Slave Trade - Epilogue (Part 2 of 3)
Slave Trade
Epilogue (part 2 of 3)
copyright 2013 comidacomida
Despite the fact that only coals remained in the fireplace, Dorias was content to sit at a nearby table and read. Between the dim light from the embers and the two candles he'd appropriated from the common room's shelves, the yak had no issue with spending the majority of his night in the downstairs of the inn. The inn keep and his wife talked with everyone about anything. They were from Meisenyl, and it was interesting to hear accents from his past. They were a pleasant enough pair of sheep and they appeared to have no problem hosting him and his reading mood; Lord Hector's generous patronage saw to that.
It was a strange thing, Dorias realized, that he was a free man. Having spent very nearly five decades under the command of one master or the next, the yak was unaccustomed to the trials and tribulations of those who controlled their own schedules-- the most quaint of these, he decided, was the illusion independent men suffered regarding 'free time'. The yak chuckled to himself, turning the page of the tome he studied; he realized that there would be no way that he would ever be mistaken that time was anything but a scarce commodity.
The inn keeper's wife passed by, her approach obvious as much from the sound of sweeping as her soft steps on the wooden floor, "Enjoyin' yer read, ser?" she inquired amiably as she made her rounds. The ewe was a kindly enough sort as far as Dorias was concerned but he also realized that the difference between gentility and scorn was all about perceived station; considering he was traveling with Lord Hector and, for once, well-dressed, she was probably responding more to his clothing than the yak within them. He had a feeling she wouldn't have been so courteous to a slave.
"Aye, ma'am... thank ye." he responded, eyes going back to his book.
"Ah!" her face lit up immediately and she sat down across from him, "Thought I heard yeh right." the woman was all smiles, "Couldn't mistake a fellow Meisenylian tongue from across th' street, let alone across from th' room." she offered a wink and another smirk, "Northern, I'd wager... eh?" The apparent admission that she was listening in on his quiet conversation with Lord Hector and his fellows gave him a moment's concern, but he waited before passing judgment.
"Western." he answered simply, "Coastal town." and placed his finger between the pages as he closed the book and looked the lady over. She had the casual air of someone who was content to leave work for later assuming the conversation was good enough. Dorias didn't particularly mind, assuming her reason behind chit-chat was genuine-- he'd spent far too many years learning how the simplest of words could be used in unique ways when it came to manipulation, "Ye be southern..." he commented, focusing on her accent, "I knew a mouse from Southern Meisenyl."
"Oh?" she inquired in a friendly tone, "Well, Gods-an'-Men, it's a small world." she laughed, "Though I ain't been back in, oh... twenty years." and she folded her hands in front of her on the table, "It'd be a Soraani's will if 'e was from Bradforshire..." she noted, "That's where I'm from, yehsee."
"Then I'd best 'ope not, ma'am," Dorias noted blandly, "... 'e was a traitor t'-'is Lord, 'elped in an uprising, took up arms against 'is allies, betrayed 'is fellows, an' nearly killed someone very dear t'me."
"Mmm." the ewe scowled, and spat on the floor, "Then 'e's not from Bradforshire... we raise em right, we do... we respect our Lords an' cherrish our friends." She stood, picking up her broom as she did so.
"Ah..." Dorias nodded, "Then aye, th' mouse came from other parts, I'm sure."
"Well, beggin' yeh pardon, ser, but I be thinkin' that this mouse yeh knew'll eventually get what's comin t'-'im." she gave a nod, "Sorreh t'be disturbin yeh, m'lord... I'll let yeh get back to yeh book."
"Thank ye for th' 'ospitality, ma'am." he inclined his head, and, with that, she parted ways and continued with her work.
"Finneas almost killed someone dear to you?" Sidney's amazed voice spoke up quietly from behind him and off to the side. "When was that?"
Dorias turned to regard his former Slave Master; the young fox's emerald eyes were wide in surprise-- childish awe, the yak noticed. It was a trait he hoped Sidney would never lose. From any other muzzle, Dorias would have expected the words to have been either sarcastic or self-promoting, but he knew the fox well enough that they were decidedly genuine. "Ye should know, Sidney... ye were there."
