BLACK MASK [MxM]

5. Understand each other Figure

The atmosphere in the hall was hardly conducive, as it seemed to fail completely. Actor who break through, while even sitting with elegant raised feet, were in fact blatant contempt. The elders were called old because they were old, for Arsen they had the smell of the grave, and his arrogant youthful attitude was enough to reach the full attention of the meeting attendees. This was the first time face-to-face with the three famous elders, in the city would they probably be called celebrities.

The three of them looked nothing alike as they responded to the wild of Arsen. Rory looks like he almost peed his pants. Penn Askara, leader of the elders, the oldest, gave a flat look at the mess made by Arsen. With a nice, quiet expression on his face, Arsen knew that there was an attitude of camouflage. Even worse was Nituna Bumara, the only 60-year-old woman; her voice had shrill in the meeting hall like a thunderbolt in broad daylight, thus Hebil Muara, a modest man with snake-like eyes has to calm her down with a joke.

In the end, the meeting ended in a hurry because Arsen refused their request to take Lavi on the reason the man needed to rest.

Bullshit.

A lowly position like him would be a mere lackey who must obey. If the elders' words are meant to be obeyed by everyone, Arsen would be crazier, he wouldn't be denied by anyone. Davion's words didn't even affect him like that was the sound of an ant.

And the ferocious young guy won.

His legs were fastened to the stirrines as one of his bodyguards approached in a hurry. The entire series of scenes in the hall room was gone from his mind.

"Young master ..." but the guard stopped immediately because he was choking from running.

"Why is your face so pale as if you've just eaten horse s**t?"

His palms met his knees, bowed, but also trembled at his boss.

"Your prisoner ... Lavi ...." The man recoiled, gasping again, "He's not in the room."

"Oh?" Arsen didn't think the news was important, especially when he was still having fun like a fool. "I let him go."

".... What?"

"Why? You want to complain that I abdicate my own prisoners?"

The bodyguard was gaping, but he answered firmly, "No."

"Just watch him, don't let him out of the palace. If you can threaten him, tell him; If he tries to leave, I'll kill you instead, hanging you from the tree. Let's see if he has any sane humanity."

The man's shivering. "But it's not serious—"

"I'm mean it," cut Arsen. "Quickly go."

Indifferently, Arsen rode the horse. Before galloping, the horse neigh with its forelegs that rise and almost make him fall into decline. His saddle handle was tightened up, patched a tiny bit to start walking, and he also gave a snap of the stirrups at his feet.

Arsen wasn't wearing a riding hat, so his happy childlike expression radiates the air around him. He turned around one time, met the handler, but continued to circle more and more around that big, green, no-tree branches in the middle of the forest. The sound of a horse's foot stomping is like a quick tap that can't be counted.

"Young master, you must bend down as the speed of the horse increases. Make sure you hold on tight to keep from slamming to the ground firmly. We were worried you might get hurt. Falling to the ground can cause a fracture," the horse handler said thoughtfully.

Arsen ignored the warnings. His mind was filled with the power of the spirit called Lavi. "Can any soldier ride?"

"All soldiers have been trained to be versatile. Everyone knows how much they train, they're prepared for war." The handler answered somber.

Those words made things hard. 'Lavi' spirits immediately began to erode into a swirling smoke.

Although Arsen had grown accustomed to the ferocity of the underworld, where the muzzle of a gun would stick to his head at any moment, his heart was firmly bound to hear the word war alluded to. A happy feeling that brightens his face between the pale shadows, instantly evaporating as if it had never existed before.

"I'll drive around until I'm satisfied. How long can this horse last?" Arsen veered the subject with great skill.

The horse he rides has a unique feature of the body; had black spots like paint splattered all over his white body. Probably almost as imagined as the color of a cash cow. Arsen had tested its agility. The horse has a short-legged body, which enables the young to ride with ease.

"The horse is in excellent condition, used for hunting. I have chosen this horse to match the image of your arrogant yet fierce figure ..." the handler stopped, feeling he was picking the wrong sentences, "It's not an insult at all, I just match your character and —"

"Go on," told Arsen not to care.

