Edited by Iseul

Julian sat in silence. The night was dark and the fireplace crackled. The bowl in his hands was growing cold, but he couldn't muster the will to eat the last of his meal despite the emptiness in his stomach. The trunk that he sat on was rather hard and digging into his bony ass, but he was also too lazy to stretch or adjust. 

“Are you listening?” Leonel suddenly spoke, a concerned frown present on his face. 

“Hm?” Julian blinked and hid his blunder with a winning grin. He leaned against his fist, elbow resting on his knee. “I’ll be looking forward to the moment you leave,” he chirped. Somehow, the words lacked sincerity. “Speaking of which, let's change your bandages and see how those injuries are doing."

Leonel bristled. "I already said I can do it myself."

"Who's the doctor here?" Julian stood, hands on his hips. He raised a brow at the overgrown child that he had accidentally taken in.

But the inquisitor continued with his indignant stubbornness. “…I don’t need your help.”

“With my help, you will heal much faster. Thus, you can leave sooner as well. Now, now, I know that you’re sad about the prospect of parting with this beautiful specimen,” Julian motioned shamelessly at himself, “But alas, we weren't meant to be. Let me fix you up, and you can go on your way before you fall even deeper in love."

Leonel’s scowl deepened further. His distorted features made Julian laugh.

“Alright, I’ll give you a moment,” the doctor singsonged before turning around. “But don’t take too long, okay?” With a wink, he returned inside.

Leonel clicked his tongue, watching the doctor retreat from the corner of his eye. There was an annoyance that bubbled within, for reasons he couldn’t name. Julian had a point. The faster that Leonel healed, the sooner he could leave. And then the sooner he could make his next move.

Speaking of which, Leonel had an important decision to make.

The past few days had been deceptively calm, peaceful almost, and it made Leonel forget about the dire straits he was in. 

Back in Fauster, there had been a betrayal. And Leonel unwittingly got caught up in the mess. He cradled his head with his right hand, scowling at past mistakes.

He recalled a memory. 

Just a few weeks ago he had been in the capital, invited for tea with the high oracle, Divine Cecilia.

He had met her in the Temple of Light, where she welcomed him in her office. Tall statues of saints stood at either side of her desk. The stained glass window behind her seat depicted the day of the Reckoning when the Divine Light Herself would descend from the heavens and purge the land of sinners. 

Everything about Divine Cecilia’s office was oppressive, and Leonel despised being there. 

Divine Cecilia herself was shrouded in her holy garbs; sweeping white robes and a golden shawl. She had a veil that obscured her eyes and Leonel hated how it made it even easier for her to hide her intent. Her pale, rosy lips quirked up and she motioned to the stone chair in front of her. “Take a seat, Inquisitor Leonel.”

Leonel strode up to her desk, watching her dainty, pale fingers slowly pour tea out of the pot. She was an older woman, but it was difficult to tell. Even from her hands appeared milky and soft to touch. Leonel didn’t take a seat. 

“Divine Cecilia.” He kept his greeting curt. “What do you need me for?”

Her small smile did not leave her lips despite Leonel’s disobedience. Even though he remained standing, she still slowly pushed a delicate teacup forward. “Help yourself, my dear.” Her voice was melodious, like the humming of a songbird. 

“…” Seeing that she was slow and without hurry, he held back a scowl and cautiously reached for the cup. He did not care much for tea and much-preferred coffee. But he sampled it anyway, sipping too quickly and burning his tongue.

“What do you think, my child?”

“…Not really to my tastes, it’s…too sweet.”

She laughed at his clumsiness. Seeming pleased with his behavior, the high oracle finally explained, “There is a case Fauster that I would like you to investigate.”

Leonel frowned as he returned the teacup to the desk, unwilling to drink the rest of the tea. “Fauster?”

“It’s a small town to the north,” was all that Cecilia offered before continuing. “I have good reason to suspect the viscount of treason to the New Regime. He’s been cleverly evading taxes through bribes and false reports. I wish to know if he is a lost lamb at the behest of foolishness, or perhaps he thinks himself a cunning wolf, too mighty for the Divine Light to know of his sins.”

“…” In other words, she wished to know if he was a simple criminal motivated by greed, or if he had some sort of grand plan or scheme against the crown. Leonel scowled at the thought of this entire situation. “This has nothing to do with me. I don’t see why I’m to be sent to investigate tax evasion of all things. I'm an inquisitor, not an enforcer.”

Divine Cecilia tilted her head. “Oh, don’t you know? The viscount’s late wife was an Astrum Magus. She was exceptionally close to King Amari.”

Leonel flinched at the mention of Amari’s name. There was once a time the very whisper of the late Mage King would send Leonel into a blind rage.