The fox's head cocked to the side, "I thought I'd remember something like that..." his ears drooped slight as his face scrunched up, "I'm SURE I would remember it... the only time he ever attacked someone was--" Dorias was unable to restrain a smile any longer, and that single expression gave the answer away, "Oh..." and the fox blushed immediately, "You mean ME."
"Is it that 'ard t'believe that I value ye?" the yak inquired, motioning across the table to the bench the inn keep's wife had vacated.
Sidney sat obediently, "I..." he paused, ears falling slightly in embarrassment, "I guess we ARE friends... right?"
Dorias chuckled and reopened his book, turning it around so the fox could see it, and then pointed to a passage, "Aye, Sidney... we're friends... an' don't ye think that ye be anythin' other than what ye are-- ye mean a lot t' a lot a people." he smiled, "Now work on some words with me before bed."
Sidney glanced at him, blushing slightly, hiding his embarrassment by looking down at the book and then the words. The fox peered closer to the tome and to the passage where Dorias had gestured and his ears went up immediately, "This is Prossian!" he stated in amazement.
"I figured ye may be gettin' tired a learnin 'ow t'read in Vensian..." the old yak smiled, reaching forward to tussle the fox's mane, "Since we're restin' our bodies for th'night it seemed fair t'let ye rest ye mind a bit."
Sidney's tail lashed from left to right off the side of the bench as he looked over the book; Dorias had chosen it for a reason, and was able to register the very moment the fox noticed what the yak had expected him to, "These words here are Vensian." the blunt claw on Sidney's index finger tapped the page, "That says Soraani."
"Aye... So it does." Dorias kept the knowing smile from his lips, "Read th' entire paragr--"
"That word is 'Fildoma'." the fox's gaze slowly rose up to meet the yak's. He didn't say a word, but his expression said more than enough. Dorias knew... and the fox knew he knew. Sidney's paw went to his chest where the yak knew he had been marked-- despite the fact that it wasn't glowing, they both knew what was there. When he finally DID speak, the fox's words were hesitant, and slightly uneven, "How long... have you know?"
"About th' same time I realized that Lord Talvin's still alive." Dorias watched Sidney's expression closely as he said the words. Although the yak was nearly certain that the fox knew the truth, he realized that the young vulpine's expression would say far more than his words... he was too genuine for anything else. Dorias was not disappointed.
"Lord Talvin is alive?" Sidney gaped... a little too theatrically.
"Lyin' be not somethin' that comes naturally to ye, Sidney." the yak offered patiently as the fox wilted, obviously able to tell he'd been caught, "We both know Lord Talvin's alive, an' I think ye have some reason ye don't discuss it."
Sidney shifted his posture, obviously uncomfortable at the direction the talk had gone. The fox swallowed once, then again before speaking, "I--" but Dorias raised a hand to silence him.
"Ye don't 'ave'ta speak on it, Sidney... ye don't seem th'kind t'keep secrets without good reasons..." he leaned forward toward the fox with a faint smirk, "Just try t'keep em a little better in th'future."
The fox looked relieved immediately, but, a moment later his face contorted in confusion, "I didn't even know you knew." he admitted.
Dorias winked, "Never underestimate an old yak." and he motioned to the book, "Now let's not talk any more o' it..." his suggestion brought an obvious relief to the fox, whose ears almost returned to their casual position, "Keep readin'... ye gotta use th' skill if ye wanna pick it up right... sometimes th' 'ard stuff's th' most worth learnin'."
Sidney made several false starts as he attempted to make it through the two paragraphs that Dorias had selected. He tended to trip himself up on words with more than two syllables but, all in all, the yak was amazed at how quickly the young fox picked up his letters. It had taken Dorias years to learn more than the basic words but Sidney was a quick learner; Dorias was both amazed and humbled by that realization.
"Aye... very good, Sidney... very good." the yak felt a strange sense of pride as the fox completed fumbling his way through the passage, "Now keep goin'... look at th' next one."