"And this horse is kind of an Appaloosa," the handler continues with a quivering voice. "The additional value of this horse is its tremendous strength and durability."

"How many of these are here?" Arsen's body moves with the movement of a horse that couldn't stay in place.

The handler held the saddle with one hand before answering, "There's a lot and being in four clan territories, in this place there's only five."

For just a moment, it seemed that the subject was of further interest to Arsen. "Can this horse be for me?"

"You want to take him to the city?" asked the man naively.

"How do I get this to the city? Put in a suitcase?" Arsen insinuated, he continued, "I think I'll be here long enough, and I need a ride."

The island has no motor vehicles, so it couldn't be for rental cars or anything, let alone auto shops. After all, he was good with horses, because there are horse races in the city too. But the place was so crowded and so many children that he was uncomfortable.

"To go arround the forest, this horse can be used. You can choose one person to keep you company so you don't get lost."

"This island is so small, where can I get lost?"

"This island may look small from the sky, but if you go around, five whole days won't be enough," the old man explained patiently. "The heart of the island is still a wild forest full of wild animals, so dangerous for you to go alone."

Sounds like he's being underestimated. Arsen's facial expression wasn't amused. It made the handler to feel uneasy again, but Arsen did look like a guy who couldn't be touched. He shows a lot of disapproving faces.

In gossip at palace, a swordsman as strong as Lavi could be afraid of him.

This guy must be very strict.

The gun was pulled from his waist. "Am I to be arrested if I shoot these animals here?"

"You want to hunt?"

The handler knew about the pistol, the soldier had been introduced to a firearm that was said to spit out hot bullets that pierced the flesh. But it's never been tested directly here.

"It's best to use arrows for hunting, so there's no bang."

"Oh, you know about guns," said Arsen, the curvature of his brow put wrinkles around his eyes.

"I've heard, but never touched it."

Arsen doesn't care.

"I can't shoot well. Haven't learned yet," he said truthfully.

"The best archer here is Mr. Renjaku. No one had ever beat him before, but some soldiers never missed a shot."

If the handler said soldiers can shoot, so can Lavi. He stared at the handler, "What's your name?"

"My name is Moriah, Young master."

Arsen jumped and landed on the ground with his powerful leg muscles. "You can arrange my archery training as well, Moriah?"

The palace path was clear from the smell of blood, a firm and sturdy young city boy of striking appearance, walking with his chin raised toward the main palace. Before heading to the palace, he had to pass through the left wing of the entrance to which was the great hall hall. At the back of the display, there was a small garden that lounges; there are wooden swings and even swimming pools.

More inside, through the garden, there was a large empty field in front of a closed wood room. The room was a fencing gym, Arsen had seen them training on the inside, especially for some first-born soldiers safe from falling on a gravel.

Arsen saw Lavi there, waving his sword in the hot sun. His body moved nimbly, his waist looked rather fragile and cautiously twisted, but his foothold on the ground was firm. If Kiril was described as a graceful swordsman, Lavi can be called swift and decisive. Their game tempo can be indistinguishable from the way it moves. As he turned his head, the collar bones appeared under his pale skin.

Arsen approached at the speed of light, without a sound, his hand outstretched to reach for the wooden sword. At the opportune moment, Lavi turned to him. The sword almost struck Arsen's face, but in the blink of an eye he was drawn forward through his sword and his chest bumped with Arsen's.

Lavi pushed him instantly, taking a wrong step back, his waist immediately caught by a strong hand.

"Be careful, you might fall and hurt yourself," said Arsen, with mischievous face.

That sentence was like an insult which slapped Lavi. "I'm not a woman. Don't look at me with contempt."

Part of Lavi's dark hair was a mess and stuck to his face with sweat. The sun's shadow made his wet skin a little shiny. Every move he made was pretty and graceful. But his lips are still pale.

