Chapter 30

Tutelage

“The Storm’s a-coming, and the Leys of Light are not prepared.”

Lumina’s Crucible, Unknown

Sash stood in front of the tightly-closed, wooden doors to an eerily silent cabin, occasionally glancing at it with some worry and curiosity. It's been nearly a week since his Master left, only ever opening the cabin to either take the meals or have Sash drop his waste overboard. He'd neither spoken more than three words nor gave a single order beyond staying here to Sash, making the man wonder what had happened to his Master within the 'Realm of Shades'.

Even Sash, who had never taken a ship down the Sumnner’s River before in his life, knew of the phenomenon that the sailors on occasion experienced – Rise of the Sumnner. It was rare, but it did happen; mostly it amounted to nothing, as only a few people died due to the crew of the ship believing the creature required sacrifices, but, on occasion, someone within the crew would be found floating midair with ghastly, green tendrils hoisting him up. They would go on to mention they ‘met’ Sumnner inside a dark realm, and it spoke to them. The Dacents dubbed the experience as the ‘Cradling of the Shade’, but none of those who experienced it changed as drastically as his Master, especially immediately after.

What's even stranger was that his Master did not appear petrified by the experience, as he seemed even calmer than before – but also something else, something that Sash only noticed just a few moments ago when his Master opened the doors to grab today's lunch. In the pair of blue eyes that always hid daggers that Sash could extrapolate… he no longer saw them. The daggers, that hidden danger… it was gone. He did not, even for a second, believe that his Master had suddenly become saintly or had taken to life in a completely different way.

In Sash's mind, it meant one thing – his Master had completely coiled the tendrils of darkness that existed within him, hiding them beyond discovery. He appeared inconspicuous, entirely the persona he dubbed himself on his journey, not even a trace to be found of the man Sash met for the first time – charming, yet extremely dangerous figure. There even appeared to be a cloud of meekness around him, providing the perfect camouflage.

“Sash, come in.” a voice suddenly called out from the inside, startling the man for a moment. He took a deep breath and straightened his bent back before opening the doors and entering. The cabin was not much different than the last time he’d been inside, save for some extra parchments stacked on the small, crowded table. His Master was sitting on the bed, smiling lightly; Sash had always been able to see the knives behind that smile… but not anymore. They were gone. “You know, you don’t have to stay in front of my cabin all day long. Go out from time to time; stretch your legs or something.”

“… I… I’d rather not.” Sash replied, looking away from the blue eyes that seemed capable of reading the words directly from inside his mind.

“…” his Master remained silent, reactionless even, beyond that smile. “Have Myrell join us. I have something to discuss with you two.”

“Yes, Master.” Sash nodded, leaving right after, wondering what ‘discussion’ they will have soon enough. From everything he’d observed, he didn’t expect anything good.

Noah watched Sash leave silently, refocusing back on the table and the parchment once the man closed the doors. He'd show no public appearance in the Brightfloods, and would not meet anyone of status – that’s something he forcibly decided. Even though neither Sash nor Myrell were yet at the point of being a capable replacement, they’d have to do in the short-term. He had the short journey over to the Brightfloods to teach them to the best of his ability and prepare them for everything they’d have to go through in his place.

In turn, he’ll have to form the local group of his own through one of them that he can use as informants of sorts without too much attachment. The problem with having slaves do these tasks was the prejudice they would face, especially Sash – and even Myrell with her missing arm. Noah, however, had a few ways around it, which was what he was concocting the past few days he stayed inside. Sash, naturally, couldn’t become the main talker and the driving force no matter how clever and composed the man seemed on the surface. The stigma attached to his skin would weigh too heavily on the discussions, and Noah had no time to try and pacify it. That meant that Myrell would have to mantle the main role, while Sash would act the role he will act in the future alongside Sylvester – that of the imposing ‘bodyguard’.

His mere presence will undoubtedly cause restlessness inside the other party for many reasons, and all Noah had to teach Myrell was to spot that restlessness and how to exploit it without giving it away. The key was to strike immediately – over time, the loathing people felt toward Yosshirs would overwhelm the initial, gut-reactionary fear. While Noah himself would not resort to it as it bears with it too many variables, Myrell simply couldn't learn the art of reading humans and interpreting their actions on the moment-by-moment basis within a few weeks at best, leaving this choice as his most dependable.

The results were likely to be marginal, but he had to work with them rather than risking his own neck. His chances of actually ‘acquiring’ Claire dropped to almost non-existent, but there was still a chance. Considering that Yosshirs themselves, in a sense, were deemed 'exotic' due to the fact that they're the natives of the Scorching Foot, perhaps the curiosity would get the better of the House's representatives.

As he won’t be there to sell his ideas, he’d also have to write and sketch them out onto the paper with some precision, something he was dreading. And he’d also have to explain the abstracts of it to Myrell – which he wasn't certain she would understand. However clever she may be, she lacked something that most people in this world did – and what was one of Noah's prime advantages – experience in perceptions. His understanding of things is much broader due to the fact that he'd seen all of this before, but done much better. He could sit any one of them down for years on end and try explaining computing without ever getting anywhere. It was not that these people were stupid in any way, shape, or form, it was simply that their perceptions were limited – just as his was in terms of Light.

However, he didn’t necessarily need her to understand – she just had to sell it. It was a business move more so than anything else, and any successful businessman is successful because they know how to sell their product, no matter how bad that product may be. The most successful ones may not even know what the hell is the point of the product, but they can still sell it – and she’d have to become exactly that.

Sash returned a few minutes later with Myrell following him, appearing somewhat anxious. He’d rarely spoken with the two over the past few days, and both undoubtedly had some worries over what he suddenly wanted to discuss.

