And the epilogue.
Epilogue. Takes place after the final chapter, a few hours after. I have snippets in my head of what happens over the years and different things that I might come back to expound on, but I think those will probably be drabble type things.
“So the major difference between being a personal servant and being a slave is taxes. I have to pay taxes on having a slave right, but a servant earns a wage and pays his own damned taxes, and sometimes it’s simply cheaper to hire a servant than have a ton of slaves running around that you have to feed and care for and pay taxes on.”
Seifer sat, eating bits of dinner between expounding on the life of freemen. Snow sat and picked at his food, struggling not to shift in the chair. He had never sat in a chair before and it was… strange.
“And of course there are contracts. A freeman takes on contracts with his employers and pays penalties if he breaks contract, so always read the fine print on those, which reminds me, we better teach you to read. Writing is pretty optional, you can hire a scribe to write something, I’ve heard of lords who never bothered to learn to write cause they have too damned much that they have to get on paper that speaking and have good scribes is like, easier, but anyway, you have to be able to read the basics and write your own name in order to take a contract and not get screwed.”
The brunette nodded and poked at his meat with a bemused air. He was holding the fork wrong he knew but having only ever used a knife and his fingers before it was an adjustment to this pronged instrument. And the meal was different from anything he’d ever had; more meat and seasoned with something salty and spicy, there was some grain that was tiny and round and flavored with spices and ground cheese. He thought the green spears were aspagard but they were mushy and tasted of butter. He wasn’t sure he liked them, though aspagard was one of his favorite wild vegetables.
“And colors are a thing. A wandering freeman can wear whatever he wants, and if you like, start your own business and stuff you can wear guild colors or pay for a title and make your own colors but that’s not so common. Usually the only people who do that are the rich freemen who want to cater to nobles without actually taking contracts. If you’re under contract you may or may not have to wear your employers colors; that’s part of the fine print I was talking about.”
That made a certain amount of sense, and he already knew that a slave wore what his owner wanted him to, regardless of color. It was still confusing, how did one know whose colors they might or might not be wearing? Was there a place to learn who had what colors or did the style matter as well? He’d seen merchants selling clothing in the town so they must have some knowledge of the matter.
“Try the coiscois, it’s a Wutai specialty I think. Not from Acadia anyway and it’s good, though more popular the more west you go. I had some before but it wasn’t flavored like this, more basil and garlic than I think.”
He assumed Seifer was talking about the grain and wondered if he was supposed to attempt to eat it with the fork… oh, no, the spoon apparently, though he’d always thought that was for things like soup.
“So what do you think so far? Anything in particular you want to do with your life? Open a fortune telling shop? Become a hermit? Raise chocobo’s?”
Snow pondered the question, still getting used to having a name at all, though he wasn’t sure of its suitability. What was snow? He’d heard of it through the wind, cold and white, but had no real concept of the stuff. He still felt like a slave. He doubted the true depth of this new state of being would settle for a long time. He had the habits and compulsions, the behaviors of a slave. It wasn’t in his nature to let these things go.
Hesitantly, he sought to answer the questions posed to him. He had no plans, no desires that he could place in words. “I… don’t know.” The princess had offered him a place on her staff, but the idea of working for a woman; a powerful, political, and *foreign* woman, sent chills down his spine. As a slave he could have endured because he had no choice, but to *choose* to place himself in such a place… and probably behind these walls more often than not, was enough to give him nightmares.
“Well, we’ve got some time. I can probably stay here about a week, maybe, before running off to Acadia and Odin knows where after that. For now we’ll just say you’re my friend and adviser and that’s why you haven’t gone out to the city for a stay. Which reminds me, I have to go the Knight Counsel tomorrow and withdraw some funds. Better set you up an account to. The Knight Counsel is like a bank for wandering freemen. You don’t want to have your money on you when you travel, and unless you’ve got land and stuff it’s simply easier to set things up with them and let them guard your gold until you need it. And there’s a branch in every major city and capital of the four nations. At least, I think so, there’s always been one wherever I go.”
