A Tamer's Lesson
The meal had flown by faster than anyone could quite account for. There had been a brief crisis thanks to one of Bar's blunders(?), but Rita's unwavering skill in the kitchen had done wonders to turn the mood back around.
Death, Bar, Amon.
They were a stranger trio the longer you looked at them. Their unusual air was one thing, but no matter how you sliced it, they simply did not look like men meant to serve as hired hands in someone else's house.
It was that particular presence unique to those of high station, you might say. Strangely enough, that aura radiated not only from Death but from Bar and Amon as well.
Their hierarchy was strict to a fault. The two younger brothers used flawless honorifics with their eldest, and a single look from Death was enough to make them go rigid mid-chatter, all their boisterous energy snapping taut in an instant.
"Delicious."
"It's insanely good! I knew it — Master is the best there is!"
"Miss Rita's cooking never grows old, no matter how much of it I eat. If only Bar's food could reach even half this flavor someday."
Each in his own fashion, they showered Rita's food with praise and thumbs-up, a picture of guileless sincerity — and yet every so often, a shadow would flicker across their faces, dark and unreadable.
"Is it really okay to just leave them be?"
After the meal, the whole group had moved out to the garden to soak up the sun over tea. Eli murmured it under his breath, watching Ingrid romp around with Bar.
"You saw him earlier. That guy was licking his chops at the sight of Ingrid. There's no telling what he might do."
True to his tamer's gift, Bar had hit it off with Ingrid from the moment they met that day. Just as the little owl had shown no shyness with the Chairman, he was entirely at ease with Bar too.
Not only did he fly over without a moment's hesitation whenever called, he flitted freely between Bar's arm, shoulder, and head, pouring out cheerful trills the whole while. Ever since Innocent, it seemed Ingrid had found himself a second best friend.
For his part, Bar — rough exterior notwithstanding — handled the little bird with an endless softness, from the tone of his voice to his gentlest of gestures. Granted, there had been that moment he'd gaped in amazement, calling a metamorph's chick the delicacy of all delicacies, but for the most part he regarded Ingrid with eyes full of warmth.
"Where is there even anything to eat on that scrawny little thing? And he's drooling over it? That whole friendly act is a front. Right now, in his head, he's nothing but visions of swallowing it whole in one bite."
"Eli, keep your voice down. He'll hear you."
"Bayul, think this through and change your mind. Keeping those three brothers here is bad for you too. Something ominous is bound to happen, I'm telling you."
"Eli, let me ask you one thing."
Aidan, who had been quietly staring at Ingrid and Bar at play, finally spoke up, as if he'd been holding something back.
"Do you have some kind of grudge against those brothers or what?"
"...What?"
"You've done nothing but trash-talk them since we sat down. Did they secretly do something terrible to you? You're the one who's practically salivating over how badly you want to eat those brothers, honestly."
"I'm not salivating. They just rub me the wrong way, that's all. I can't really put it into words — it's just a feeling. I don't like them."
"Don't tell me you're holding some kind of prejudice against them just because Bar and Amon's bodies are... you know."
"Is that what you take me for, some lowlife?"
"Good, then."
Any remaining worry he'd felt out of concern for his friend went utterly over Aidan's head. Instead, the boy rose to their defense.
"I saw them doing the dishes themselves after the meal. They fanned Rita while she cooked over a hot stove on a scorching day, complaining she'd worked so hard, and even brought her ice water. When Rita said her shoulders were stiff, Amon gave her a massage — professional level, seriously. I wanted one myself."
"Professional, my foot. Can't you see what this garden looks like? I honestly thought a swarm of locusts had passed through."
In the week they'd been away, a considerable number of strange, unclassifiable trees had sprouted up in the manor's garden.
"...I'm working on getting his tastes changed."
On this point, Bayul had no excuse to offer either. Amon would simply need a little more time.
"Bayul! You're taking their side too?"
"They do seem like good people, though...."
"The man ate a metamorph's chick! And you two don't find that disturbing at all?"
It had been genuinely shocking, to be fair. The image of Bar smacking his lips over a metamorph's chick — the delicacy of all delicacies — was still vivid in their minds. Aidan, with Ingrid perched on his head at the time, had instinctively stumbled backward a full step.
"Fine. I'm going to go ask him something."
There was some distance between the group's table and that of Death and his brothers. Suddenly, Aidan strode toward them, deliberate and unhesitating.
"Ingrid!"
At Aidan's call, the owl swooped over in a flash and nuzzled against his cheek. He had been beside himself with the excitement of play, but he knew perfectly well where his true place was.
"Um, may I ask you something?"
"Me?"
"Yes. It may be an impolite question."
Bar gazed fondly at Ingrid as the little bird hopped and fluttered about Aidan's shoulders, then gave a nod.
"Ask me anything."
"...It's about your arm. I heard you were hurt while taming. How does taming work, exactly?"
"And why's that suddenly got you curious?"
Aidan hesitated, glancing back at his friends.
Should I tell him?
Today had been a strange day all around. Not only had he learned for the first time that he was a tamer, he'd also found someone with the very same ability — someone he'd never once encountered in all his life — in this oddest of places.
