Note: This chapter contains strong and offensive language, language spoken with intentions to harm another, abuse and bully towards the main character, false accusations of a non-existent disease, mentions of scars and bandages, a discussion to counter hair discrimination, a side character with symptoms of dementia, and adjusted prices towards an outsider. Please proceed with caution.
"Listen up, men!" a servant cried, another lifting him a few feet off the ground to be noticed. "Get in five lines! It's time for your haircut!"
At the command, the men sorted themselves into the lines, pushed and nudged by a few servants that walked between them, getting them in order and breaking up fights. Sachse pushed other men away from him and tried to get in a line furthest from the gang, but he wouldn't get far.
"There he is!"
"Come here, Mil!"
He was pulled to the ground for a brief second as one of them looped an arm around his neck and pulled him towards another line. He recognized the smell as Argat, and Sachse tried to walk backwards or pull his head out of the grip, but it wouldn't work. He was pulled into the third line with Argat, Gillot, Remon, and Tori, now considering kicking him between the legs, and the rest of the gang laughed from the next line, all chattering excitedly. Sachse scratched at Argat's arm, but he noticed him squirming and pulled him into a proper headlock under his arm, the rest laughing all the while.
"Listen up!" the voice-adjusting servant called to the crowd, pushing another man into line ahead of them. "Get in your lines! You're turning your head bald!"
There were a few groans from the crowd, but they were silenced by the servants.
"First in line, sit!" the servant called, stepping to the front.
Sachse finally bit Argat's arm, but he jabbed his knee into his leg, causing him to nearly stumble.
"Who wants to grab him?" Argat yelled to the gang.
"No, no, hold him up!" Erwin called from the other line. "I still haven't hit him yet!"
Remon grabbed Sachse by the arms and Erwin stepped between the lines, raising his leg and kicking him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, but was punched a few more times until the fist was moved away. Through his doubled vision, he saw Erwin being pushed back into line by a servant.
"No cutting lines. Chief's orders." he said, not sparing a glance at Sachse as he moved away to push a boy away from trying to talk to his friend.
"I said, next in line!" the voice-adjusting servant cried. Remon and Argat dropped him and pushed him towards the chair, chuckling.
The haircutter saw his face and frowned. Sachse turned around to sit, but the chair was moved away before he could, making him fall on the ground. Sachse stood, glaring up at him.
"What gives?"
"I ain't having an infection in my chair. Else I'd have to get rid of it." He held the chair higher over his head, now gripping it by the legs. Sachse couldn't tell if he was going to hit him with the chair or kick him.
"What infection? I don't have a disease." he sniffed his shirt, but it smelled fine.
"You. Your queerness is going to affect everyone."
Remon laughed from the line. "Yes, I wouldn't want to be a queer."
"See what he's saying? Get out of here."
"But I'm here for the-"
"I don't give a shit. Don't make me repeat myself, you faggot."
Sachse looked at the knife in his hand, but the haircutter swung the chair at him, making contact with his face and knocking him out of the space where it was supposed to be. He fell against the bottom of the hill behind him and a servant kicked his arm on his way to break up a fight.
"Touch this knife and I'll stab you with it." the haircutter threatened as he turned back to his line. "Now, who's next?"
The chair was placed on the ground again and Remon sat, smirking back at him, but he flinched at the cold knife to his forehead.
"Watch the head! I have scars!"
"Who doesn't?" the haircutter complained as he began chopping his locks.
Sachse pulled himself up from the hill and made his way to top of the hill, where the now-bald men were gathering, all laughing at each other. A few boys cowered in a shaded corner under a tree, hiding their tears for their mothers.
He sat himself under a different tree, watching the rest of the boys get their hair cut before they were pushed out of the chairs. They didn't see him at first and made their circle, laughing at each other. Sachse took a sigh of relief. He could only spare a few.
He saw Corrin sit in the chair, having been the last of the gang in line, but the young haircutter looked at his curls, confused.
"What are you waiting for? What's wrong?"
"I-I don't know what to do." The boy looked scared to even touch his hair, exchanging unreciprocated glances with his family in fear.
"You don't know how to cut hair?" Corrin snapped. "You don't know how to run your family's business?"
"I…but I'm the youngest-"
"Look, it's easy." Corrin snatched the knife from him and sliced off a curl from in front of his eye. "Grab each curl and cut. It's easy. Just like what you've been doing with everyone else." He urged the knife handle towards him when he didn't move. "Well? Are you waiting for permission? It's your business."
"O-Okay. I'll do it."
He left the chair soon enough, his halo of golden curls cut short to a nearly-bald head, just like everyone else. Sachse noticed a few more scars on his head and wiped a joke from his mind. He would talk to him later. Hopefully.
Sachse leaned against the tree he was under, looking up at the cloudless sky through the leaves and branches. He wasn't given a moment to enjoy it as the tree wrapped around his neck and started choking him. He grabbed at the wood, trying to pull it, but only felt more splinters as it tightened around his hands.
"Ha! Found him!"
Through his blurred vision, he saw the group stalk towards him with their wands out. A stab of pain ran through his tongue, but he was able to see one of them whisper a release spell and he was let go. His vision cleared and he saw the group running towards him, leaving Tugan at the top.