Land? He knew that the Outsiders had a system of governing the land and that only nobles or the very rich had land, but it still seemed odd to him. The clans had territory, and were constantly feuding and making treaties in order to expand that territory, but no one *owned* the land. If one wanted to farm where another was hunting, they simply competed for it or compromised. No one told them where they could or couldn’t eke out an existence.
The idea of owning anything was a bit odd. As a slave he’d never owned anything, and now his friend was speaking about gold like it was some form of life’s blood. Maybe it was for a freeman. The Outlanders didn’t especially value the metal except in trading because steel and iron were much more useful. Even copper and bronze were harder and tougher and more adaptable. Gold was good for money and the Outlanders used money far less than simple trade and barter.
“Hey. While we’re out, we should probably get you some stuff, new clothes, decent leathers and maybe a chocobo. I’m certainly not averse to trading in that red for something a bit more comfortable, I swear his back was trying to imprint on my crotch.”
That wasn’t fair to the poor chocobo. Seifer was just too large and heavy for the slightly built red. And with them both riding double he was fairly amazed the poor thing hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion. Of course, the bird wasn’t Seifer’s to trade away, it belonged to Tseng; and he struggled even in his mind to not refer to the dark Wutain as ‘the sorcerer’. He let the bland look and slightly quirked eyebrow tell the blond what he though of selling Tseng’s poor beast.
“See, I know you’re laughing at me even if you can’t smile. Fine, new clothes, new birds, an account with the Knights, what else, getting rid of those damned bits of bronze and maybe a decent haircut. Some good knives, I don’t think a gun is a good idea and I’m a bit fonder of blades myself, though I probably *should* have some sidearm now.”
The blond kept thinking aloud but Snow was lost in his own thoughts again, free hand fingering the bronze collar with trembling fingers. It wasn’t much, the collar and cuffs were hardly valuable in and of themselves, but they symbolized his place in life. Could he sell them? Could he even take them off? Yesterday the thought would never have crossed his mind, the weight of the metal a fact of his world, a foundation that was slightly more welcome than the heavier iron they’d left behind with his old clan.
Even without the dressing of slavery he still bore the scars of his life. Whatever power had allowed the blond healer to fix his legs and the damage of years that had left him a wasted figure, it had not erased the sins written in his skin. The scars from his punishments remained, as well as the brand on his back. He would never be able to escape the past, no matter how he lived now.
“Princess? You okay? The whole spacing out thing really doesn’t bug me as much as it should but you might want to watch it around other people or they’ll think you’re simple.” The blond smiled and tapped his own temple before poking Snow’s forehead playfully.
The brunette frowned at him a little, mildly reproachful of the touch and sighed to himself. Seifer was a touchy person, effusive with his emotions and fiercely protective. Though he’d tempered himself in front of the... in front of Tseng, Seifer was not one to hold back on the casual touch and Snow was slowly becoming accustomed to it, though from strangers he still felt the instinctive need to flinch.
“You know, it’s too bad the Clan elders didn’t have much cash to pay me with. I’ll need to figure out a way to earn enough to keep up in appearances. I just know these uppity types are gonna use anything they can to bring the Outlands to heel instead of treating them as equals.”
This time Snow did sigh. Tseng must not have gone into the details of this ambassadorial mission but the Outlands were not in fact poor. Distinct and isolationistic perhaps but far from poor. Most of the things that the Outsiders seemed to value as wealth were simply in care of the Church. The Church acted as the Knights Counsel for the Clan elders and he *knew* that Seifer had an account with the Church. The clan elders had given him gold for traveling, assuming that he would charge whatever goods he needed to the Church upon arrival in the Outsider’s nations.
“Okay, what did I do this time? Come on Princess I’m not a mind reader here, you have to actually *speak* to me sometimes.”
