When Vermon carried Orb back to his bed, Riecho had put the basin of cold water on the side table and began organizing the place and putting things away in their respective places. Vermon sat facing Orb at the edge of the bed again and looked hesitant for a second.
He did not want to nurse his slave in front of his friend and his talkative Jerboa, yet he could not help feeling guilty and anxious. He furrowed his eyebrows and began wringing out the wet cloth, wiping Orb’s face and feverish body under his shirt.
“Should I summon Luba?” Akinos calmly asked as he approached the bed.
“There’s no need, Akinos. Luba was here a while ago,” Vermon answered as he continued what he was doing without looking at his friend. “Orb has minor scratches on his hands because he hit the window glass.”
Glancing at the blood stains on Vermon’s sleeve and abdomen, the deep neck wound and the cut on his face, Akinos could not pretend not to see. He worried even though he knew that Vermon had enough energy for self-healing.
“What about you?” Akinos asked. The cut on Vermon’s face did not seem deep but Akinos thought the hideous wound on his neck required the physician’s assessment.
Vermon completely forgot about the severe injury to his neck, for the sharp fangs of Orb had brutally torn the tissues to an unbelievable degree neither Vermon nor Akinos expected. Although Vermon felt slight discomfort due to the severity of the pain and the large stain of the hot blood, which seeped down on the front of his white shirt, he did not complain.
“I think I know now how Barloschios must have felt,” Vermon casually chuckled as he recalled Orb’s swooping on Barloschios’ neck one night and biting it with all his might[1].
“He was fine,” Vermon spoke in a completely different tone as he resumed wiping Orb’s face, “Until he realized this morning that he became completely blind and started hitting his head against the disciplinary pillar in the isolation room.”
“So this explains the bandage around his forehead,” Jerboa stated, in clear distress after he hopped onto the bed and stood next to Orb’s pillow to gaze at him. Orb appeared to be in bad condition, and Jerboa could tell he was abused for the past four days.
“I had my suspicions of his vision loss days ago, but he denied it for too long. So to test him, I asked him one night what he looked at through the window, and he said that he could see the glowing stars and the brilliant moon,” Vermon’s tone of voice was low, “but the sky these days, as you must have noticed, is cloudy and there are no signs of stars or moon in it.”
Akinos crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to his friend and confidently said, “I think he described to you what he imagined,” looking at Orb, Akinos added, “Maybe he tried to convince himself of that image, even though it did not exist.”
Jerboa, who looked at Akinos and then Orb, immediately copied his master and crossed his little arms over his chest. “Yes. He is completely blind now, which must have been hard for him.”
Vermon’s hand movement stopped for a few seconds after Jerboa’s last comment. “Yesterday, he showed me a newly discovered flower in my yard. His description of it was surprisingly accurate, but as soon as he asked me about its color, I knew it,” Vermon spoke solemnly, “Ah, that sense of uneasiness—”
Vermon checked himself and sighed. His eyes were staring at the scratched hands of Orb. He turned to Riecho, who looked troubled despite her attempt to look otherwise as she was busy cleaning the room.
“Riecho, summon Figling,” Vermon almost whispered, but Riecho heard him and left the room immediately.
Akinos stood next to his friend and turned his watchful eyes on him. Vermon maintained his broad shoulders in an upright posture as he spoke. “Today, when he finally understood the hopelessness of his situation and did what he did to himself, he kept shouting at me to kill him— so many times, it bothered me — very much ...”
This is the first time I have seen him emotional. How rare! Akinos marveled.
Vermon returned the wet cloth to the basin and left the bed as he recounted in detail how Orb’s condition had relapsed moments earlier and how the attacks seemed strange as if they were consciously carried out by an angry man, even though Orb did not say a word or open his eyes all the time.
After listening patiently, Akinos smiled and assured his friend that this happened in the Imperial Palace one night when they discovered his poisoning. Although Vermon did not forget that his friend had already told him about that incident when it took place, he looked disconcerted as he experienced it firsthand.
***
Figling entered the room carrying with him gauze and ointment. When he saw Orb surrounded by his master, the Crown Prince, and his little pet, he stood still in the middle of the room, gazing in awe until Vermon motioned him to approach.