One of them kicked his ribs, knocking him on his side, and grabbed him by his ponytail. He was dragging him out of the shade and dropped at the end of the crowd, where the chief overlooked it. Maybe his eyesight was going downhill with his memory now.
"Listen up, men!" a servant yelled, clapping his hands to get their attention. "Someone silence those boys!"
A few young boys had begun to cry loudly and an older man yelled at them, gesturing in five different directions. They screamed and ran towards the other side of the crowd, one tripping over Sachse's leg. They locked eyes and he bolted, whispering towards his friends when he caught up to them.
"Your chief has an announce- oh. No announcement?" he stood next to a servant, both of them whispering furiously. A few men tried to cover up their conversation with their own, but Sachse still tried to listen past them.
"What do you mean there's no announcement? Why am I never told these things?"
"You just gather the audience. We know what he's going to say."
"So what is it? What do I tell them?"
A man roared in laughter at a joke, turning the servants back to the crowd. The first one smiled, trying to ignore the break.
"Back to our focus. Your chief has a task for you all." he bowed, letting his master take the floor.
"Thank you…ehh, it doesn't matter. I have a task for you all. Gather the freshest wine from the marketplace and bring it here."
He stared out at the crowd, most of them waiting for the sign of dismissal. It seemed he had forgotten that, too.
"What are you waiting for?" he yelled, vocal cords scratching against his throatskin. "That's a task for you! Go and complete it! I've dismissed you, then! Get out!"
Sachse saw many jump at the sudden tone before they dashed towards the gates, the gang included. He tried to follow, but a few pushed themselves out of the way to step on his back and arms, keeping him stuck until the worst of the crowd was out of the way and he was able to pull himself up. Corrin's bandage work was unraveling and he ripped off the ones on his ribs as he walked down the hill. He pressed a hand to each bruise for a moment before leaving their dirtied wrappings behind on the hill.
Sachse remembered where the wine vendor was and didn't have to rush. He had passed the man without making eye contact for years on his way to the library to help Ms. Leah.
Taking out his wand, he spoke his repeated line of teleportation, and remembered the shop. It was colorful, with crates stacking in every free space. The left side had red wines and the right side had the whites, the counter stained from the wines exploding open whenever asked. When he opened his eyes, the picture had become reality, placing him before the counter.
"Hello, sir." Sachse said, seeing a few men making their way into the market and running towards other shops, trying to narrow it down.
The old man looked over the counter and scowled at him. "What's this, then?"
"Task from the chief. All conscripts have been assigned to it. He asks for the freshest wine."
"The chief, eh? What's his favorite wine, then?" he challenged.
"He always orders two glasses of red whenever he enters the bar, but within an hour of drinking, he'll ask for a mug. He asks for a barrel instead of a mug whenever he's stressed."
He looked at the red wines from behind him, muttering slurs and insults under his breath. "So does he want a bottle or mug?"
"Bottle, to be nice."
He plucked a bottle and set it on the counter. "Twenty coins."
"Your average prices start under ten."
"I-Outcast tax, then."
"No one's taxed me on that yet." he muttered, digging out the coins from his pockets. Luckily, they hadn't been stolen yet, and they made the exchange efficiently.
He'd just grabbed the bottle and turned around to tuck it under his shirt when someone shoved him towards the counter, hitting his head against the jut of wood that made up the counter. Tori held his shoulders with his arm, grinning.
"Got him!" he yelled to the few behind him. Corrin, Gillot, and Argat ran into his eyesight and laughed at having caught him.
Tori pressed his arm into his collarbones. "Now tell me, boy. Where's the wine vendor?"
"You're so fucking stupid." he said and nodded up at the old man, who pretended to ignore the incident at hand.
"Ah. Hello, sir. Now, where-"
"Open your eyes or your ears, boy. I don't have all day."
Tori let go of Sachse and took a few steps back, realizing the wines behind him. Argat and Gillot broke into laughter at his stupidity and Tori tried to scold them, blushing from embarrassment. Corrin looked over at Sachse and turned his head, motioning towards the hill. Sachse fought a smile over his lips and took a few steps away before whispering the incantation again, remembering the hill he had just left.
He spawned a few feet down the hill and tucked his wand away as he shuffled backwards, trying to protect the bottle. He tucked the wand into the holder and turned towards the chief, falling to his knees before him and raising the bottle.
"My chief, I've-"
"Wait."
"E-excuse me?"
"You're not."
"Wha…Is there an issue? H-here?"
"What's wrong with you? Why didn't you get the haircut?"
"I was forbidden. Pushed out of the chair and kicked aside."
"Why have you'd laid your bandages on the hill, then? You've just spread your blood on Yael's creation, you know."
"They were ripped from getting stepped on and I didn't want to hold them up anymore. Now, back to the wine-"
A servant pounded his fist into his own palm, getting angry with their bickering. "Didn't you hear him, boy? The wines will be presented when everyone has arrived. Now wait!"
"I-Okay, sir. I will. Should I…I'll just wait here. Yeah."
He tucked the bottle between his bicep and chest, as he sat on the hill and watched the men running to the gate, getting in the way of the few trying to run in.