Altair was disappointed that this stranger didn't know any more of his language. He missed the decadent way it rolled off the tongue. He wished that he had someone to speak it with, even if that person was not the most fluent. Snow didn't know more than the greeting he'd spoken, and Altair frowned. He wouldn't stop him from speaking it but no one would understand him. Snow kept on, filling in the holes that Altair was obviously ignorant of. Igna's End was a part of Weiss. A land without slavery. Cygnus had already explained this to him, yet what had been his original attention in bringing Altair to them then? Some benefactor of his, yet without a doubt more coin could have been earned selling him into a place where slavery was accepted.<br/><br/>Diens was not a slave, yet he served. There were no slaves in Weiss. Not true ones.<br/><br/>“Weiss sounds like a land of contradictions. How does one end up bound to a family, yet maintain their freedom? Is it only in that he's made the choice? That isn't so different from Dusan. A lot of slaves there choose their masters.” Altair let out a tired huff, fingers rubbing against the material he was tethered up against. He was confused, not truly understanding the difference. A slaves purpose was to serve. So was Dein's, only he wasn't. Perhaps it was all the same thing, only they didn't like using the word.<br/><br/>Altair closed his eyes, trying to process everything in his foggy mind, and remember all that he'd read on the country he would soon land in. Was this better than whatever Cygnus had planned? It had to be. He'd promised someone vile. This stranger was still unknown, but at least he'd not be climbed and mounted in the first few minutes upon waking. Altair would deal with that later if circumstances changed. None of this was ideal, especially knowing that where he was going was not so common a travel destination for visitors. On top of that, his skin was marked and hideous. Vanity was not on his side and likely even in Dusan he would never be fit to serve nobility ever again. They would not enjoy the assumptions made as such a crudely scarred slave. Ellanians would not care though, so perhaps that ought to be his goal if ever given opportunity to sail out of Weiss.<br/><br/>“I do not crave freedom,” Altair told him weakly. It would be no gift to him. With freedom came a great deal of responsibility and he had no idea how to make a life for himself on his own. He'd never imagined he'd need such skill set. He did still want to be untied though, saving his energy because they'd not moved towards him. Instead, they looked at him with speculation and suspicion. Still men of contradiction.<br/><br/>“You are men of contradictions. No slaves, yet you bind the half-dead.” Altair didn't understand why. He had no idea that they suspected him of being a criminal. Weak as he was he doubted he could do little more than curl his limbs up underneath himself. At least they'd had some forethought not to bind him on his back, but even the blankets he felt laid across him felt heavy and uncomfortable against his damaged skin. That, or maybe it was just throbbing as he was brought to awareness.