As Dorias had expected, Sidney paused, and lowered his voice as he continued reading, "Despite the many mysteries of the world, magic is by far the most studied but least understood. Among the least secretive order of practitioners are the Soraani of Vensii. Known in their native laguage as 'Ones of Fate', the Soraani are recognized among the kingdoms for their fortune telling. Although identifiable powers vary from Soraan to Soraan, the common element that links them are the glyphs, symbols, and runes that manifest on their bodies. These are known as a Soraan's 'Fildoma'."
The fox looked up to Dorias, cocking his head to the side, "The men who write these books must know a lot..."
The yak chuckled softly in reaction to the fox's declaration, "Aye, Sidney... many of th' men 'oo write books be scholars. They know much, an' know others 'oo can tell em things they don't know... all for th' purpose a puttin' it down on paper. It's all t'learn an' t'-'elp others learn."
"Oh..." Sidney murmured, "...wow." and he looked back to the second paragraph, "A Soraan may have one or numerous Fildoma, but there has been no comparison made between the number of markings and the Sorran's power. Although the way a Fildoma manifests differs from Soraan to Soraan, they can be divided into categories based on where on their body the markings show. Soraani with markings on the paws or feet, for example, tend to be more inclined toward affecting fate; those who have markings on the head and face are more adept at seeing the results of actions taken by themselves or others; Soraani with markings on the chest--"
he fox looked up from his reading, "How do the scholars find out all of this?"
Dorias chuckled at the comment, "Well... from my experience, Sidney, scholars 'ave a way. Whether it's a lot of studyin' or a lot of experimentin' or a lot of talkin' t'others... scholars 'ave a way."
"Didn't you say your master before Lord Hector was a scholar?"
"Aye... he was." the yak nodded, "...of a sort.
Sidney placed his paw on the page to keep his place in the book, obviously looking for something else to say. The fox's hesitation on continuing the passage was obvious, and Dorias took the hint; it was a private matter.
"Ye ken borrow th' book if ye like, Sidney." the yak smiled.
"Really?" his ears went up.
"Aye." Dorias chuckled softly, "I'm thinkin' it's best if ye know a little more about what it means t' 'ave that mark."
Sidney's tail lashed from side to side eagerly as he closed the book with his fingers still in place, "Thank you, Dorias!" he noted excitedly as he climbed back over the bench.
"Oh, Sidney..." the yak called to him before he could run off. The fox turned around and Dorias lowered his voice for the next few words, "Fair t'say Lord Talvin be Bane?"
Sidney paused, and hesitantly nodded, "Yea."
Dorias smiled reassuringly, "Alright... off ye go."
The fox didn't, rather, he stood there a moment, his paw clutching the tome, "You already read this whole page... didn't you?"
The yak smiled and nodded, imitating the fox's, "Yea." Sidney's ears reddened more than they already had. Dorias couldn't help but admit that there were many traits he admired about his former slave master and the fox's emotional transparency was just one of those. Dorias knew that helping Sidney understand himself better wouldn't ever come close to paying the fox back for all he'd done for the yak, but the old man was a patient fellow and Sidney didn't seem to mind having him tag along.
Dorias had spent the past several days wondering at his motivation for helping the fox. At first, he considered repayment to be the general reason but, as time went by and they spent hours, days, and even weeks together, the yak was starting to understand a more general truth: the pride he felt when he saw Sidney succeed, he realized, must have been what a father felt for a son.
Dorias had no children he could ever call his own; if he had any offspring at all then they were another man's... property. Despite his years as a slave he had never had a chance to be anything more than that to anyone... until Sidney. The fox had come a long way on his own and, with luck, and some of Dorias help, he would get that much farther. Dorias would leave no legacy among children, but he had hope for Sidney.
The fox's Fildoma was one of the rarest, and also one of the most dangerous. He had provided Sidney a book that explained the most basic understanding of the Soraani, but kept the most detailed one to himself. All the fox would likely discover from the borrowed book was something the yak was willing to wager he already knew; Soraani such as he were linked to spirits of the recently deceased; the could sometimes recall things from memories of those with whom they could associate and, the rarest of the rare could even channel those spirits.
