“Alright...” Jura's eyes betrayed a rare sign of concern. She'd though she had a good idea of Tyr's ability. He was an able warrior, but this district was a place not even a gold ranked adventurer would tread freely and alone. It was dangerous. Typically, adventurers didn't come here alone to begin with, but Tyr was full of surprises. Capable of reanimating himself, but she didn't want him to experience pain due to a foolish reaction. His weeping had disgusted her, unable to feel the will of the world as the more mana attuned members of their party had – but it left her more confused than revolted. It wasn't that he wept that displeased her, only that she couldn't figure out why. “Somebodies gotta have an answer for this. Right?”

Yana's face was ashen. She dug through the pile of items. All told, it was easily a thousand gold credits worth of loot. A kings ransom. Something that could set any man or woman up for the rest of their life, and a dozen generations beyond that. Within the pile was a letter, a tightly wrapped sheave of parchment bound with a red ribbon. Bearing the imperial seal of Haran.

Abe was the one to reply. “It's something I cannot tell you. Information like that... It is dangerous. Suffice it to say that he related to the monster, a mutual binding of souls. It's not something easily explained, but it was a soul bond, and both of them decided to die at the very same moment. But only one of them did, the world as it were would not let Tyr follow the beast.”

“What level of magic was that?” Girshan asked curiously. Tyr running off into the forest was a strange turn of events but the kid could handle himself by the looks of things...

“It...” Abe exhaled, shaking his head. It wasn't magic. Not really. Magic was the combustion of mana to produce a phenomena. This was something different. “I can't say. All I ask is that you trust me, and and understand that it's in your best interest.”

“I do.” Girshan nodded, unwilling to strain their bond over it. Abe was old and wise, well traveled as anyone else. He'd only been taken after his mate had perished to a sickness, trapped in the debt of attempting to save her. Forced to sell himself into slavery so that his grown children would not experience the inheritance of their parents debt. Some did that. Mages of his talent weren't exactly known for their better natures. “Forever.”

“Forever.” Abe repeated, nodding with a forced smile. Girshan was one of his oldest friends, perhaps his only one, two decades of living in the same cell would forge a bond that was hard to put into words.

“What do you mean you can't explain what happened!?” Jura cried, waving her hands about to indicate the destruction that had infused the area. “Not magic, my green ass!”

“Jura...” Xavier coughed. When Abe or Girshan said something, they had to listen. That was his truth, being so young. Kijin did not question their elders. Ever. Though he'd never lived in proper kijin society, he knew that much. Tried to be the kind of person his clan would've been proud of, wherever they were.

“No, I sure won't shut my mouth.” Jura waved her hands again, leveling a finger at Abe. “Tell us!”

“I cannot.” Abe refused. “There are reasons for it. Call it an oath. Promises are sacred in orcish custom, yes?”

Jura was stuck at that. She was 'half orc, all tribe'. Saying it a million times, to anyone who would listen. A person who had been bullied for her mixed heritage and forced to earn her blooding through greater effort that most others had not experienced. It made her prouder, but she did not hate her tribe for their disdain. Once blooded, that same disdain had faded away and become love and compassion. It was her greatest wish to see her tribes ways continue on into the future. She was the last living member of the Laughing Moon, and part of her sacred promise to her deceased kin was to carry on their ways. Yes, promises were sacred.

“Fine.” She huffed, walking away and sulking at the edge of the clearing. Stepping away to take watch.

Xavier drank long from his canteen, the ash in the air scratching his throat. “Is he going to be okay? Should we go chasing after him?”

“Unwise.” Abe said. “We don't know him that well, or how he'd react. We have to let him go. If he wants to find us, he can. We are still registered to his party and tracked via his badge should he decide to return. It's his choice.”

“I don't like that.” Xavier said.

“Me neither, kid. But he is a troubled young man. Leave him be. I am sure he will return to fulfill his promise.”

“You think so?”

“We do.” Girshan replied in lieu of Abe. They were both leaders, but Girshan was the more authoritative of the two. His tone brooking no argument, though none could say how he knew for sure. As for Girshan himself, only he knew. Tyr was many things, but not a liar. He spoke honestly and bluntly, saying things he shouldn't. Things that normal people would hide and obscure at all cost. He'd told Girshan all his deepest and darkest actions. The slaughter he'd done on the borders of Asmongold, and more beyond that. Nobody could say for sure, but Girshan doubted it, and there was the letter he'd left on his departure that spoke volumes about his character. He still didn't trust the Harani, but he wouldn't question his honor just yet.

“Well...” Yana interjected, a sigh hot on her lips. She looked tired, as did Abe, both of them being pushed to their peak in sustaining the barrier. “It doesn't really matter.”

“What doesn't matter?” Xavier looked at her, angry. “I want to be free! Unlike you, I want to go live my life and not be bossed around by the master!”

“That's not what I meant, Xavier.” Yana chided. “Do you think any of us want to stay a slave for any longer than we have to?”

“No. Sorry...”

“Look.” She presented the letter to Abe. Xavier could not read very well, relying on the telurian to communicate the message for him.

