Note: This chapter contains strong and discriminatory language, a side character that consumed so much alcohol until his speech turns incoherent, disrespect towards an elder, druge usage by a side character, and acts of discrimination towards an outsider. Please proceed with caution.
Corrin and the group looked up, all clutching their bottles or mugs of wine as the chief's servant clapped his hands again. The sun was setting in the distance, only a few minutes earlier than last night. Another servant raised his voice to the highest pitch that his register could meet and cried over the market.
"THE TASK IS COMPLETE. RETURN TO THE WAR CAMP IMMEDIATELY," he bellowed, making some men jump in their spots. He turned it off with his wand and began coughing, rubbing his throat.
"Stand, men." Another servant ordered, sending a few others to organize them in a half circle. Tugan pulled a log up for them to sit, but Corrin pushed them back.
"What a kind gesture for the elderly, Tugan!" he exclaimed, giving him a quick look. He still wasn't used to his curls not hiding his expressions anymore. A servant overheard them and smiled before he began to lead the older men to the seats on the log as Tori and Gillot pulled them towards a spot in the front.
"We'll do this alphabetically," a servant said, taking and unfurling the long scroll of names, but his brow furrowed at the scrawl. "Deities, who wrote this? This is awful handwriting. And I asked for the alphabetical one! Must I repeat myself?"
"Give me that, you feeble illiteratus," another servant said, yanking the list from him. "What were you saying before? This is the alphabetical one, knave," he snapped before clearing his throat for the first name. "Abdy, Kei Junior."
Man after man, they passed through the list, each presenting their hands or a bottle or a mug for their chief to drink. He nodded at many, but for those who had bought white wine, not knowing his preferences, the wine was spilled into a bowl next to his chair, and the man was given zero marks. A few dalcops had drunk the wine on the way up the small hill, leaving them with nothing to present but random excuses.
An elder servant judged them all, yelling at those who had brought nothing, claiming they had humiliated their family name. The little boys who had been crying earlier had all returned with nothing but excuses and more tears, hardly even given mercy. At the chief's approval, a couple of them were let back home for failing the task. Some fathers held their sons back and forced them to stay despite their tears.
The friend-group did well, and all were approved. Corrin was the last of them to be judged, and he bowed to the chief, presenting his full bottle. It was opened by a servant and drank by their cheif, even though it was becoming obvious how drunk he was becoming from it all. His beard was even stained with red. The chief wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded, the bottle being handed back to Corrin.
The servant squinted at the next name. "Ah, do I really have to call him?"
"Yes, that's me," Sachse said, raising a hand lazily towards the shoulders of the men around him as he stood, sucking in a breath against any pain he still held. He knocked his shoulder between Corrin and another man as he walked to present his bottle, locking eyes with the chief as he kneeled, keeping his head high. "The freshest red, what you like and requested."
A few men muttered, trying to get their white wine swapped, trying to keep it a secret that they could get cut out for being shown up by the local outcast. A few traditional ones whispered about the disrespect. What was he doing? Is he trying to get beheaded?
The bottle was opened and the chief drank a quarter of it in one gulp. It looked like he was going to swallow it before he motioned for Sachse to stand and step forward.
Corrin flinched as the wine was spit back into his face, leaving him stumbling and wiping his face with his shirt once he stood straight. Corrin noticed a few servants flinching, stopping themselves from helping him, and he dug his own foot into the ground, reminding himself to do the same thing. He couldn't help him now. He couldn't do anything.
"Serves you right, bitch." the chief swore, unaware of his words slurring. "And I'll keep this." He set the bottle next to his chair and waved him away. "Get away now. What are you waiting for?"
Corrin's feet moved before he could realize. What was he doing? For him? What would they say?
Making a split-second decision, he grabbed Sachse's shirt and pulled him into a one-armed hug, trying to smile like the others had done all these years.
"Come on, bitch. No use standing there any longer." He grinned down at him before he pulled him back to where he had been standing.
"Ack! Get off me!" he cried, playing along, but Corrin kept his grip slack, keeping him up once they met the gang again. They began to tease him, but a servant hushed them as he passed by. The next man was called as if nothing had happened, and Corrin leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"I didn't mean to do that. I moved without thinking."
"A likely story," he looked around at the boys around them and smiled. "You had a good cover-up, meanwhile."
"Why, thank you. I have a lot of inspiration around me."
Sachse wiped his mouth and looked up at him. "Don't smile, asshole. I'm the outcast, remember?"
"That's all anyone sees you as."
"Except you."
"Except me." Corrin grinned and dropped him, forcing a laugh when he fell face-first in mud. The rest of the group laughed among themselves, hushing each other at once as a servant passed, kicking some more mud towards Sachse.
Finally, the last man was called, having nothing to show for it and was kicked out. The chief was incredibly drunk by this end, motioning with his hands and trying to speak, but couldn't sound coherent. Still, a man spoke up, holding a half-full bottle.
"What was that for?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, but he only heard incoherent babbling as his answer.
A servant spoke for him, his ability activated. "Our chief says that he wanted to…test how fast you could reply to a task like that. Clearly, some didn't get the lesson." He glared at a few men, but continued speaking. "Besides, he wanted wine. It's been a long day."
Another servant gathered their attention and asked for silence. "I agree, it's been a long day. Let us retire for the night. As you can see, tents have already been set up. We'll split you by age group. For starters, those under fifteen. Step ahead."
They continued through the line, fifteen, then twenty-five, then thirty-five, and so on to sixty-three. A couple of servants placed the chief in his own tent to sleep away the alcohol, while Corrin was pushed into a tent with Argat, Tori, Gillot, and Remon. A few servants kept pacing through, yelling how this was temporary and to hush up at a few gossipers. A couple of blankets were thrown into a few tents, and arguments erupted all over, all the same.
Corrin grabbed one quickly as Argat and Gillot had grabbed different ends of the same one and began yelling over it. Remon hit both of them over the head and gave them different ones. They had just settled down to sleep when someone crouched before the opening, standing on his toes. It was Sachse, his bruises looking worse under the starlight.
"Can I stay here? They kicked me out." He looked at Corrin, begging without speaking, but he had to smile. He had to play along.
Sachse fell as he was kicked in the shin. Corrin laughed, hating himself for that. It wasn't the first time, but it never made it better.
"What makes you think you can do that?" he snapped, regretting every word, but not able to show it in front of them. "You were kicked out for a reason."
"Go sleep in the forest, queer." Remon laughed, snapping his sap again before he spat it towards him, grinning.
Tori sat higher and pushed him out of the opening, causing him to fall after he'd tried to stand. Sachse glared at everyone except Corrin before he left, leaving the four laughing all the way.