It was dangerous because it often created a disconnect from the living, and more than one Soraan gave themselves over to death in favor of remaining alive. Dorias was not about to let that happen. Despite a life that could easily have broken Sidney and events that, by all rights should have ended him, the fox persevered. Sidney was still young, and he had a chance to create a happiness for himself that had not existed as short a time ago as a season past. If the yak was able to help, even in some small way, he could think of no finer way to repay what Sidney had done for him.
* * * * * *
The two story inn was a novelty for Maern, and an unwelcome one at that. Vensii had its share of multilevel structures, but most were built into the ground, not up above it. Something about the way the floor creaked and shifted beneath his hooves had the stallion concerned that, at any moment, the wood could give way and leave him plummeting to the real ground; Maern had never cared much for heights. Letting out a steady breath, the horse took a seat on the single strip of rug that sat at the foot of his bed. He closed his eyes, understanding that the ways of the Prossians were different than his own, and focused on finding his center.
"The Road of the Warrior has but one destination, and that end is death." he murmured, remembering how much that sentence had scared him back when he was an untrained colt lifting a sword for the first time. His land's warlord had sent callers through the village where Maern had been born taking all able bodied men... and boys; he had seen ten summers, but they called on him as well. He had first heard the Warrior's Prayer spoken by one of the men who had taken him and he was made to commit it to memory.
"Every battle is one more step." the prayer continued. Life, he knew, was a battle-- every conflict brought with it a choice, and that choice was a fight in and of itself. Maern had won many battles in his time and he had lost more than he'd cared to consider. To him, it meant that it was one more fight behind him, and one less ahead.
"All warriors walk this road, never knowing how many steps they may take until they reach that end." eyes still closed, the stallion craned his ears as the handle on the door to the room turned. The slow, meticulous opening of the door allowed Maern to realize that it was Lord Sidney-- as his bonded lord the fox had a way about him... soft... almost meek. Maern had been bound before, but never to someone for whom he felt protective; Lord Sidney reminded him of a lilly growing in the early spring snow: delicate and beautiful, and in need of nurturing. The fox was also the first and only male he had ever found the world 'beautiful' befitting.
"If I arrive today, then I give thanks to the warrior who ends my weary travels." The line, Maern felt, was one of the most important passages within the prayer. Despite what side of a fight he found himself, the stallion believed with all his heart that any and every warrior on the battlefield was family. Few others in the world would ever truly understand a warrior like a fellow warrior, and for that, all were worthy of respect. Maern heard Sidney close the door quietly, latching it after he did. "If I bring an end to my foe's journey then may his rest be well-earned." he continued, heedless of his bonded lord, who, as gracefully as any dancer, moved near-silent across the floor boards. Maern knew, as a warrior, that his life was not his own to do with as he would; the only rest a warrior ever WOULD receive would be once the fighting was done-- when he fell during battle in service to his bonded lord.
He finally opened his eyes, only to find Lord Sidney seated across from him on the rug. The fox wore a smile that should have been telling but, as with all other moments Maern had ever spent with his bonded lord, what it told was something the stallion simply couldn't figure out.
"If our meeting parts us on the road we both still travel--" Maern went to continue, but Lord Sidney cut him off.
"Then I wish him well and pray he finds the end as I wish to find my own." the fox said the words for him. Maern was astounded at how cleanly his bonded lord had managed to erase any of the normally haughty-tone with which the Prossians spoke his language. That Lord Sidney would also be so quickly to memorize the Warrior's Prayer was nothing short of astounding-- no other bonded lord the stallion had known had ever so much as bothered to try.
"With honor." Maern confirmed, smiling just a little to himself as Lord Sidney spoke the words with him. 'Min sarul', the stallion had learned, meant far more to the Vensians than the people of Pross and yet, whenever Maern doubted the kingdom he had only to look at the fox sitting across from him and realized that at least one other understood.
The stallion's smile grew wider and warmer as the fox blushed slightly; Maern had never known a bonded lord to blush in the way the fox could. Despite the ways in which Lord Sidney seemed feminine, he was just as much a man... perhaps the most courageous the stallion had ever met. Despite Lord Sidney's small frame and gentle ways the fox was willing to subject himself to danger for those he cared about-- and that, surprisingly included Maern.
