Edited by Iseul

The following morning began calm, as it always did. The village would rouse and the sheep flocked across the fields to graze. 

But the hill was silent in contrast to the rousing village, Julian was known for his habit of sleeping in.

Atop of the sorry hovel, Dog rested. The wyvern pup stretched lazily, basking in the first stream of sunlight that came with dawn. Outside the shack, there were piles of random shit. 

Trunks of stuff, the old armor, and way too many potted plants to count. The stuffed bear still had a place indoors though, allowing it to remain safe from the elements.

Dog yawned, flicking out its forked tongue to taste the wing, but it was movement in the corner of its eye that caught its attention. The wyvern pup tilted its head in curiosity as a figure stepped outside of its master's home.

Dog tilted its tiny head in curiosity, unused to seeing a person emerge from the house at such an early hour. The beast wasn’t quite sure if it was the doctor. Confused, Dog stretched its wings and flew down to inspect the odd sight further.

To the wyvern pup's shock, it really was the doctor who was outside at such an early hour. It squealed out of surprise, circling around Julian as would a hungry fly.

"Shut up," Julian grumbled as he stretched, swatting at the flying beast that fluttered too close. "It's too early to hear your complaints."

Who said Dog was complaining?

Of course, Julian didn’t know. Nor did he really care.

Today, Julian did not bring his walking stick. A blueiron armor surrounded his lame leg. It cuffed the upper thigh and locked above and below the knee joint before tapering down into what appeared no different than an armored boot. That was, aside from the veins of blue that glowed along the sides of the armor. A bluestone glowed at the very top of the blueiron armor, fueling the mechanism with flowing mana.

The device was of Julian's creation. Here out in the sticks without quality materials, money, or much mana of his own left, this hulking contraption was the best that he could manage. Because of the clumsy design and even clumsier materials, it wouldn’t take that long for the bluestone to overheat and begin burning into his flesh. Time was already ticking.

Yet, Julian didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He tested his weight on both legs and stretched his spine. He then took off his glasses to give them a careful wipe down, inspecting them in the light to ensure that they’re clean.

It wasn't often he put on his blueiron leg and when he did, Julian loved nothing more than taking his time. With this device, he could retrace the forest trail with relative ease.

Julian did just that, retracing the trail he had taken the day prior. Morning birds sang him serenades as he passed. Spring was slowly melting into summer and the air grew thick with humidity.

Julian returned to the site where the inquisitor was found and poked around to see if there was anything left to salvage. But it seemed that he wasn't the first person to come by since they retrieved the man. Much of the items left behind had been scavenged; from his coat to his leather armor and obsidian gauntlets.

The witch slayer, however, was still here lying on the ground. Whatever thieves that came by probably hadn’t been too interested in the cursed blade. Not only was the witch slayer a dangerous weapon, but it was also rumored to be cursed. The blackened steel was fashioned to slay mages and trap their ghosts within and bring about misfortune.

Cautiously, Julian plucked the blade from the ground. It wasn't as heavy as it looked but there was definitely something about the metal that made him shudder. He decided that he wasn't a fan of the thing.

Without anything left of value, Julian searched for clues of the inquisitor’s origins. The trails that he found were no longer fresh, but Julian could tell that they pointed northeast. A town called Fauster lay in that direction, past a dense patch of forest, right at the base of a long mountain range.

The villagers in Gostven called Fauster a city, but to Julian, it was just another shit town like many others that dotted the map. Did the inquisitor have trouble there? Julian would have to keep an ear out for rumors coming from that direction.

Satisfied with his little trip, Julian made his way back home, bringing the witch slayer with him.

It wasn’t long before his morning stroll came to an end. Out of the forest, Julian followed the trail back to his little house on the hill. 

Seeing the piles of his belongings left outside made him feel a little troubled. Julian did not like that he had to move so many of his treasures just to make room for that new enigmatic guest.

With a heavy sigh, he sat on one of the trunks that he left outside, slowly peeling off the blueiron armor off his leg. He grimaced, his leg already feeling exceptionally tender from the device. After removing it, Julian carefully hid it in one of the trunks, making sure that it was out of sight.

Blueiron armors siphoned power directly from a mage’s circuits; the wearer would instantly be incriminated as a mage. Which would undoubtedly incite his inquisitor guest to cut him down. Sure, there were many other things around Julian's home that were considered illegal in the eyes of the New Regime, but punishment for using magical tools was not quite the same as being found guilty of being a mage.

Better not take any chances. 

Luckily, there was no sure-fire way of identifying a mage, so long as they do not actively use their circuits.

Julian took a deep breath. His circuits were so fried in the first place that it was a miracle he could still cast spells at all. He was confident that he wouldn't be easily discovered, as long as the other villagers didn't blabber about his powers.

…That was a problem he would deal with later.

For now, he found his walking stick and stood. He left the witch slayer by the Old Armor, deciding that it looked rather aesthetic. His front door clicked open and he stepped inside.

It was quiet. The hairs on Julian's nape instantly stood up. The cot that had been occupied by the stranger now lay empty. Julian even tried to tie the stranger down, but the rope and cloth used to secure his enigmatic guest were undone, tossed aside. How he got himself free was beyond Julian, but he wasn’t given much time to ponder the thought.

He froze. A cold edge touched Julian’s neck, causing him to tilt his head up slightly to avoid the sharp blade. A tall figure was flush against him, radiating warmth against Julian’s back. Soft breathing tickled his ear.

With false bravado, Julian smirked. "So this is how I'm repaid after saving your life? Hah! Laughable. Kids these days really know no manners."

“…”

The knife pressed even closer, denting the soft skin on Julian’s neck. Julian feared that even swallowing could cause the blade to cut into his jugular.

He leveled his voice, trying to sound more amiable. "...I'm Julian, but most people here just call me Doctor."

“…”

"Alright…" Julian dragged out the word, feeling a little antsy at the lack of reaction. Was this some sort of inquisition interrogation method? It was certainly unnerving. "Now would be a fine time to offer your name."

Julian didn't like that he was leaning flush against the man's chest either. It made him feel small in comparison. And he disliked how he could pick up the languid calm strum of the stranger's heart, not showing even the slightest bit of anxiety. Not to mention, this idiot really shouldn’t be standing up in the first place. That wound on his abdomen wasn’t going to heal overnight! Agitating it would undo all of Julian’s hard work. But the doctor wasn't stupid enough to scold a person literally holding a knife to his throat.

Another moment passed. 

Julian was quietly counting down the seconds but he refused to lose composure in front of this brute, opting to stand perfectly still.

What felt like an eternity later, Julian was allowed reprieve. The knife was pulled away and Julian released a breath as he scowled, rubbing the skin that was abused by a sharp edge. A little bit of blood was left on his fingertips, causing him to scrunch his nose up in distaste. The fucker.

Julian was a little distracted when the stranger finally spoke. "Leonel."

“What?”

Relaxing was Julian's mistake. He had spent too many years living in tranquility. Just as he was about to turn around to take a good look at his unworthy patient, a sharp blow snapped against his neck.

His consciousness went out like a candle in the wind.

"The name's Leonel."