"It's the middle of the day, you should have to stop practicing." Arsen picked up a bamboo bottle of water at the end of the training hall, threw it at Lavi. "Don't get dehydrated."

Lavi's legs were a little cramping while walking, he completely ignored Arsen' sentence.

"Have you eaten?" he asked. "I'm so hungry, but I have to take a shower, do you want to take a shower together?"

Again the guy ignored him. Wiped the sweat off his neck seems more important.

He glimpsed Arsen' eccentric appearance. His clothes were a listless shirt, looking thick and snug in a leather jacket, his pants also thick as if he would gain weight when the pants were soaked. From any angle they look very different, and Arsen looks like an alien in a remote village.

"I'll take a shower, you wait here."

Lavi didn't feel like having to obey that strange guy, and rushed to his feet, but he sat down after a few steps. Waiting. He didn't know what he was doing, his drinking water was all over. An hour later he was still there, sprawled out on the wooden floor and Arsen walking steadily in the corridor. His figure looked like a perfectly carved sculpture.

"You don't shower?" Arsen frowned, placed the tray on the floor. "Don't you feel the itch?"

"No."

The blonde guy muttered, setting the plate. "You like offal?"

After digesting for a while, Lavi replies simply, "No."

Arsen began moving side dishes on a small plate made of coconut batons, which is a very unusual shape. He didn't have much to carry, just chicken, steamed vegetables, steamed duck eggs, grilled fish. Everything he made himself.

"What about chicken liver?"

"No."

This time he was puzzled. "Then what do you eat everyday?"

"Sweet potatoes."

Arsen frowned. "I'll make you some sweet potatoes next time. But this time you'll have to eat chicken liver to replenish your blood."

Lavi's skin was as pale as the undead, at this point, Arsen wasn't sure if it's because he hasn't recovered yet or his skin looks like an albino.

"You made this?" Lavi asked another question.

"Of course, I'm a good cook."

"You can't fool me by admitting a servant's cooking is one of yours."

Arsen looked at him, then couldn't help but laugh. "You're insulting me? You sure have a sharp mouth."

His mood looked so good that it didn't offend him at all. Rather, he was content when Lavi started to pick up the dishes and smell the food. The man's movements remain gentle and carefully—or perhaps even cautious.

"I didn't poison you tho." Arsen smirked.

Lavi shrugged.

He bite the chicken's liver. He stopped chewing when he felt his tongue satisfied with flavor. He had a bad appetite these past two days and was regurgitating his food a few hours after that.

Arsen asked him. "How's the taste?"

"Not bad."

Being praised in such a short way would have nearly sent Arsen into the wind.

"I told you I was a good cook."

Lavi was born lazy to change his facial features. In some ways, he seems very calm, away from others and keeps his distance. But enough to make Arsen feel strongly pulled by that charm.

Lavi, "Who taught you how to cook?"

"I taught myself." Arsen said a little proud. "When I was a little, I lived with my grandparents, and they were very old and unable to walk properly. Even when I'm hungry, I couldn't ask for their help even if I want to. The food the waiter makes was never really my taste and I end up smashing dishes at every meal. Finally after watching the cooking show, I tried to cook my own food. You know what happened?"

Lavi winked.

"I set my kitchen on fire! Everyone panics and thinks there's an electrical problem that shorted out. The servants panicked, made telephone calls, and the house became busy." Arsen didn't seem to want to end the story. "I thought my father would kill me and curse me, but when he was told about it, he just gave us money for the restoration. Somehow I want him mad, so I set fire to the kitchen again and again, but that anger never existed."

At this point, for some reason, the air around them began to feel heavy.

"And then?"

"Then nothing happened. He's so cold that I hate him a little."

"A little?"

"He's always given me what I want since a long time ago, however strange I ask. That's why I got so confused when he wouldn't give me this island."

No comment from Lavi. Arsen' figure in front of him seems firm and strong at the same time, there was also a soft, invisible side.

Then the figure gave him a mischievous look. "I think being here is pretty fun."

tbc.