1st of Ashan
Joseph liked sitting and watching city life. If there was anything he enjoyed, it was the sun. He sat quietly on the edge of a fountain in the Andaris square with his head tilted toward the sun. Most of his life he was only permitted to go outside if he were working, and usually by then the sun was an enemy, an all-consuming fire that had torn into the flesh on his back and given him burns that infected later. But now, as a free man the sun was a friend. He cherished it greatly. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped together in a loose hold between his slightly spread legs. The sun bathed his face and shoulders in a gentle warmth, and turned the darkness behind his eyelids into a gentle amber light. He took a breath to feel the wind pass through his body, held it for a moment, and relaxed.
Of course, he could only hear the bustle of the city with one ear. The other was forever dully ringing. It hadn't stopped ringing since his ears had been boxed by his former master after splintering a valuable piece of ash. He'd been beaten until blood trickled down the sides of his neck and pain splintered his skull. One ear had recovered. The other still rang with the blow. He didn't mind; the other ear had grown stronger to compensate, but he still held his head ever so slightly to the right to compensate for his bad left ear. His other gift from his life as an orphan was the network of thick scars on his back. Lashes. Thousands of them. Each one fibrous and pulling his flesh tight like a net. The other scars on his chest, grayed and filamented like the branches of some evil tree, were welcome. They were newer. Softer. The flesh had split open there like a rotten fruit, not been flayed from his spine, and his body had healed them well.
The product of his scars were nearby. Always in his head. Though he closed his eyes he was never alone. Ari and Oav were two halves of the same whole. As one man could not be himself without his anger or sorrow, so this Harvester was. They appeared as a pair of children, blackened by flames and death, their heads broken like pottery. Light shone from their gums, their throats, and served as tiny flaming orbs for eyes. They were linked by a strange, muscular umbilical cord stretched between their stomachs, that linked them inextricably. When one appeared so must the other. If one died so did the other. If one spoke, the other finished his thought. One body, two minds. They had been Joseph's companion for a while now, and he liked them. Though they were imbued with a child-like mischief they were content to be quiet if he wished it to be so. They understood him.
The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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