight them to prove otherwise. Sash thinks everyone who looks at him only sees his skin color and nothing else, and never bothers with others. And Evel thinks being short is the worst thing in the world. All of those weaknesses… I can turn to strengths. No, that's a lie. You can turn them into strengths. I'll just show you how that's all."