Chapter 26

Sash

“Amidst the Kindles of the Pyres, I’ve found her song; terribly lonely and dark.”

My Dawn, Vol. III

Noah had quickly come to realize that Elucido might have been an exception as an architectural marvel within the Kingdom. Sumnner City, juxtaposed between the edge of the Weepwoods and the Sumnner River, was far more reminiscent of what he expected the architecture to be of the technologically-lagging society – wooden-frame houses with strawed roofs gripping the majority, with only a few stone buildings, mostly those of greater importance.

The streets were largely unpaved, though incredibly wide as carriages and wagons frequented them. Large spheres of feces, namely horses', were everywhere, creating putrid air that permeated the outsides, though Noah had also managed to spot a sewage canal to the outskirts of the city, browner than the dirt.

Despite this, however, the city was lively; countless stalls stood erect alongside the walled shops, with merchants hollering left and right, selling their wares, and the locals just trying to survive. The city was rather prosperous; after all, it was the gateway between the Silent Crossing’s Brightfloods and the capital, which meant that a lot of goods were exchanged here. Their own ride was scheduled tomorrow morning, which meant they would be spending a night in the city.

He’d already sent Myrell to scout out the prices while the coachman had long since departed back toward Elucido, another group in tow. Noah was currently sitting on an extended porch of the local inn, sharing a drink with the silent and awkward-seeming Sash. The man continued fidgeting ever since he was ordered to sit down, never having touched his drink.

“…” Noah glanced at him and sighed; he understood very well the man’s behavior. Whoever would pass would not only glance at Noah with hostility, they’d often outright spit in Sash’ direction, the least they ever did being hissing. It was not without the reason that Noah exposed him to these reactions; the man would have to get used to them if he was to accompany Sly to the academy where far worse things might be said to him. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“… a-aren’t you… Master?” Sash asked meekly. “Commonmen are… looking down on you…”

“… so?” Noah shrugged. “You’ll come to learn I don’t value pride and dignity highly Sash. They’re as empty as the valor of the dead.”

“…”

“Relax, take a drink,” Noah smiled at the man, pushing the cup toward him. “They have to walk out on this guzzling heat, inhaling the fumes of shit, while you get to sip decent ale in the pleasant shade. Whichever way you look at it, you should be jeering at them, no?”

"…" Sash glanced stealthily at his Master; the man was relaxed, entirely indifferent to the looks that were shot at him. Sash wondered where such confidence and indifference came, and what made the two of them so different, to begin with – why was it that his Master, someone who ought to be embarrassed by this, cared so little, yet he who had been exposed to this his entire life, cared so much. Reluctantly, he reached for the cup and took a sip; it was slightly cool, pleasant for the warm day. "I'm afraid of embarrassing you…"

“… how can you embarrass me?” the man asked, glancing at him with a faint smile. “The only way you could embarrass me is if you caved in and stood up. I expect a lot from you, Sash. Work hard for me, and you’ll have a life far better than all those who lashed out at you in your life. Besides, you’re a grown-ass man. Aren’t you ashamed of uttering stupid shit like ‘embarrassing me’? I’d expect this from Syl or even Evel. Not you, though.”

“… I’m sorry.” Sash replied meekly, burying his head deep into his chest. He was a Yosshir – whatever his Master understood, he didn’t understand what it meant to be a Yosshir. That was not something that could be explained in the words or in the stories; it was something that had to be lived for decades on end.

“… haaah,” his Master suddenly sighed as Sash looked up, meeting the elusive pair of blue eyes. Shaking his head, the man got up and faced the street where a small group of people was currently standing, pointing fingers at them. No… “Is there something funny?”

“—h-huh?”

“I don’t know; you keep standing there like raped sheep, pointing fingers and giggling like knife-headed beasts, so I was wondering whether it was me who missed a funny scene.”

“W-what—”

“Is my friend funny to you?” the Master’s eyes turned to slits suddenly; Danger! Sash’s heart froze as he glanced at the small group, desperate to call out to them and warn them to run away.

“Friend?” one of the men in the group scoffed. “You call that beast a friend? Humph, you better leave this city, you disgrace.”

“… correct me if I’m wrong,” He’s going, Sash realized as he watched his Master leave the porch and exit onto the street, a faint smile hanging on his face. “But… did you just call my friend a beast?”

“Was I wrong?”