“An imperial writ of oath.” Abe's mouth became a line. His eyes were hard as he read through the content of the letter. All sealed and signed by the banished prince of Haran.

Yana raised a brow. “What promises could he make via letter? He's no longer a prince. He has no authority.”

“Not true.” Abe said. “This is a writ of life. In Haran and Oresund, they have different customs – no slavery, but bonding is a similar concept. The only difference is that a bondsman is protected by the law, and given rights due a citizen. Something to protect them from injury or wrong doing. Debtors can bond to work off their debt, but unlike my own, no interest can be accrued if the writ is accepted.”

“What does that mean?” Xavier was lost in the finer nuance of northern law.

“In a manner of speaking, per context here, it means he's sold himself into slavery.” Abe replied. “To us. He has been exiled, but not properly banished. There is a difference in Harani custom. Even if we ignore all that, he is still wed to the scion of House Goldmane, which gives him more that enough authority to do whatever he wants. In recognition of 'our saving of his life', he has sworn himself to us by contract.”

“What does that mean...?” Xavier repeated, still lost. He, like Tyr, was good at hitting things and not much else. It wasn't like their master made point of giving them books and paying for tutors. “How does that make us free? Does that mean he is our slave? I do not want him to be a slave.”

“It doesn't.” Abe replied. “Slaves cannot have slaves by any law in any nation on the continent and even those beyond it. But, technically, a bondsman who takes a bondsman is freed under both imperial and Oresundian law. A law even the republic has to respect. The only thing that could counter this motion would be if Ragnar and Jartor, the primus', were to declare the contract void. Which won't happen.”

“How do you know?” Xavier asked. Tyr had shared with them the summary of what had happened, how he had been treated. Biological father or not, it was unclear, it seemed unnecessarily cruel to kick him out of his home of twenty odd years so suddenly. Not the kind of person that would do much out of the goodness of their heart for some random slave.

“Because Ragnar Stalvarg has already signed it. As has Jartor Faeron.” Printed in bold ink at the bottom of the unopened scroll, both these names testified to the upholding of this oath. It was a magical contract, but Abe couldn't understand how they'd managed to do so in an astral space. Perhaps it was transmitted as some other communications were by the relay stations, but he hadn't noticed the young man doing any such thing. It would seem that Tyr wasn't the only one who was full of surprises.

–

He felt good about this. Life wasn't black and white – but this situation was common sense to him. This was a good thing to do, he had done the right thing. The time to separate from them was coming nearer, and his bondsman term of 90 'real world' days was just a redundancy against anyone foolish enough to come and try to 'collect'.

It took a moment for Tyr to calm down, but he managed to through a great deal of effort. He'd given them all of his accumulated loot, and a writ of life. Enough to free them. Sworn on the name of not one primus, but three. Octavian hadn't answered, but upon submitting it to the relay station, Tyr was pleased to see that Jartor and Ragnar both had answered immediately. One did not disobey a primus. Those who could rise freely above the law, even if it hadn't been legal. A slave master could question them, only to see his entire house squashed and burned to cinders in the aftermath.

The inequity of the world. Primus' were capable of great and terrible things. Yet few abused their powers in the traditional sense. As far as Tyr knew. His 'fathers' arms were so long, it was hard to get a glimpse on his how far his influence spread. Even if they did not act, though, the churches would. Those who revered a primus only after the gods themselves, even over their own nations. He was loathe to thank Jartor in particular for any favor, but he had done right. Slavery was legal in Varia, so it was no surprise that Octavian hadn't. Until Iscari ascended, Tyr would never be able to trust their sister empire. Ragnar, however, was more of a surprise.

Tyr didn't know him very well. Had only met him once, and in the time that he had – found him to be a polarizing figure. Someone who had authorized his own execution, only to immediately sign off on Tyr's affidavit for bondsmanship. Without question, for both primus' it had happened within less than three minutes of it being submitted to them through the relay tower. It was rare, a loophole in the law technically. With two primus' agreeing the request, there was nobody on the entire planet that could or would think to question it.

He stood now, conflicted, before a ebony tower hidden deep within the recesses of the winding ravines dotting the jungle. Shining like onyx, it reached into the sky so tall as to see its top obscured beneath the clouds. He'd been drawn to this place through instinct, finding his way to it after a hundred miles of travel through the rough terrain. The monsters here were powerful, but for the most part – they ignored him. Giving chase for a scant few moments before abandoning their pursuit in consideration for easier prey. Raptors and other large therapods. Some double the height of an elephant, but they weren't reptiles, those few that he'd had to fight had warm blood, which was odd to him given their lizard-like appearance.

“Guess I'll go inside.” Tyr said. The sorrow experienced by the great ape still burnt into his psyche, leaving him dazed and befuddled. He'd not expected the reaction of the song to be so powerful. Never having experienced something like that, even when connecting with Okami.

After he'd done it, this place had called to him. At first, all he wanted to do was get away from that place, from those people who would surely judge him for the terrible thing he'd done. Increasingly loud, until he couldn't ignore it any longer. He was here, wherever 'here' was, the end of his journey, throwing open the portal and disappearing into the shadowy depths.