He didn't know the details, but the man had apparently known of his own gift as a tamer for a long time, and had even made his living by it at one point. Honestly laying it all out and asking for advice was, for the Aidan of this moment, the best choice available.
"...The truth is, I'm a tamer too."
"You?"
"Ridiculous as it sounds, I only found out today."
"How'd you find out?"
"...That part's a little difficult to explain. It's not something that involves only me...."
"What is it? What's got you making that face and looking back over your shoulder every two seconds?"
When Aidan kept glancing back with a pitiful expression (that was how it looked to Eli, anyway), Eli lost patience and stomped over to join them. Worried his friend might cause a scene, Bayul hurried after him.
"I asked him about taming."
"Taming? Why would you ask that guy about taming?"
"He's a fellow tamer — who else am I supposed to ask? You, Eli? Are you going to teach me?"
Eli had apparently grown tired of flying into a rage over an obvious fact, because one sharp jab from Aidan shut him up on the spot, mouth agape. He had no comeback. Thought about it coldly, it really was an idiotic question.
Still, I don't like it. Why can't I stand those three?
Though he fell silent under the weight of Aidan's warning glare, Eli's wariness toward Death and his brothers refused to die down in the least.
"Bayul, may we talk about what happened today?"
"Before that — please promise me you won't tell Sir Ian or Rita."
If those two learned of today's events, it was only a matter of time before his father found out as well. Bayul wanted a firm commitment first.
"Agreed."
Death's permission was granted. Bar and Amon raised their hands and swore they would never breathe a word of it either.
"It's fortunate, really, that it's just us here."
Aidan laid out the events of the cedar hill in brief. There was no need to recount every last detail, so he confined himself to the parts concerning the assassin and the wolves. That much was more than enough to get the answers he needed.
"So you've always communed with animals and lived alongside them like friends, but today was the first time you ever commanded wolves. Is that right?"
"Yes. I'd never encountered a fierce beast like a wolf before. With other animals, they generally obliged whenever I asked nicely — so much so that I never even imagined forcing a command on any of them."
"Tsk, tsk. Well, there's your problem."
Bar clicked his tongue out of nowhere.
"Friends, huh? Nothing wrong with that. But tell me — if a friend gave you an order, would you obey it unconditionally? Well? Would you?"
Bar pointed at Bayul and Eli as he asked. Aidan answered in a tone dripping with disbelief.
"Isn't the very idea of friends giving each other orders absurd on its face?"
"You think so too, don't you?"
As if he'd been waiting for exactly those words, Bar broke into a grin.
"Taming isn't about asking. You command, the way a master commands a servant."
"...A master?"
He had never once thought of it that way. At the unfamiliar word, Aidan's face scrunched up, and Bar went on with his explanation.
"There's nothing wrong with approaching them like a friend. But only by making the hierarchy absolutely clear can you become a truly powerful tamer. Beasts aren't creatures you can win over through communication alone. They will never, ever bow to the weak."
"...Then why did those wolves follow my will? Not one of them — a full five of them, no less."
Aidan was no stronger than a wolf. Even with a weapon in hand, he couldn't have beaten one in single combat. Their strength and speed would have been a match for few knights, let alone an untrained boy.
"You've misunderstood me."
Bar spoke slowly, making sure every word landed.
"What you need to build isn't physical strength — not muscle, not raw power — but mental strength. You have to pierce into their minds with a force of thought powerful enough to dominate them. Willpower, fighting spirit, presence. Cultivating things like that would serve you well too."
"In other words — don't look weak. Ever."
Eli cut in with a jab of his own, and Bar looked mildly displeased, but he let it slide without comment.
"The wolves obeyed you today because you were that desperate. Desperation summons a ferocity of will. You got lucky, that's all."
Bar seemed like an entirely different person. The same man who got scolded by Rita day in and day out for his hopeless cooking, who occasionally misspoke and earned Death's rebuke, had transformed into a perfect advisor before their eyes.
Bayul had never once seen Bar talk this long or this lucidly. Even Death, who usually barked at him to shut up the moment he opened his mouth, had for some reason stayed quiet throughout — as if he acknowledged and respected his younger brother's gift for taming.
"So how does one go about building this mental strength?"
Aidan's questions kept coming. Having crossed paths with Bar today, the boy had resolved to clear up every last one of his curiosities while he had the chance.
"Why are you asking me that?"
But now, after answering everything so faithfully until now, Bar snapped back with sudden curtness.
"That part's for you to figure out yourself. I've told you plenty already. You expect me to spoon-feed you everything?"
"Well, no, but...."
As a flustered Aidan fumbled for words, Bar added one final remark.
"Start with the weak animals. That's as far as I can help you."
Coming from him, this was an extraordinary kindness. Anyone who knew Bar's true nature would never have believed the scene if they'd witnessed it.
"Bar! I need your help!"
Just then, Rita's voice came ringing out across the garden, calling for Bar.
"Yes, Master! Right away!"
Not a heartbeat of delay. Bar shot to his feet like lightning and dashed into the manor at a full sprint. His voice and manner were so unfailingly reverent that Aidan and Eli were left thoroughly bewildered.
It seemed the true power in this house wasn't Bayul after all. It was Rita.