With another long suffering sigh to himself he set the strange eating utensils down and pushed aside the plate of half eaten food. Seifer’s plate held nothing but crumbs despite the amount of talking he’d done during the meal.
“Talk to the temples. They have a line to the Church and you’re accounts. The Church set it up long ago for the traders on ship who dock in the southern ports. The larger temples keep up with the logs in the Church.” His mother had married a trader and he’d heard from others over the years how the system worked. Slaves were not usually encouraged to understand the workings of such things, but some were made to keep records. And slaves talked amongst themselves, though usually not where the masters could hear, and not to him. He’d been ostracized because of his master’s need for absolute control.
“See, I told that albino that I needed you around!” At Snow’s befuddled look the blond scratched his head and laughed a little helplessly. “The king man, the king, you never got a good look did you? Pale as ice, silver hair, bleached skin, I swear he sees the sun less than you do, and glowing green eyes. Like that slaves were before he fixed you. Except like, steady glowing. Freaky if you ask me. Course it’s not like you can point and stare at a king. At least, I don’t think you can.”
Snow’s bland look returned. A slave did not look upon a king. Not that the Outlands had a king or even such a law and the Outsiders may not have the same kind of respect laws but he assumed that a king was the same rank as a priest or a Daughter of Hyne, whom only the clan elders could look upon. Most certainly a slave would never presume to meet such a person’s eyes. Would a mere mortal stare at the sun? Not without going blind. Same reasoning.
“Anyway. I’ve been meaning to ask, want to come with me? At least until this whole thing in Acadia is settled? You know I have no clue what I’m doing right? And it’s true, the Clan Elders trust you a lot more than me. You know what your people need more than I do.” The man looked sheepish and earnest, a particularly cute expression that Snow had never seen on him before. Usually the somewhat arrogant bastard could hardly care less what others thought of him. It was a small part of his charm.
The former slave thought hard about the proposition. He knew his people far better than any of these Outsiders, a reason for him being sent as a gift in the first place. He couldn’t very well return to his homeland, he’d be seized as a runaway and sent back as a slave gift again. He didn’t understand the Outsiders well enough to fend for himself, and the idea of staying with the princess or anyone else in this bizarre place unnerved him. Seifer would care for him, allow him to brood in peace, at least for a while, and teach him the ways of these strangers. At the same time he would be able to serve his people and Church, and measure his gifts.
And as an Outlander, he had the leeway to act as a slave for the most part without being called on it because the Outsiders knew as much about him as he did they. He didn’t need to fear Seifer’s anger; the blond was rarely put out enough for violence though he reveled in a good fight.
With a small nod, Snow held out his hand to seal the bargain. “Okay.”
A strong, callused palm grasped his own for long seconds, Seifer’s smile threatening to split his face and making him appear a few years younger.
“Come on Princess. You can look *me* in the eye.”
Timid slate gray met amused emerald for a moment before skittering away, a pink stain spreading over Snow’s cheeks for a reason he couldn’t name. Seifer was like fire, something he couldn’t read or hear but was fascinated with anyway. Like fire the blond could very easily hurt him now that he wasn’t buried in the cold of nothingness.
“See? Nothing came to eat you, no lightening bolts, no heart attacks, nothing to worry about. Of course the blushing is cute enough to give a guy ideas so you might want to watch that around some of the rascals we’re bound to run into. I won’t have time to insult any hoity toady nobles if I’m busy defending your virtue.”
The teasing only made him blush harder and duck his head, tugging at his captured hand to pull his hood back up. He didn’t have any virtue to save.
“Awe, come on Princess, don’t hide from me now, you haven’t started teasing me back yet.”
The sigh wasn’t to himself this time but real and heartfelt and he rolled his eyes at the persistent bastard. “………Those same nobles are going to gut you before you get to prison. Aggravated mental damage from exposure to your stupidity, Lord Almasy.”
Green eyes blinked in shock before the big man crowed in delight. “I knew you were going to be alright!”