"… were you wrong?" Sash got up to bring his Master back, but it was already too late; he was standing right in front of them, two heads taller than each, looking down as he suddenly reached out and grabbed the throat of the man who spoke out, lifting him up as though he was a child. The street seemed to freeze at that moment as hundreds of sets of eyes turned toward the peculiar scene, lips gasping open. "You have three seconds to apologize," he glanced at the rest of the group with dead eyes. "Or I'll snap your friend's neck right here and now."

“You wouldn’t—”

“Three…”

“This is a crime!!”

“Two…”

“F-fine, we’re sorry!! We’re sorry!! Let him go!”

“…” Sash’s eyes grew teary as he watched his Master fall silent for a moment before letting loose of his grip around the man’s neck; the latter punted against the dirt, coughing and weeping like a beaten housewife, shaking, not daring to look at his Master. The latter turned around and walked back onto the porch, passing by the standing Sash and sitting down, taking a sip of ale as though nothing happened. “… why?” Sash gritted his teeth, glancing at his Master. “Are you trying to make me more loyal?” he asked openly.

“… hm? A bit, I suppose,” the man shrugged. “A loyal slave is not a bad thing to have. But it was mostly of my own volition, I’m afraid; see, I suffer from this rather rare condition whereas I simply need to choke someone near death every once in a while. Otherwise, my big toes start rotting.”

“…” Sash held the laughter in, staring deeply into his Master’s eyes. The man was similar to many others Sash has met in his life, in many different ways; he was just as cruel, if not crueler than anyone Sash had met before; he didn’t care much for others; he could put up any sort of a mask necessary… none of these things made him unique. Yet, many others… did. It was in those eyes, Sash realized. His Master… didn’t look down on anyone. Not even those men that jeered at him. Not even at the man whom he lifted up like a child. In the blue eyes, Sash saw none of what defined his previous Masters – sky-bending pride and dignity.

"… you're too serious, Sash," the man chuckled all of a sudden, grinning right after as he toasted the cup toward Sash. "One thing I've learned in life… is that it can end at any moment. Because of that, you have to learn to enjoy every minute as though it could be your last. In that spirit, how can I afford to give energy to the random nobodies crookedly laughing at me? Life is full of them. If I'm constantly paying attention to them, I'm missing out on everything else. Occasionally paying dues is fine, but crippling your living just to live in a self-imposed shell of pain… is pathetic."

“…”

"I've told you; they despise you because they fear you," his Master continued after a brief pause, glancing at the now-empty cup. "So… live up to their fears. Be the beast they think you are. Gnash your teeth at them. Hold your hand against the blade's handle. Look like you're about to chop off their cocks if they take it too far. Who knows?" the blue eyes looked back at him smilingly. "You might grow to enjoy the exhilarating presence of power it gives you."

"…" Sash slumped back into the chair and fell silent, continuing to drink. His Master was too strange, he realized; it was not the matter of just being queer, it felt as though the man had fallen from the sky – from a completely different world. His outlook on life was unlike anything Sash had heard of before, and his behavior even less so. Beyond the shallow cruelty and the basic human desires, his approach to the world was entirely alien to Sash – he seemed almost wholly lukewarm toward everything, seeming to take life in strides.

For him who had spent his life locked in chains, lashed in the sizzling summer's heat, abused day in and out, these past few weeks have been soul-sickeningly uncomfortable. He'd wake up every morning, just waiting – waiting for the whip to lash against his back. A fist to crack against his cheeks. A word to stab at his heart. Anything – anything to confirm his status as a slave. But… beyond simply needing to follow this strange man around… how was he a slave? He was given pay, freedom to move around as he wills, to stay and sleep wherever and whenever he wanted…

“… you’re a strange man.” Sash muttered subconsciously.

“… hoh, am I now?” Noah chuckled.

“I-I mean… no, wait, you are…” Sash relented, deciding to go with the flow, wherever it may carry him.

“Ha ha ha, I suppose I am, aren’t I? I’ll drink to that, though.” For the first time in his life, Sash toasted with another person; it was an entirely ordinary action, far from being regal, yet… it was eerily fulfilling. His hand froze in the air as he felt Noah’s cup clank against his own. It felt as though his existence… the fact that he was a human and not a beast… was finally acknowledged.

He’s mine, Noah thought silently, taking a sip of ale, focused on Sash’s gaze from the corner of his eyes. That’s one down, it wasn’t particularly hard to sway a broken heart, but the key remained in maintaining it. Shouldn’t be too hard, he relaxed, leaning further in his chair as his mind drifted to further developing the plan on what he’ll do once he reaches the Brightfloods. That one, he knew, would be far harder than winning over the heart of a broken man.