While Nyell was distracted by the endless rows of stalls, stretching his neck to peek at some vendors' booths, Miell took the opportunity to sneak up on him from behind before shoving an apple coated in sugar into his hands, wrapping the werewolf's fingers around the stick. Pretending he hadn't noticed the questioning stare, Miell gestured for him to take a bite, a bright smile stretching his lips until his eyes turned into crescent moons. It was hard to refuse, although the thing in his hand seemed strange, as Nyell hadn't seen apples before. They had many other fruits in their part of the jungle, but certainly no apples, much less apples coated in sugar.
"Don't look so suspicious! You seem to have a sweet tooth, so you might like this. It might also help put a smile on your face and chase away the scowl. Come on, don't furrow your brow further! You almost gave the owner of the previous game booth a heart attack with that somber face of yours."
"Don't exaggerate."
"You think I'm exaggerating? Look here, I'm sure he thought you were going to throw the darts in his forehead instead of the targets! Ah, man, the poor lad was frozen in terror…"
"Can you blame him, though? Nyell does look about to kill someone," Yohan chortled, accepting the other apple Miell was offering him. He had bought one for each of them, and the three men were now strolling the plaza with a big fruity candy in their hands. It was indeed sweet, to the point where it was too much to for Yohan, but Miell's happy face discouraged him from speaking up; he couldn't muster the courage to tell him it didn't suit his palate. So, Yohan did like the other two and slowly ate it, making a mess in the process. Not only was it sweet, it was also sticky!
"I don't look like I'm about to kill anyone!" Nyell grumped, licking his fingers that were now half-covered in sugar. "My face has always looked like this. What can I do?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Yohan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, everyone's already startled by your presence among them, y'know? So, when they see that death glare of yours, they can't help but be scared shitless. Even if the festivities are for you, I don't think anyone from the commonfolk expected to actually get to meet you. I'm pretty sure they all assumed you'd stay with Allen on the terrace, entertaining those snobbish foreigners, the saintly elders, and the oh-so-mighty shamans."
"If you keep teasing me," Nyell smiled sweetly, having had enough, "I'm not going to play any more games for you. Good luck winning whatever trinket you fancy next; I'll be watching."
At the threat, Yohan shut his mouth and mimed stitching his lips shut. Miell also became obedient, licking his apple without commenting. Suddenly, the cobblestone road seemed very interesting. They both knew that they were talentless when it came to these little games, and if they wanted to get their hands on the various shiny prizes, they had to rely on Nyell. Antagonizing their trump card wasn't such a good idea, so they both tactically decided not to push their luck.
Satisfied, Nyell nodded before nibbling on the apple. If anything, Miell was good at spotting delicious food, so he might as well forgive him.
"Still," Miell wondered after a few seconds of silence, "won't it cause problems for you to be wandering the festival instead of accompanying Allen? I know you said you didn't have to stay joined at the hips, but…"
"Miell," Nyell sighed, side-glancing at the beastman. It might indeed have been more proper for him to attend the private banquet held above the plaza, where the trial had been previously held, but he sure as hell didn't feel like keeping his mouth shut and smiling to fools, especially not when he was lacking sleep, and his mood was sour. Now that he knew just how rotten some of them were, he couldn't muster any goodwill toward the lot. He shouldn't judge them all for what a minority had done, but it was easier said than done.
"…What?"
"Trust me, it's for the better that I don't participate. I'm not sure I'll be able to resist throwing a few elders and lofty lords down the platform. If I go up, people will be raining down onto the plaza."
"No way, you wouldn't…!"
"Oh, believe me," Yohan laughed out loud, a somewhat unhinged smile stretching his lips, "he would. I don't know why you seem to idolize him so much when the guy's crazy. The moment you fall into his bad grace, you're dead meat in his eyes, no matter who you are. I've seen tribal chiefs experiencing it firsthand."
"Still…"
Nyell listened with one ear to whatever else Yohan said. It wasn't like the young man was lying, as he had gone into a rampage a few times in the past. If he wanted to tell Miell about his previous outbursts, so be it. As long as he mentioned why he lost it, everything was good in Nyell's book. He was the kind to own up to what he did and wouldn't hide what he had done. For starters, he doubted it would change Miell's perception of him, as for some reason, the beastman still hung onto the many rumors and embellishments circulating about him in the White Moon tribe, and that was despite having spent the last few days with him and getting to see for himself his wild temper. Nyell was not perfect. Still, Miell devoutly believed in him, leaving him slightly troubled.
'As long as he's happy, I guess,' he thought, relegating the matter to the back of his mind.
Soon enough, Nyell tuned out Yohan's voice, and it got drowned out in the noisy crowd. His eyes wandered over the vendors' stalls once again, and his gaze landed on a peculiar table filled with delicately crafted jewelry, more specifically, on an earring being showcased.
It was a beautifully crafted piece of art. Unlike the usual earring he was used to seeing, this one wrapped around the ear in a foliage-like fashion instead of being pinned to the lobe. Thin silvery branches and leaves curled upward and fell downward, whereas tiny bright red rubies were embedded along the main branch, half-encased by leaves, resembling berries. Nyell couldn't help but visualize how it would look on Allen. Since he had such delicate facial features, he thought that it would definitely suit him well.