Letting Seifer’s laughter wash over him, Snow thought that, maybe, just maybe, he would be. For now anyway. He wasn’t selling his collar though.
“So the major difference between being a personal servant and being a slave is taxes. I have to pay taxes on having a slave right, but a servant earns a wage and pays his own damned taxes, and sometimes it’s simply cheaper to hire a servant than have a ton of slaves running around that you have to feed and care for and pay taxes on.”
Seifer sat, eating bits of dinner between expounding on the life of freemen. Snow sat and picked at his food, struggling not to shift in the chair. He had never sat in a chair before and it was… strange.
“And of course there are contracts. A freeman takes on contracts with his employers and pays penalties if he breaks contract, so always read the fine print on those, which reminds me, we better teach you to read. Writing is pretty optional, you can hire a scribe to write something, I’ve heard of lords who never bothered to learn to write cause they have too damned much that they have to get on paper that speaking and have good scribes is like, easier, but anyway, you have to be able to read the basics and write your own name in order to take a contract and not get screwed.”
The brunette nodded and poked at his meat with a bemused air. He was holding the fork wrong he knew but having only ever used a knife and his fingers before it was an adjustment to this pronged instrument. And the meal was different from anything he’d ever had; more meat and seasoned with something salty and spicy, there was some grain that was tiny and round and flavored with spices and ground cheese. He thought the green spears were aspagard but they were mushy and tasted of butter. He wasn’t sure he liked them, though aspagard was one of his favorite wild vegetables.
“And colors are a thing. A wandering freeman can wear whatever he wants, and if you like, start your own business and stuff you can wear guild colors or pay for a title and make your own colors but that’s not so common. Usually the only people who do that are the rich freemen who want to cater to nobles without actually taking contracts. If you’re under contract you may or may not have to wear your employers colors; that’s part of the fine print I was talking about.”
That made a certain amount of sense, and he already knew that a slave wore what his owner wanted him to, regardless of color. It was still confusing, how did one know whose colors they might or might not be wearing? Was there a place to learn who had what colors or did the style matter as well? He’d seen merchants selling clothing in the town so they must have some knowledge of the matter.
“Try the coiscois, it’s a Wutai specialty I think. Not from Acadia anyway and it’s good, though more popular the more west you go. I had some before but it wasn’t flavored like this, more basil and garlic than I think.”
He assumed Seifer was talking about the grain and wondered if he was supposed to attempt to eat it with the fork… oh, no, the spoon apparently, though he’d always thought that was for things like soup.
“So what do you think so far? Anything in particular you want to do with your life? Open a fortune telling shop? Become a hermit? Raise chocobo’s?”
Snow pondered the question, still getting used to having a name at all, though he wasn’t sure of its suitability. What was snow? He’d heard of it through the wind, cold and white, but had no real concept of the stuff. He still felt like a slave. He doubted the true depth of this new state of being would settle for a long time. He had the habits and compulsions, the behaviors of a slave. It wasn’t in his nature to let these things go.
Hesitantly, he sought to answer the questions posed to him. He had no plans, no desires that he could place in words. “I… don’t know.” The princess had offered him a place on her staff, but the idea of working for a woman; a powerful, political, and *foreign* woman, sent chills down his spine. As a slave he could have endured because he had no choice, but to *choose* to place himself in such a place… and probably behind these walls more often than not, was enough to give him nightmares.
“Well, we’ve got some time. I can probably stay here about a week, maybe, before running off to Acadia and Odin knows where after that. For now we’ll just say you’re my friend and adviser and that’s why you haven’t gone out to the city for a stay. Which reminds me, I have to go the Knight Counsel tomorrow and withdraw some funds. Better set you up an account to. The Knight Counsel is like a bank for wandering freemen. You don’t want to have your money on you when you travel, and unless you’ve got land and stuff it’s simply easier to set things up with them and let them guard your gold until you need it. And there’s a branch in every major city and capital of the four nations. At least, I think so, there’s always been one wherever I go.”