Although Lord Hector had explained to the stallion that the ways of Pross were different from Vensii, Maern had seen enough to know that the men and women called 'slaves' were not so different from warriors in that they were tools for those who claimed them. The fact the Prossians' bodies were used for more than war seemed unspectacular compared to the understanding that anyone could be a slave... but in Vensii not everyone could be a warrior.
"Gralz is asleep." the stallion announced, motioning with a faint incline of his nose toward the sleeping wolverine; he had passed out nearly an hour before, and, as far as Maern could tell, he was dead to the world. The stallion hadn't been able to sleep so soundly in any recollection he had.
"Oh..." Lord Sidney acknowledged, eyes glancing to the wolverine then back to the stallion, lowering his voice, "Okay." and he smiled, "I just came to say hello." and, following that up, he grinned wider, "Hello, Maern." the fox spoke softly in Vensian. It was the kind of greeting reserved for friends, not for a bond lord to his bonded warrior. Despite the way in which Lord Sidney spoke to him, or perhaps because of it, the stallion respected him greatly.
"Hell-oh, Lord Sid-ney." Maern sounded the words out in Prossian. It was a strange language, with a flowery quality that couldn't be found anywhere in his native tongue. It reminded him of the fox seated before him.
His bonded lord's smile lessened just a little at the greeting. Tilting his head inquisitively to the side, Lord Sidney blinked, "Why do you say that?" he asked, the words flowing from him in Vensian as if he'd been born to them.
"Say what?" the stallion inquired, his own ears raising.
"You say 'Lord Sid-ney'." the fox responded, imitating his tone and voice with the Prossian word for 'lord'.
"Is it being spoken poorly?" Maern inquired, "Your forgiveness if it is."
"You could just call me Sidney." his bonded lord replied, "Like everyone else."
"Everyone else is everyone else." the stallion countered.
"WHY do you even call me 'Lord Sidney'?" the fox asked, dropping the imitation of Maern's tone as he questioned him candidly.
"Is that a bad title to use here?" the warrior inquired, "What does a bound warrior call his bond lord in Pross?"
"A what?" Lord Sidney inquired, his face scrunching up slightly as his ears twisted inward. Maern had long since come to recognize the expression as one of confusion; he had witnessed it often enough.
"How is it spoken in Prossian?" the stallion paused, then shrugged, "Lord." he spoke in Prossian, "That is the right word... yes?"
"Lord." the fox repeated in Vensian, "But I am not your lord."
"In what sense?" the stallion asked. Sidney paused, his face scrunching again as he slowly repeated the Vensian words; Maern realized that his wording had confused his bonded lord, "What do you mean?" he tried again.
"Lord Hector was your lord." Sidney responded, "But he freed you."
"Lord Heck-tor was YOUR Lord." Maern countered, "...and I was not his to free."
"What do you mean?" it was Sidney's turn to use the words, and he quickly followed up with "In what sense?"
"Lord Heck-tor said you paid to have me taken from the place he called 'The Slave Pits'." the stallion said calmly, resting a hand on either of his knees as he watched the fox for a reaction or recollection; he got one.
"That was with his money." Lord Sidney responded simply.
"Yes." Maern nodded in return, "But YOUR decision."
"But... it wasn't a decision." the fox countered, "It was a..." he paused, frustration playing across his delicate features; the stallion maintained maintained a neutral position to his face to avoid drawing attention to how much he enjoyed his bonded lord's expressions, "The right word isn't known to me."
Maern knew precisely the word his bonded lord was seeking, "It was a 'compulsion'."
Lord Sidney repeated it twice, then nodded, offering up the same word in Prossian, "Yes." he confirmed, "It was a compulsion."
"Why were you compelled?" the stallion asked plainly.
The fox had several false-starts in his attempt to explain. At first, Maern thought that it may have been a grasp of the Vensian language that his bonded lord lacked but, the stallion quickly realized that it was more of an emotional issue as Lord Sidney began to tear up. "The..." the fox spoke quietly, "The way they were treating you... it wasn't something I could bear to witness, and... and it had to be stopped."
