Allen landed at a lower part of the roof, he slid down it as sparks came out his body. He couldn't hear anything, except for the ringing left by the explosion. He couldn't tell where his breath came from nor could he speak on where he was in general. "I will not cry," he believed to have thought as he slowly regained his sight and hearing. "Am I even alive," he murmured out as Harry landed before him, cracking a spot on the blue painted wooden roof of the manor.
Harry stroked his silver beard while he looked down on Allen. He finally took notice of Allen's tattered and slightly burnt white tunic. "When was the last time you got new clothes," Harry asked Allen. He waited for an answer, but the silence gave enough of a response. "Are you still alive?"
Allen's whole body twitched, with a ever quivering head, he manages to turn it toward Harry. He could not see the face that looked down upon him, but he could tell from the fine tan leather boots and brown trousers that his master was before him.
Harry watched as Allen struggled to collect himself and rise from the roof. He stumbled around, coughing and gasping for air with each joint moved. His arms shook when he rested them on his knees, and his legs barely contained the energy to stand upright. The process looked pathetic and it was a painful few seconds. Once Allen had finally rose his sight had somewhat returned to him. His breathing was ragged and he swayed with the slightest push from the wind. Despite it all, he rose to his feet and put his hands up preparing to fight.
"Do you want a break?"
"Yes."
"Have I ever given you a break before?"
"Never sir. Not until the job was done."
"Really?"
"Yes sir."
"I could have sworn that I did. Do you know the exact amount of times I beat you, whipped you, treated you like a slave?"
"No sir, I lost count."
"Me too. It all feels like one big blur. Doesn't it feel like that to you too?"
"No sir," Allen's eyes sharpened, "I only said I lost count. I still remember the feeling of each of them."
"Doesn't it make you want to cry? Why don't you cry?"
"I can endure it. I worked hard to endure it all."
"Work hard? Didn't you eat a beetle as a child? That probably gave you resistances like no other. You've stolen everything you have now."
"You're wrong!"
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"Yes, I am, Harry!"
Harry's facial expression remained emotionless as he stopped stroking his silver beard and began scratching his patchy white hair. "What gives you the right to call me a liar?"
"You lied to me."
"When?"
"When you told me I couldn't be special."
"You think I'm lying, because I said you couldn't be special. Are you an idiot? I thought you gained some kind of wisdom from that snail you ate, but I guess not. No amount of food can heal stupidity it seems. Alright, let's say you're special now. Shall we list your current strengths and weaknesses? Your strength is your appetite for mana infused creatures. Your weakness is your inability to do a single thing for yourself. Everything in your life has been handed to you on a silver platter. The food you eat, the fun times you had, the life you live now, the very thoughts in your head. I am the one who brought those to you. Your freedom is on my hands, not yours, mine! My beatings taught you to be patient, to be resilient. My lessons of death taught you reality. Yet you come to me asking to be emancipated! From what? From my generosity? Would you rather have a whore of a mother, a drunk father? I gave you an opportunity to become something more, to propel someone else to do their duty. You had your duty! Listen to what I had to say! I could have passed this farm onto you. You could have owned it half and half with Sylver. You got greedy! You had to ruin my plans for you. You're a disappointment, a waste of 15 years of my hard work! You leave for 2 months and think you can waltz back in here asking for emancipation. You will never be free, you will leave this farm a dog to the Hunter's Guild. Hunting whatever godforsaken beast, whatever innocent living creature with the most expensive body part. You'll live an unremarkable life, and just when you finally feel like you're going somewhere a burden appears and takes over your life. Then you have to spend the next 45 years being the owner of the most productive farm of the MErlIn KinGdoM, A SLAVE TO THE MERLIN KINGDOM! So answer my question, do you seriously wholeheartedly believe that I am lying to you?"
Silence rose between the two of them, Allen stood there with spit in his face. Harry's nose injury opened as it bled again halfway through his rant. He had veins popping out of his forehead, his bushy eyebrows crooked.
Allen scratched his nose, straightned himself out, cleared his throat, then dragged his foot and some bits and pieces of the roof along. He ignited his hands and dropped the urge to smile. The air around them was suffocating, "Yes, you're a liar."