'Again,' Nyell silently clicked his tongue. 'I'm thinking about him again. Why can't I get him out of my head? The moment I lower my guard, he comes rushing back into my thoughts. It's annoying.'
Still, Nyell bought that piece of jewelry.
***
Amid the endless rows of stalls, a few puppet theaters had been installed in broader areas of the plaza, allowing people to sit and watch. They mostly depicted popular stories and legends passed down in the White Moon tribe, with the vast majority focusing on the exploits of previous chiefs. Since they were everywhere, Nyell had grown accustomed to the boisterous voices of the storytellers, but up to now, he had barely paid them any heed. Their flamboyant stories had been relegated to mere background noise, no better than the crowd's chatter and the kid's laughter.
It'd have most likely stayed this way for the rest of the evening, hadn't it been for a woman's certain words pricking his ears. It took a second for his brain to register them, but when it did, Nyell stopped dead in his tracks and snapped his head toward the small theater. He could see two small puppets, visibly children, and a bigger one on the stage. For some reason, it caught his attention, and he couldn't look away.
"Oh?" Miell glanced over his shoulder, peeking at what had made Nyell freeze. "Does the Cliff story interest you?"
"The Cliff story?"
"Yeah. Remember when I told you a previous chief flattened the cliffs bordering the lagoon a while back? That's what the story is about."
Nyell frowned ever so slightly. It seemed like Miell had indeed mentioned such a thing on the day of the trial. If his memory served him well, Allen had added a few comments about it in passing. He wasn't too sure about that, though. He couldn't remember the discussion clearly, for he had been too busy gawking at his mate to comprehend whatever was coming out of that pretty mouth of his.
"Wanna check it out?"
As an answer, Nyell nodded and navigated through the crowd to draw nearer. He might have good ears, but the surrounding noises made it hard for him to concentrate on what the storyteller was recounting. Once he got closer, her voice became clearer.
"You see," she hummed as the puppet of the children played in what seemed to be water, the bigger figure busy working with fish nets, "the chief of the Crimson Era was born from a fisherman and a sailor and lived on the shore of the east cliff most of his life with his siblings, as his parents had perished on sea. His siblings, little twins, were still infants when they became orphans, and raising them fell under his umbrella. Even after our tribal god chose him to lead our tribe, Jörven spent most of his time with the children, refusing the honor of living in the chief's house and relegating most of his tasks to the council."
A foreboding feeling started to twist his stomach as Nyell stared at the child-shaped puppets. They were of a little girl and a little boy, wearing clothes he was all too familiar with. He nudged Miell, pointing out the puppet as the woman went on about the siblings' daily life.
"The clothing on these puppets… isn't it very similar to what I usually wear?"
"Hm? Yeah," Miell nodded, not bothering to glance at Nyell. Although he knew the story, hearing it from a storyteller's mouth was always entertaining. While still focusing on her voice, he mumbled, "That's how the White Moon tribe used to dress a long time ago. Casual robes were introduced only a few decades ago by foreigners, although they did wear something similar during ceremonies in the past too."
The foreboding feeling grew stronger in the pit of his stomach. Nyell had thought the little ghosts were wearing foreign clothing at first, not outdated outfits. Suddenly, he felt sick. He didn't want to know what would happen next.
"The council of elders and many of our ancestors didn't take Jörven's indifference to the tribe's matters kindly. Many conflicts arose between them. Until one day, some took things too far. If their chief's siblings were gone, then he'd have no reason to babysit them and would have to take his duties more seriously. Why was he taking care of two children, ignoring all of his other subjects? It was something a certain group of people couldn't understand, and then, the one time Jörven had to leave the children alone, they did the unthinkable."
Nyell felt a ball of acid climb up his throat. It burned, and he felt like reeling. He didn't want to hear what was coming next, but he did, anyway. His eyes were locked onto the puppets as the scene of Jörven holding onto the now limp child-shaped puppets played.
"Jörven was no fool, and when they presented his siblings' corpses, telling him that they had drowned in the sea while playing in the water due to some treacherous wave, he did not believe them. That day, all hell broke loose, and our ancestors realized that even if a chosen one decided not to lead them, it didn't mean they hadn't inherited their predecessors' strength. The earth shook, and the sky cried. The cliffs were flattened in his anger, and almost two-thirds of our tribe was wiped out. It was a bloody massacre that lasted all day. It is said that the cliff had been soaked in so much blood that it turned red for years to come, until one day the rain washed away the bloody remembrance of our dark past. Still, even to this day, you can catch a glimpse of red dirt. The blood had been engraved too deeply into the earth."
Now, it felt hard to breathe, and Nyell had to let out a long exhale to calm down. She was talking about the past. This had happened a long time ago.
"That is why, children, you should never, ever anger the White Moon tribe's chief, for his anger can shake the heavens, and all of us, you as well as me, would bear the weight of his wrath."