"Yes." Maern nodded, inclining his head with reverence, "And THAT is why you are my bond lord, my lord."
Sidney's face scrunched up again in confusion, one ear falling sideways, "That makes no sense." he spoke quietly.
"It makes all sense." Maern countered, "Lord Heck-tor said that death was what awaited me if I had not been purchased... I was what he called a 'lot sevin-tin'."
"Lot seventeen." Sidney corrected, then paused, going pale, whispering Prossian words out in a heavy breath before switching back to Vensian, "...the rumors were true then." "Rumors?" Maern raised his ears in what he'd come to understand as polite questioning among the Prossians; to him it felt needlessly insistent.
"Slaves always said that the slavers had a way to mark the ones that they weren't going to keep trying to sell... and..." he swallowed what was obviously a hint of discomfort that had found its way into his voice, "...and I guess it makes sense that they would save it for the last lot of any..." the fox paused, and used a Prossian word, "auction." then quickly added, "I don't know the right Vensian word for a place people go and try to outdo others on how much they would like to pay for something."
"Haggling?" Maern offered.
"Haggling is what buyers do with sellers... but an 'auction' is where many buyers keep offering more and more so they can get what the seller has to sell and--" the fox sighed and rolled his eyes, "Never mind... I'm not very good at explaining things."
"No, Lord Sid-ney... I understand." the stallion offered with a patient smile.
"What I mean is-- how does buying you from the pit make me a lord?" the fox questioned, both ears facing forward once again.
"You saved my life." Maern offered calmly, "And you paid coin for me."
"That makes you a slave." Lord Sidney stated simply, "...and Lord Hector already said you aren't one anymore."
"I am a warrior." the stallion declared, "There is no word for 'slave' in Vensian." he explained, the Prossian word had always felt strange in his muzzle, and he did not care for what he knew it to mean, "You paid for me with coin, and you have saved my life... those are two of three reasons for me to be bound to you, Lord Sidney."
"But it wasn't even my coin." the fox offered in a tone that spoke for his concern over the difference despite the fact that Maern felt none.
"Coin belongs to no man." the stallion responded, "My last bond lord purchased me from a dungeon. He used coin he had taken from a travel after killing him. That you should use coin that was freely given to you makes no difference."
Maern had always found great wisdom in the way Lord Sidney took the time to consider his words. While lesser men might have called the fox thick or hesitant, the stallion was amazed at how much effort his bond lord put into considering what he wanted to say. When Lord Sidney finally did speak, his next comment was both obvious and insightful, "Whose coin it is doesn't matter... the fact that I was willing to part with it is why I'm your bond lord."
"One of three reasons, yes." the stallion nodded.
"And the second was because I saved your life." Lord Sidney reiterated.
"Yes, Lord Sid-ney." Maern bowed his head again, "The way of the warrior is mind, body, and soul." he explained, "A warrior may only achieve peace in the afterlife if he is willing to endure chaos and pain in life. We face the battlefield because we are warriors and, in so doing, we secure a place for our souls when our path in life comes to an end."
"I... I paid for your body..." Lord Sidney hesitated on the words, as if they held a different meaning for him, "and... when I did I saved your soul?"
"Yes, Lord Sid-ney. With the purchase of my body you secure my soul." the stallion smiled, having been told the way of the warrior on many occasions, but rarely had he ever had the opportunity to explain it... and never to a non-warrior. It felt reaffirming to discuss his faith with the only bond lord that treated him as something more than he was. "My bond to you is because you have saved my life-- by choosing me I likewise choose you, and so we are bound." he attempted to keep the words simple, as his bond lord was not familiar with Vensian.
It seemed to be enough, because the fox was nodding, "Then... you are... bonded to me?"
"Yes, my Lord." Maern confirmed, gazing straight into the fox's glimmering green eyes, "Mind, body, and soul, I am your tool... your weapon... your shield."
Lord Sidney slowly stood, rising up so he could look at Maern in the eyes; the stallion could not remember the last time the fox had done so without immediately turning away. Something about the fox's gaze was enthralling, almost hypnotizing, and he was surprised that he could suddenly no more manage to look away than his bond lord had been able to hold the stallions gaze when they had first met.