“I’d offer you sit,” Noah said with a faint chuckle. “But… well. If you don’t mind the floor, feel free to.”

“It’s fine, Master.” Sash replied while Myrell nodded afterward.

“Very well,” Noah shrugged, leaning further back. “The reason I invited you over is because we are a week and a half away from landing in the Brightfloods, and we have a lot of things to cover in the meantime. Once there, I’ve decided to take a step back and not meet anyone directly – rather relaying that task onto you two.”

“…” though they remained silent, Noah easily read the shock in their eyes.

“Naturally, I don’t plan on blindly thrusting you in situations you can’t handle, which is why I’ll be preparing you two – especially you, Myrell – for them until we land. You’ll be taking over my spot and fronting during our stay.”

“—Master, I—”

“I’ll make you ready,” Noah interrupted her quiet protest quickly, cutting it short. “Even if you can’t become who I want you to be by the end of my tutelage, I need you to at least be capable of pretending you are. Not toward me, but toward others you will meet. You’ll be in charge of meeting anyone I would have met, and selling anything I would have sold. While I won’t say failure is unforgivable, as I hardly expect you not to falter, I do want to see you at least put effort into not failing.”

“… y-yes… Master…” Myrell nodded reluctantly, biting her lower lip.

"And, Sash, this will be a perfect opportunity for you to practice the same role you'll play once you return to Syl's side – a silent, overbearing mountain. You'll meet plenty of people that will hold the same prejudice against you that the Noble children will. They'll look at you with scorn and fear, and you'll accept it all and still glare at them like they're dead chicken if they slight you. If you ever see anyone trying to get aggressive with Myrell during the conversations, I need you to look like you’re about to chop their heads off cleanly.”

“…”

“You two will play the roles of my representatives, directly,” Noah elaborated. “You’ll introduce yourselves as such – representatives of an enigmatic figure. Call me whatever you want, and call me however many names you want. It’s not important. They just need to know that there’s someone behind you and someone who, at least on the surface, seems rich and powerful beyond measure. That is why our first task will be dressing you up in the most expensive clothes and armor pieces we can find in the Brightfloods. Myrell, you'll also have to learn to talk formally – and react to provocations without the timid nature. If they provoke you, smile. If they slight you, smile and slight them back. Never take an inch without giving one back, no matter who's sitting on the other side – project confidence, not in yourself, but the enigmatic figure behind you. You can insult the Lord because the person standing behind you is even larger than the puny Lord. If they laugh and insult you constantly, get up and walk away. Walk away with a warning given alongside a hollow smile."

“…”

“This is merely an overview of what I’ll have you doing by the end,” Noah chuckled, noticing Myrell’s spinning gaze that seemed on the verge of collapsing entirely. “I’ll, naturally, break it down for you into chunks that are easier to swallow. The key to selling the persona I want you to enact is confidence. So, let’s start from the beginning – tell me, while looking me in the eyes, that you feel pity my face got smashed with a hammer when I was a child.”

“…” Sash coughed lowly to cover up laughter while Myrell looked up and met Noah’s eyes in horror, shaking.

“What?” Noah asked her, tilting his head.

“I—I—I can’t do that, Master… you… you are supremely handsome, a god amongst men, you are—”

“Did I ask you to praise me?” Noah asked, frowning. “Insult me with confidence. Everyone you’ll meet pays a great deal of attention to their appearance, and it is often the point of pride for them. Insulting that point of pride is the easiest way to get them agitated and self-conscious, especially because you are a woman and they’re men.”

“…”

“If you don’t start, I’ll start insulting you.” Noah warned, but Myrell still remained silent, shaking, seemingly incapable of uttering a sound. "In my life, I have never seen an uglier creature presenting itself as the fairer sex. I'd rather fuck a bucket of shit than ever touch you. If I ever fathered a child with you, I'd carve out my own cock and choke you with it before stabbing my own heart in shame. I—"

“I—I feel sorry for you, my L-Lord… b-being hit with a hammer in the face when a child… must… must have been painful…” Myrell, incapable of listening to Noah anymore, stuttered out her words through her teeth, on the verge of tears.

“… good,” Noah’s frown turned into a smile as he nodded. “I mean, I see zero confidence in you, but, hey, it’s a start. Now, look up and into my eyes… and say it again.”

“… Master…” Myrell cried out, feeling wronged as she met his eyes.

“If you can’t even stand up to me – a man who won’t touch you no matter what you say to me right now – how do you expect to stand up to people who will say even more insulting things to you straight to your face? Don’t just take the punches with a lowered head, Myrell. That was what you did as a slave, to save your life. I don’t need a slave anymore. I need a woman who will look any young Lord in the eye and say their cock must be the smallest thing next to a grain of sand.”

“… pfft…” Sash didn’t manage to stifle his laughter this time around, quickly looking away and covering his mouth, his shoulders mysteriously jumping up and down.

“There’s no way I can say such a shameful thing!” Myrell cried out in injustice, feeling even more wronged.

“Why is it shameful? Are you saying having a small cock is shameful? Tsk,” Noah clicked his tongue with a playful grin. “I didn’t take you to be such a shallow woman, Myrell. What if your Master has a small cock? Are you saying I should be ashamed?”

“—no, no! Of course not! My Master’s c-c-cock is the most beautiful thing—”

“…” Sash quickly covered Myrell’s mouth while covering his own with the other hand as Noah burst out into laughter, shaking his head.

“Haah,” taking a deep breath and calming down, Noah glanced at Myrell’s torn eyes with a faint smile. "We've still ways to go, it seems. But, there's some promise. Alright, so, let' start from the beginning: first impressions…"