THUMP!
The body falls on the ground hard, motionless. Two guards brush the dust off their bodies which the body seems to have left during the hauling process.
"Our work is over here, let's go." One of the guards announces, looking at the body with no emotion or whatsoever. He just seems eager to leave this site, because what happens after this situation is not quite comfortable.
The other guard nods in agreement. He doesn't think for another second longer. He turns around and starts moving toward the direction of the gates. "Fair enough. Let's go before anyone arrives here."
The process seems simple. Task done. Now move.
One step. Second.
Third.
On the fourth step, the frantic rustling of fabric comes from behind. Both guards glance at each other, a wry smile on their faces. "Ha..." Slowly, they turn back to face the direction they threw the body.
Curled up beside that motionless body is a girl, young and fragile. First, it's just silence. Then, the sound of sobs starts coming from her. Soon, her shoulders shake as she cries, hard and desperate. Her words come out between the cries as she stays latched to the body. "Bram... Bram... Wake up, please..."
The guards don't move away. They watch, they hear, but they still don't comfort. When the cries from the girl start weakening, they know it hasn't stopped, and they know what is going to happen. It always happens, after all.
The girl's head suddenly snaps up from Bram's chest, her face streaked with tears and agony. "WHY!? IT WASN'T NECESSARY! JUST WHY?" Her words are neither questions nor an enquiry. They are blames and accusations, which have come out of rage and hurt.
The guards flinch slightly at the intensity of her voice, but they force themselves to stay still. The guard who proposed to leave earlier takes a step forward and speaks, "Girl, he isn't dead yet."
The other guard nods from behind.
The girl's expression falters immediately. Slowly, she glances down at the body and holds her finger near his nose. Low, but definitely a breath. Her expression turns slightly guilty for yelling like that earlier, but she becomes defensive again because it is still their fault.
She stands up and somehow manages to keep Bram's body standing beside her. She struggles to hold him, but she doesn't fail. "Hmph. Your fault for not saying that earlier! You even wasted my time. I could have brought him to a medic already otherwise."
Both guards watch as she starts dragging Bram away. Slowly, her silhouette vanishes between the trees. Only then do they exhale a long-held breath.
The other guard's eyes narrow as he murmurs, "She never asked us whether he was alive or not." The first guard just pats his shoulder and turns around before starting to walk again. "Don't worry about it. It happens. And anyways, he is barely alive. Though, I must appreciate his endurance. He took all the hundred lashes and still managed to stay alive."
"Hmph. That's because he was punished 'efficiently'! Death is not a punishment here, after all. It cannot be." The other guard replies while following after him.
"Well said. It cannot be. Let's go inside anyways. It would be terrible if that girl appeared again."
Both guards disappear through the gates after a moment. The silence returns, but now it lingers with that girl's cries of moments ago.
The blood left by Bram's body colors the ground around that small area into red and dark brown.
---
Inside, the figure and the man who hit Bram sit across from each other. A table between them, one glass each for both of them rests on the table. Thrown into the corner is the whip, its body red with blood and oil.
The man seems distracted, his gaze on the drink in his cup. He watches the smoke curling and leaving the drink. At this moment, his gaze shifts to the figure in front of him. "Are you satisfied with the answer he gave? It was not easy to make him speak. He begged me not to hit him, but he remained stubborn until the end."
The figure simply nods, his fingers curling around the cup as he brings it to his lips, his posture straight and efficient. "It's enough. I got enough information to plan my next move." He takes a step, then adds. "But you went easy on him. You were definitely capable of bringing out all the information from his mouth."
The man stiffens suddenly, his jaw clenching as he addresses the figure, his voice low and colder now. "Young master. Be within your limits."
None of them speak further, but the silence carries a threat far more dangerous than any words could have been.
The figure, or the perceived 'Young Master', stands up after setting the cup down. He looks down at the man silently; the man meets his gaze.
Finally, the standoff between them finishes as the Young Master starts walking toward the room's entrance. Just before walking out, he speaks back over his shoulder, his voice calm now despite the earlier intensity.
"Don't say that again. If I had shown you my limits, you wouldn't be sitting here right now. Our standards of that word 'limits' are different, in the end."
When he finally leaves, the man slumps back against his chair. Beads of sweat suddenly glisten on his face and on his chest through the fabric of his clothes. He lets out a sigh slowly after that.
"Ha... A dangerous man, indeed."
---
Away from both the Young Master and the man, the girl who had dragged Bram now sits beside an elderly man, while Bram lies unconscious in front of them. The elderly man sits on the chair, applying medicine and bandages to the places where skin has been torn off.
The girl watches the process silently, but her silence is less patient and more just a need to not intrude on the treatment.
When the elderly man finally patches the last bandage, he hums once and glances toward the girl. "He has been hit brutally again and again. But the man who has hit him is definitely an expert at holding back. Every vital spot is left untouched; just the surface has been hurt there."
The girl finally breathes out something that doesn't feel like anxiety. She nods toward the doctor and then toward the unconscious Bram. "Thanks for this, really. And... don't call the person who hit Bram an expert. Instead... Instead..." After a brief struggle to find some proper word, she speaks. "Instead, call him a wretched dog! An idiot!"
The elderly man stares at her, and then lets out a tired chuckle before nodding. "Sure, sure. Idiot then. Now, go away and let him rest. You can take him after at least one day of rest. He should be able to wake up and walk somewhat after the one-day period."
The girl nods quickly and stands up. "Obviously, I will return tomorrow then! Thank you again!"
The elderly man watches her go, but as she disappears, his smile vanishes. After a moment, he whispers while staring at Bram.
"He will walk indeed... just hope they don't come after him again to finish what they started."