Figling bowed in greeting to the two masters and walked over to the bed in short but very fast steps. Seeing how intimidated the servant was, Akinos smiled and retreated into a quiet corner opposite the broken window.
Figling sat on the bed and embarked on his mission in silence. He applied the ointment on Orb’s scratches and wrapped his hands tightly with the gauze.
The 12-year-old Figling was always responsible for changing Orb’s bandages since his coming to Arkosia. Vermon always likened him to a mouse due to his light and deft movements and weak voice, which characterized him whenever he was terrorized or startled by something.
The boy was among the servants who harbored no particular feelings toward Orb and was reluctant to have anything to do with him because of his strange and complex relationship with their master. Yet he was the very one who got into trouble one time because of helping Orb make a mask for himself[2].
Figling attempted to leave the room as soon as he finished his work. However, Vermon, who was watching him closely, stopped him.
“Stay and make his fever come down,” Vermon gave the order while eyeing the basin of cold water on the side table.
“Yes, master,” Figling nodded and placed the gauze and ointment aside to do his next task. “Please take care of him,” Jerboa spoke to Figling with a gloom darkening his tone, but it seemed that Figling was reluctant to engage in any conversation about Orb.
Therefore, he disregarded the talkative creature entirely and wiped the sleeping invalid’s cheeks.
“Jerboa, not everyone can handle your talkativeness,” Vermon sighed before walking to where Akinos was.
“Indeed, stop bothering the servant boy and let him finish his work,” Akinos smiled.
“Humph! At least Orb likes it when I speak,” Jerboa sounded indignant.
“He’s just being nice,” Akinos indifferently said.
Jerboa hmphed again and leaped over the bed frame, “I came today to check on him,” Jerboa looked at Vermon, “Of course, I promised to visit him four days ago[3], but when you urged me last night, I felt uneasy.”
Jerboa leaped again and landed on the floor as he went on, “And I also wanted to read for him the two books my master lent him.”
When he saw the two companions standing beside each other in front of the window, Jerboa asked earnestly, “Do you think he would welcome my initiative after what happened to him? Or is it too early to raise the subject of helping him read books?”
Vermon did not turn to look at Jerboa; instead, he kept staring at the broken edges of the glass. I prevented Orb from reading, and even confiscated his only two books. If Akinos knew about it, he would chastise me for what I have done. I think Orb won’t say anything about it and won’t mind the presence of Jerboa.
Vermon turned to Jerboa, who was staring at him intently. No, I don’t think he would refuse Jerboa’s initiative. I know that Orb likes him.
“Vermon, do you hear me? He loves my company and my reading,” Jerboa implored as he approached him. “He will need someone to distract him and improve his mood in this difficult time.”
“Jerboa is right,” Akinos looked at his friend and said, “Let him stay, Vermon, and help you deal with your slave until this ordeal is over.”
Turning his gaze between Jerboa and Akinos, Vermon nodded in agreement and eventually spoke. “Jerboa, when I invited you to visit us yesterday, I intended to ask you to stay for a few days, and I didn’t foresee today’s incident—the truth is that I still can’t fully understand the situation, and I think the timing of your visit is very appropriate.”
Vermon looked across the room at the sleeping Orb. “Jerboa, please stay for a while,” he requested, “Orb and I need you.”
***
Why do you not kill me? Why do you insist on keeping me when I am blind and useless to you now? Tell me. Should I force you to kill me? Do I have to kill you for me to die? But do I dare? Do I dare, Vermon?
When Orb’s temperature dropped, he opened his eyes at sunset. He seemed calmer but did not make any movement. However, Jerboa saw him close his eyes again.
“My lord?” Jerboa asked anxiously.
Orb opened his eyes at that moment but looked profoundly absorbed, and he seemed unaware of Jerboa’s presence.
“Can you hear me? My lord?”
“Jerboa?” Orb echoed his name in disbelief, “Jerboa!”
“Yes, it’s me,” Jerboa hopped off the seat opposite the bed to Orb’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked again.
“Jerboa, I—,” Orb cut himself off.