Land? He knew that the Outsiders had a system of governing the land and that only nobles or the very rich had land, but it still seemed odd to him. The clans had territory, and were constantly feuding and making treaties in order to expand that territory, but no one *owned* the land. If one wanted to farm where another was hunting, they simply competed for it or compromised. No one told them where they could or couldn’t eke out an existence.
The idea of owning anything was a bit odd. As a slave he’d never owned anything, and now his friend was speaking about gold like it was some form of life’s blood. Maybe it was for a freeman. The Outlanders didn’t especially value the metal except in trading because steel and iron were much more useful. Even copper and bronze were harder and tougher and more adaptable. Gold was good for money and the Outlanders used money far less than simple trade and barter.
“Hey. While we’re out, we should probably get you some stuff, new clothes, decent leathers and maybe a chocobo. I’m certainly not averse to trading in that red for something a bit more comfortable, I swear his back was trying to imprint on my crotch.”
That wasn’t fair to the poor chocobo. Seifer was just too large and heavy for the slightly built red. And with them both riding double he was fairly amazed the poor thing hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion. Of course, the bird wasn’t Seifer’s to trade away, it belonged to Tseng; and he struggled even in his mind to not refer to the dark Wutain as ‘the sorcerer’. He let the bland look and slightly quirked eyebrow tell the blond what he though of selling Tseng’s poor beast.
“See, I know you’re laughing at me even if you can’t smile. Fine, new clothes, new birds, an account with the Knights, what else, getting rid of those damned bits of bronze and maybe a decent haircut. Some good knives, I don’t think a gun is a good idea and I’m a bit fonder of blades myself, though I probably *should* have some sidearm now.”
The blond kept thinking aloud but Snow was lost in his own thoughts again, free hand fingering the bronze collar with trembling fingers. It wasn’t much, the collar and cuffs were hardly valuable in and of themselves, but they symbolized his place in life. Could he sell them? Could he even take them off? Yesterday the thought would never have crossed his mind, the weight of the metal a fact of his world, a foundation that was slightly more welcome than the heavier iron they’d left behind with his old clan.
Even without the dressing of slavery he still bore the scars of his life. Whatever power had allowed the blond healer to fix his legs and the damage of years that had left him a wasted figure, it had not erased the sins written in his skin. The scars from his punishments remained, as well as the brand on his back. He would never be able to escape the past, no matter how he lived now.
“Princess? You okay? The whole spacing out thing really doesn’t bug me as much as it should but you might want to watch it around other people or they’ll think you’re simple.” The blond smiled and tapped his own temple before poking Snow’s forehead playfully.
The brunette frowned at him a little, mildly reproachful of the touch and sighed to himself. Seifer was a touchy person, effusive with his emotions and fiercely protective. Though he’d tempered himself in front of the... in front of Tseng, Seifer was not one to hold back on the casual touch and Snow was slowly becoming accustomed to it, though from strangers he still felt the instinctive need to flinch.
“You know, it’s too bad the Clan elders didn’t have much cash to pay me with. I’ll need to figure out a way to earn enough to keep up in appearances. I just know these uppity types are gonna use anything they can to bring the Outlands to heel instead of treating them as equals.”
This time Snow did sigh. Tseng must not have gone into the details of this ambassadorial mission but the Outlands were not in fact poor. Distinct and isolationistic perhaps but far from poor. Most of the things that the Outsiders seemed to value as wealth were simply in care of the Church. The Church acted as the Knights Counsel for the Clan elders and he *knew* that Seifer had an account with the Church. The clan elders had given him gold for traveling, assuming that he would charge whatever goods he needed to the Church upon arrival in the Outsider’s nations.
“Okay, what did I do this time? Come on Princess I’m not a mind reader here, you have to actually *speak* to me sometimes.”
With another long suffering sigh to himself he set the strange eating utensils down and pushed aside the plate of half eaten food. Seifer’s plate held nothing but crumbs despite the amount of talking he’d done during the meal.
