5 Clothes and Confession

To Azul, the streets of Frontier were stone-cobbled and clean for the most parts, devoid of any real trash. What they were not devoid of, however, were the stink of people, and to a lesser extent, the stink of other species and beasts of burden.

Like the droning of an insect nearby his ear, the boisterous conversations that could be heard were incessantly loud to his sharp ears. Azul could pick apart both known and unknown words of the Trade Tongue he had just started to learn and speak.

Luckily for Azul, he found his hearing adjusting very quickly, ridding itself of unimportant noises until they were but mere distant background noises. From the conversations, he quickly learned a few new words, making use of the context and the vocabulary he had already learned. Adaptability seemed to a core strength of his body for which he was grateful of.

From the district which housed the lower residences, they walked along a boulevard and made a few turns before arriving at the trading district of the city. Lady Mary and her entourage of guards had already split up by then, leaving for the noble district.

Disregarding the sea of unfamiliar people around them, it was now just Bernard and Azul left alone at the entrance of the trading district.

"First, we will have to do something about your clothes," Bernard said. "Else we will be getting unwanted attention everywhere we go."

"You are right. But I have no money so to speak of." Azul knew full well that Bernard had already seen through his fake guise of being an adventurer, and perhaps even his attempt at being human--not that Azul had tried particularly hard to keep it a secret. Thus, Azul had already given up lying to the man.

Bernard pointed to a large two-story building at the side of the street. "In there is the tailor I usually see to if I am in need of clothing. She will suffice."

Bernard left a thought unsaid, however. 'She is also good at keeping silent and at this time of the day, her store won't be packed.'

Following Bernard to the inside of the building, Azul found himself surrounded by racks and racks of clothing of sorts; an array of dyed tunics, both sleeveless and with sleeves; gowns, short and long, for women; cloaks, both long and short; and woolen hats of various sorts. There were even clothing which Azul did not recognize with his limited but ever expanding vocabulary.

Bernard quickly spoke to the female tailor and headed upstairs with Azul in tow. The second floor of the building likewise was full of clothing, but only more expensive and lavish. There was no one to be found other than them.

"So?" Bernard began, browsing at some tunics. "What exactly is the information you seek, Azul?"

Azul contemplated the question for a moment. He wasn't sure if he could trust Bernard with the information about his awakening. But the few days he had spent with Bernard had given Azul enough cause for him to reasonably recognize the human. The man seemed to be trustworthy and his instincts seemed to agree, though his inner beast growled at the thought of trusting prey. To it, everything that had blood flowing inside was prey.

Then again, there was also the undeniable fact that Azul had slaughtered two humans, draining almost the entirety of their lifeblood and with it, their memories. Lakas and Shura, they had been called. Azul knew that he could not lie to Bernard with the limited knowledge he had at hand. Any lies he told Bernard, who had already seen through his shabby guise, would be instantly found out.

Should a confrontation arise out of his confession, Azul would have to indiscriminately kill the humans of the city. And he doubted he could take on the entire population of humans in Frontier, some of whom seemed quite formidable to Azul.

His inner beast growled at the admission of weakness. To its perspective, Azul was the superior being and even if any of these lesser beings banded together in an attack against Azul, it was sure that it would come out on top.

Azul came to a decision. He decided he would tell his story to Bernard. He began speaking, starting from the very beginning of his dream to when he finally met them.

The words which he did not know of, Bernard supplied. From start to finish, Bernard listened intently, only interrupting when Azul needed help with his words.

Azul patiently waited for the man's reaction, readying himself for any forthcoming confrontation. Should the human attack him, he would use his Dread Aura to freeze him and kill him.

After a long moment, Bernard finally sighed softly. "Perhaps a younger and stupider me might have turned you in for the murder of two fellow innocents, but I am old and already greying. I also have no wish to die yet." He chuckled. "The casualties that would result in confronting a monster---no, I should not call you a monster but instead a man, forgive me." He bowed his head. "Confronting you would not be worth the ensuing casualties."

"I see," Azul said. "Does this mean I am free?"

"Indeed. But do refrain from indiscriminately killing. I will not condemn you for self-defense, however. There are bandits and outlaws here, both inside and outside the city." Determination steeled his words as he raised a black gauntleted hand. "And should you kill innocents, I will personally hunt you down, even knowing that it may lead to many casualties and perhaps even my own death. It is my duty as the guard captain of Frontier."

Azul formed a small smile, a human-like gesture which he had come to understand a little of. "I will hold you to that."

Bernard grinned back, thinking of how strange his life had become. "As for information as to who or what you are, I am afraid I do not have any clues. However, there might be a person who might know who or what you are. Or at the very least, he will have a clue. He is a retainer of Duke Azalea and one of the finest expert of the Esotherial. He is Grandmaster Janshari."

"I look forward to meeting him."

Inside the tailor's building, there was a small washroom which Azul used to wash himself of the dirt, dust, and grimes of the journey. Bernard had said that humans should wash up after a long journey and before wearing new clothing. It was their customs.

The shopping had not taken long. Azul simply took a long, sleeveless black tunic that stopped short midway past his thighs, comfortable black leather pants which he could loosen or tighten with the strings, and brown leather boots with thick soles. His mobility would not be impeded by these clothing should he ever engage in battle or a hunt.

As for the underclothing which would have covered his loins, he chose to forgo it--his inner beast had been so repulsed by the very idea that Azul would have had to fight it every second should he choose to wear the undergarment.

Azul looked at his reflection in the mirror, an amusing human tool to bask in one's looks.

Save for his unsettling symmetry so harmonious that it bordered on disharmony, his snow-white hair that flowed down to his shoulders, and his lack of bodily and facial hair, he looked passable as a human. Almost. If one did not pry too much into his unsettling symmetry or his crimson eyes that flashed with hints of black violet hues. And if one did not take an even closer look at his dark pupils, which at times, seemed to hide a primal beast, patiently waiting to be unleashed.

Deep inside, his inner beast admired the reflection. It did not like the trapping the clothes enforced upon it, but it was proud of its appearance. The power that was held in its slim, but wiry muscles was deceptive, far beyond the strength one could reasonably expect from them. Its appearance was that of a hunter, a superior hunter of anything and everything that flowed with warmth. And flow they would once under its grasp. And it had not tasted the gushing warmth of blood in quite some time. The flesh of long dead animals could only go so far to sustain his desire.

It would.

Soon. Quite soon.