There was a moment of silence in which Orb’s lips remained slightly apart, but he did not finish what he was about to say. Soon, he freed his arm from under the quilt and placed it over his eyes, refusing to let Jerboa see his face at that moment.
Jerboa thought Orb was resisting a sudden urge to cry. “You don’t have to say anything now,” he sounded agitated, “Vermon told us what happened. He was here, and Master as well, but they left to do some work in the Imperial Palace,” Jerboa paused for a moment, “Can you sit up?”
For a moment, Jerboa heard Orb’s sniffling.
He hopped to the other side of the bed to see Orb’s face, but the lean forearm was still covering his eyes. So Jerboa sat next to the pillow.
“My lord, I’ll stay by your side,” he said sympathetically, “Don’t worry.”
***
That day ended without any significant progress in Orb’s condition other than his fever coming down. When the servants were busy replacing the broken window glass, he did not react to the noise they made but fixed his damaged eyes on the ceiling.
When Riecho brought him the antidote, Orb swallowed the two doses and the meals that followed with difficulty. He suffered a real pain in his throat and a lump preceding an upcoming crying outburst.
Orb did not ask why he had been moved to the private quarters of Vermon and given a spacious room adjacent to Vermon’s bedchamber. He seemed neither aware of Vermon’s absence nor willing to ask questions about him.
Starting any conversation of any kind with Jerboa was impossible, and responding to his endless questions was a burden. Therefore, Jerboa felt quite concerned over Orb’s prolonged silence.
On the second day, Orb woke up in the morning feeling apathetic. He had no energy to move or speak. Orb remained in this state for some time, disregarding Jerboa’s constant but failed attempts to chitchat, until he smelled the fragrance of Vermon and deduced that he was close by.
Orb slowly curled up on his left side, where he guessed Vermon was standing.
“I know you are here, Vermon,” he looked solemn. Orb’s lips trembled as if he was fighting an urge to say something sad.
“Vermon!” he insisted angrily.
Jerboa, who sat on the chair next to Orb, stood up, looking questioningly at Orb at one moment and at the space behind him at another. There was no trace of Vermon; he was sure of it.
“Vermon—I know you are here,” Orb sounded miserable.
There was a moment of silence.
Vermon’s original plan was to check on Orb while invisible and leave, but seeing that he was caught, he froze.
“What do you want?” Vermon’s voice came wearily after a deep sigh.
“Knowing my position as a slave in this empire, I have no rights nor will of my own,” Orb’s voice was slightly trembling, “Knowing that I have defied you so many times, I have no right to ask for anything. However, considering my current state, I—ask you one big favor.”
Orb’s voice cracked, “Only once—only this time. I am—begging you, Vermon, to end my misery. I—beseech you, kill me.”
“No,” Vermon’s reply was immediate and firm.
“M—my lord!” Jerboa, who raised his head and pricked his big ears, sounded terrified.
“KILL ME,” Orb cried fiercely.
“I said no,” Vermon remained invisible and maintained his firm tone.
“I DON’T WANT TO LIVE!” Orb sat up and sprang dizzily from the bed, knocking over Jerboa’s chair, “I am useless; I am cursed,” He kept mumbling words as he stood in the middle of the room and extended both arms as if facing the invisible, quiet master.
“I am—broken, and you—can’t fix me.”
“I am your master, Orb. I decide your worth, not you,” Vermon sounded upset at that moment. “Even if you are broken, I will keep you.”
“I BEG OF YOU, KILL ME,” the blind young man shouted with greater ferocity, but his request was met with silence. Jerboa was standing over the bed’s footboard, watching him with a sorrowful look on his little face. It was unclear whether Vermon left the room or stayed, but nothing stopped Orb’s frenzy that day.
“KILL ME” were the only two words Orb wildly screamed. He howled like a madman and kept at it until he choked and coughed. Orb’s throat went dry, and he eventually lost his voice. The sad young man dropped to his knees; with wild hair and a face wet with tears and mucus, he angrily slammed his fists against the floor twice and thrice.
He then whimpered in agony.
He has been overcome with anger, sorrow, and utter despair.
***
End of Chapter (28)
[1] See Chapter 12.
[2] See Chapter 6.
[3] See Chapter 18.