“Talk to the temples. They have a line to the Church and you’re accounts. The Church set it up long ago for the traders on ship who dock in the southern ports. The larger temples keep up with the logs in the Church.” His mother had married a trader and he’d heard from others over the years how the system worked. Slaves were not usually encouraged to understand the workings of such things, but some were made to keep records. And slaves talked amongst themselves, though usually not where the masters could hear, and not to him. He’d been ostracized because of his master’s need for absolute control.
“See, I told that albino that I needed you around!” At Snow’s befuddled look the blond scratched his head and laughed a little helplessly. “The king man, the king, you never got a good look did you? Pale as ice, silver hair, bleached skin, I swear he sees the sun less than you do, and glowing green eyes. Like that slaves were before he fixed you. Except like, steady glowing. Freaky if you ask me. Course it’s not like you can point and stare at a king. At least, I don’t think you can.”
Snow’s bland look returned. A slave did not look upon a king. Not that the Outlands had a king or even such a law and the Outsiders may not have the same kind of respect laws but he assumed that a king was the same rank as a priest or a Daughter of Hyne, whom only the clan elders could look upon. Most certainly a slave would never presume to meet such a person’s eyes. Would a mere mortal stare at the sun? Not without going blind. Same reasoning.
“Anyway. I’ve been meaning to ask, want to come with me? At least until this whole thing in Acadia is settled? You know I have no clue what I’m doing right? And it’s true, the Clan Elders trust you a lot more than me. You know what your people need more than I do.” The man looked sheepish and earnest, a particularly cute expression that Snow had never seen on him before. Usually the somewhat arrogant bastard could hardly care less what others thought of him. It was a small part of his charm.
The former slave thought hard about the proposition. He knew his people far better than any of these Outsiders, a reason for him being sent as a gift in the first place. He couldn’t very well return to his homeland, he’d be seized as a runaway and sent back as a slave gift again. He didn’t understand the Outsiders well enough to fend for himself, and the idea of staying with the princess or anyone else in this bizarre place unnerved him. Seifer would care for him, allow him to brood in peace, at least for a while, and teach him the ways of these strangers. At the same time he would be able to serve his people and Church, and measure his gifts.
And as an Outlander, he had the leeway to act as a slave for the most part without being called on it because the Outsiders knew as much about him as he did they. He didn’t need to fear Seifer’s anger; the blond was rarely put out enough for violence though he reveled in a good fight.
With a small nod, Snow held out his hand to seal the bargain. “Okay.”
A strong, callused palm grasped his own for long seconds, Seifer’s smile threatening to split his face and making him appear a few years younger.
“Come on Princess. You can look *me* in the eye.”
Timid slate gray met amused emerald for a moment before skittering away, a pink stain spreading over Snow’s cheeks for a reason he couldn’t name. Seifer was like fire, something he couldn’t read or hear but was fascinated with anyway. Like fire the blond could very easily hurt him now that he wasn’t buried in the cold of nothingness.
“See? Nothing came to eat you, no lightening bolts, no heart attacks, nothing to worry about. Of course the blushing is cute enough to give a guy ideas so you might want to watch that around some of the rascals we’re bound to run into. I won’t have time to insult any hoity toady nobles if I’m busy defending your virtue.”
The teasing only made him blush harder and duck his head, tugging at his captured hand to pull his hood back up. He didn’t have any virtue to save.
“Awe, come on Princess, don’t hide from me now, you haven’t started teasing me back yet.”
The sigh wasn’t to himself this time but real and heartfelt and he rolled his eyes at the persistent bastard. “………Those same nobles are going to gut you before you get to prison. Aggravated mental damage from exposure to your stupidity, Lord Almasy.”
Green eyes blinked in shock before the big man crowed in delight. “I knew you were going to be alright!”
Letting Seifer’s laughter wash over him, Snow thought that, maybe, just maybe, he would be. For now anyway. He wasn’t selling his collar though.