But he had grown wiser now, more calloused. Even the passionate burn of vengeance mellowed out into an endless gnawing drawl. Not bright, but ever-present, like a disease he'd grown used to living with. He could recognize when someone used his vengeance as leverage against him, to use him to their advantage.

That was exactly what Divine Cecilia was doing. That was exactly what she had done for the past seven years. It was suddenly all extremely clear. And Leonel was starting to think that this woman likely had no mind to help him at all.

He swallowed, fingers twitching, itching to curl into fists. Leonel forced his body to maintain composure, to seem relaxed when his blood boiled. “I see,” was all that he said.

Cecilia hummed approvingly, taking his lack of response as an affirmative. “I will provide you with some funding for your mission. If there is any special assistance that you need, please let it be known. You are of great help to the Divine Light, my child and I will do my utmost to help you in turn.” Again, that subtle smile. Leonel wished that he could see her eyes.

He gave a small nod. “Thank you for looking out for me.” And with that, he turned around and left.

Looking back, he wished he hadn’t agreed. He wished he had spoken up right there and then. That yes, he was searching for the Astrum Magi, but no, he had no interest in one that was already dead.

It was all too late now.

Leonel had gone to Fauster. Things got out of hand and he wanted nothing more to do with it. He didn’t even want anything to do with Divine Cecilia anymore if he could help it. 

That didn’t mean that Leonel should stay in Gotsven though. There was a possibility that he was now a wanted man after what he had done. And plus, it was clear that he wasn’t welcome.

He still had the Astrum Magi to find. 

He still had his vengeance to take care of.

To find the rat that fled the castle all those years ago; to take care of Mage King Amari once and for all.

Leonel scoffed at his thoughts, feeling annoyed at the flare of emotion. He tossed aside the stick he’d been using to prod the flames. A strange feeling lingered in his heart, a reluctance about leaving so soon. He acquainted it with his moral conscience, reminding him that there was still a debt he hadn’t paid to the doctor.

Leonel grimaced while gathering the dirty bowls and placing them into a bucket of water to soak. Next, he made sure to put out the fire.

Since when did he care about debts? Leonel had collected so many in the past seven years.

Maybe time had made him soft. His anger and rage are no longer as bright as they had once been. He chided at himself and his weakness.

There was still a vow yet unfulfilled, revenge that was waiting to be taken.

"..." Leonel's eyes were vacant, bored as he watched the smoke rise from where the fire had burned. 

His reveries were only broken by a muffled voice that came from within the small hut, “…come…already! Don’t…all day!”

Absently, Leonel yelled back, "I'm coming! Stop shouting!" He put his emotions aside and strutted into the house. 

Now that the shack was clear of all that the useless crap, it seemed surprisingly spacious for how quaint it looked from the outside. Leonel could actually swing his arm without fear of knocking something over. The doctor was already seated next to the cot, his tools, and ointments ready at his side.

Julian patted the cot impatiently. "Come now, son. No need to be afraid, I'll be gentle I promise." He winked before cackling at his words. The little wyvern pup that was at his foot made strange chuffing sounds, as though it too, was joining in on the laughter.

Leonel had no idea what was even funny. And yet, the corner of his mouth twitched as he approached, threatening to break into a smile. He set himself down on the cot. "Thought you didn't want me to fall in love with you, old man."

"I suppose not," Julian hummed before ordering Leonel to take off his garments. "But alas, it appears you have no choice in the matter. I'm irresistible after all."

"Keep on dreaming." Fabric rustled as Leonel slipped out of his clothes, first his shirt and then the trousers. Absently, he wondered why Julian even had these pieces that obviously did not fit the skinny doctor.

Probably for the same reason he owned all the other useless junk.

Said doctor continued to spew nonsense, "Yes, yes, wallow in denial longer if that's what keeps you sane. I know that you think me pretty in your heart of hearts.”

Leonel rolled his eyes. No matter how pretty, an old man was still an old man. For whatever reason, he kept this retort to himself. 

Julian started with Leonel’s right leg first, unbinding the hemp and inspecting the scars. He whistled, impressed. "It truly marvels me just how quickly you inquisitors can heal."

"Told you I'd be fine."

Julian still washed the wound for good measure but decided it didn't need to be bandaged anymore. "Just don't do anything to irritate it or re-open it, you hear me?"

The inquisitor scoffed, which earned him a pinch on his leg. He hissed and glared at the annoying doctor. "I won't."

"Good, good that's what I want to hear." Satisfied, Julian moved to the arm. The swelling had gone down but he was still worried about the fracture. He wound it back up tightly after cleaning and slathering it again with ointment.

Lastly, there was only the circuit wound on the inquisitor’s torso. From the way that Leonel flinched when Julian’s fingertips grazed over the area, he had a bad feeling about this.