"Can I release you from your bond?" the fox spoke at length, slowly reaching out a paw to rest on Maern's forearm.
The stallion felt his ears jump to attention in concern, "Have I offended you, my Lord?"
"No." Lord Sidney's tone was calm, and strangely soothing when combined with the odd, almost otherworldly smile, "I just cannot think that anyone should have to be sworn to another for any reason."
"I..." Maern was at a loss, "I do not understand."
"You say you are bound to me." the fox said quietly, "and that you are mine. But I don't want a tool... or a weapon... or a shield." he cleared his throat hesitantly, his voice cracking faintly, "I want a friend. I want you to be free and happy."
Maern's ears turned more fully toward his bond lord, "You doubt that I am not already free and happy, Lord Sid-ney?"
"You are bound..." the fox murmured, eyes finally quitting the gaze as he released his hold on the stallion' arm; Maern somehow felt less for it.
"Lord Heck-tur has freed you..." he offered, extending his hand to rest it on the fox's shoulder, "and you still travel with him."
"I am a free man." Lord Sidney nodded, his tail lashing with obvious joy at being able to say it, "It's my choice."
"If you freed me from my bond," Maern stated firmly, "then I would still travel with you."
The fox half-nodded at that, then paused. The stallion watched his bond lord's eyes gleam faintly, a soft, inner-greenish light creating a corona of illumination, and he heard Lord Sidney's next breath as he spoke words in Prossian, "But he's a slave, Tharis... you heard him say he--"
Maern snapped Lord Sidney from the Soraan trance by giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. The fox blinked twice and returned his gaze to the stallion, "It is by my will that I am bound to you, my Lord. Freedom or no, I am by your side."
The fox's ears reddened and his tail tucked ever-so-slightly, "I..." Lord Sidney paused, then tried again, "What did I do to deserve someone like you?" Maern was not surprised to see that his bond lord's eyes were damp.
The horse smiled; Lord Sidney truly was an amazing man, "You are you." he responded, "And that is all you need to be."
The fox took a step closer and, before the stallion realized it, had him in an embrace. Lord Sidney didn't sob or sniffle, he simply remained where he was, his muzzle pressed against Maern's shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. It took a few moments for the stallion to realize how much the fox must have thought of him for such a personal act, and he remained patiently still as his bond lord gave physical form to that fondness.
"Hey... horse." the voice was spoken from somewhere, but not in any direction that Maern could discern. It was a voice he had heard back within the stables, but not since the owner of it had died in the arena. He felt Sidney's chest against his own, the freezing burn of the fox's glyph was unmistakable, and the surreal mind-fog that accompanied the tingles throughout his body made the voice that much more real, "Hug him back, you thick-headed dolt." Maern had not known Tharis for long, but the direct comment sounded very much like him.
Sliding his arms around the slight form of his bond lord was an awkward action for Maern to undertake; he hadn't embraced another man since his father, and that was over fifteen years past. It was embarrassing in a way, and alien. The way the fox melted within his arms, however felt so very different, and the emotions it raised within him were more than confusing... even so, the soft smile he felt against his shoulder made it all worth while.
At length, Lord Sidney disengaged, the fox's stance slightly askew as he pulled at his open vest, covering up the Fildoma that identified him as much more than the dainty, unassuming fox most thought him to be. "Good night, Maern."
"Goodnight, my lor--" but the stallion's words stopped coming when Sidney went up to his tip toes and pressed his muzzle to the horse's. If the hug had stunned Maern, the kiss was enough to bring every last thought in his mind to a screeching halt. Lord Sidney pulled back almost as quickly as he'd engaged the action, ears reddening immediately before he took a quick step away, turning about and heading immediately to the door.
Maern watched him leave, coming to the realization that Lord Sidney would keep him guessing far longer than any other man ever had-- not only was he uncertain about the fox but, based on his body's unexpected response to his bond lord's closeness, he was, for the first time in a long time, just a little uncertain of himself. He found the usually frustrating situation surprisingly... Sidney-like.