By midday, everything had shifted from talk into movement. Yiannis didn’t waste time once he had an answer. What had been a silent house that morning turned into something more focused, people moving with purpose, supplies being gathered without needing to be listed out loud. It wasn’t rushed, but it was fast enough to make Charles pause and take it in.

Ten days, Yiannis had said.

Charles stood near the wagon, watching as the last of the preparations came together. It felt strange, adjusting to it. Not long ago, travel meant something entirely different. Schedules, machines, distances measured in hours. Now it was this. Horses, packed goods, a route that depended on land and weather and patience.

He let out a breath, more thoughtful than tired.

“So this is it,” he murmured.

Willahelm was nearby, checking the bindings one last time. “It seems so,” he said.

Charles nodded once, though his gaze lingered on the setup longer than necessary. “Ancient,” he added under his breath, not with complaint, just acknowledgment.

Yiannis approached from the side, already prepared, already settled into the kind of energy that came before a journey. “We’ll head north first,” he said. “To the gulf. Then inland from there.”

Charles looked at him, then at the wagon again.

“That sounds… long,” he said.

“It is,” Yiannis replied, though he didn’t seem bothered by it.

Charles considered that, then glanced at the horse beside Yiannis, then back at the wagon he was expected to ride in. He imagined the road, the uneven ground, the hours stretching without interruption.

For a brief second, something like reluctance surfaced.

“I see,” he said.

Yiannis caught the tone, just slightly. “You’ll be fine,” he added. “We won’t rush it.”

Charles gave a small nod, though he wasn’t entirely convinced that was the issue.

They set off soon after.

Yiannis rode alongside the wagon, keeping close without crowding it. He didn’t speak much at first, but his presence was constant, easy in a way that matched the rhythm of the road. The others followed at a steady pace, enough to keep the group together without turning it into something rigid.

Charles settled into his seat, adjusting to the movement as best as he could. The first stretch wasn’t too bad. Just enough to remind him that this was different from what he was used to.

Then the ground shifted.

The wheels hit uneven terrain, and the motion changed with it. Not violent, but persistent. The kind that didn’t let you forget it was there.

Charles closed his eyes briefly, letting his head rest back for a moment.

This is going to take a while.

He opened them again and glanced out toward Yiannis, who looked entirely at ease, like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

There was a brightness to him, something unrestrained, almost boyish in the way he carried it. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just forward.

Charles watched him for a second longer, then leaned back again.

“If I had known,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for Willahelm to hear, “I might have agreed to something simpler.”

Willahelm looked at him, confused. “Simpler, my lord?”

Charles shook his head slightly. “Nothing.”

He let the thought pass.

Ahead, Yiannis glanced back, catching sight of him, and smiled without holding it back.

Charles held his gaze for a brief moment, then looked away.

For now, there was no turning back.

And for reasons he still didn’t fully understand, he had agreed to follow it anyway.

By the time they reached the port again, the heat had settled in a way that didn’t let go. It pressed down from above and rose from the ground at the same time, leaving no space to escape it. Charles felt it almost immediately. It clung to his skin, slowed his thoughts, made even standing still feel like effort.

He watched the men load the wagon onto the boat, their movements practiced and steady despite the sun. The oxen were led carefully, the ropes tightened, the planks set in place. Everything followed a rhythm he hadn’t quite adjusted to yet.

“This won’t work,” Charles said under his breath.

Willahelm glanced at him. “My lord?”

“The heat,” Charles replied. “And the exposure.”

He didn’t wait for agreement. Instead, he turned and headed back toward the market, motioning for Willahelm to follow. They moved quickly through the stalls, gathering what he needed without overthinking it. Planks, rope, lengths of fabric thick enough to hold shade. Nothing refined, but enough.

Willahelm carried what he could, watching without questioning. He had seen this before. The way Charles approached a problem wasn’t loud or complicated. He simply adjusted the situation until it worked.

By the time they returned to the boat, the others were already in place, waiting for departure.

Charles didn’t join them.

He climbed onto the wagon instead.

“What are you doing,” Yiannis called up, not quite concerned, more curious.

“Improving it,” Charles replied.

He got to work without further explanation. The planks were set along the sides, reinforced with rope pulled tight and secured in place. The fabric stretched over the top, anchored where it could hold. It wasn’t elegant, and it wasn’t permanent, but it shifted the wagon into something else. A space with walls, a roof, enough cover to break the direct heat and create something close to comfort.

Yiannis watched from below, arms crossed loosely, his expression changing as the shape came together.

“You planned that,” he said.

Charles didn’t look down. “I adapted.”

It took time, but not as much as it should have.

When he finished, he stepped back slightly, assessing it. Not perfect. But usable.

Willahelm nodded once. “It will hold.”

Yiannis let out a small breath that might have been a laugh. “You just… built a room.”

Charles glanced at him. “A temporary one.”

The others gathered closer, looking it over with open interest. They all knew Charles was capable. They had heard enough. Seeing it was different.

Yiannis rested a hand briefly against the side, testing the build. “It’s good,” he said. “More than good.”

Charles didn’t respond to the praise. He simply climbed inside, settling into the shaded space as if it had always been meant to be there.

The boat pushed off not long after.

For the next three days, the water replaced the road. The movement was different, less jarring, but constant in its own way. Charles stayed within the wagon, choosing the stillness of the space he had made over the open deck.

At night, the air cooled just enough to ease the weight of the day.

On the first night, when the others had settled, Charles shifted slightly, looking toward the entrance where Yiannis lingered.

“You can come in,” Charles said.

Yiannis hesitated. “It’s fine. I can sleep outside.”

“There’s space,” Charles replied.

“That’s not the issue.”

Charles watched him for a second, then tilted his head slightly. “You think it’s inappropriate.”

Yiannis didn’t answer.

“That’s a yes,” Charles said.

Yiannis exhaled, looking away. “It’s just—”

Charles cut him off, not sharply, just enough to redirect. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I’m not,” Yiannis said, though it didn’t sound convincing.

Charles’s lips curved faintly. “Then prove it.”

Yiannis glanced at him again, caught between refusing and stepping forward. The hesitation didn’t last long. Eventually, he gave in, stepping inside with a sort of resignation.

“Just for tonight,” he said.

Charles didn’t argue.

They settled into the space, close enough that the distance between them didn’t quite exist. Yiannis lay still, his posture tense in a way that didn’t match the silence around them.

Time passed.

Charles noticed.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said.

“I will,” Yiannis replied, though his voice gave him away.

Charles shifted slightly, then reached out without much thought, his hand resting briefly, then moving in a slow, steady motion meant to calm rather than distract.

Yiannis stilled at first, then his breath changed, the tension easing in small increments.

“Relax,” Charles said quietly.

Yiannis didn’t answer this time.

Within a few moments, his breathing evened out, the earlier restlessness fading into something quieter. Sleep came easier than he expected.

Charles withdrew his hand once he was sure.

He lay back, eyes open for a while longer, listening to the soft rhythm beside him.

It was unfamiliar.

But not unpleasant.

There was something new in the way Charles watched Yiannis after that first night. It wasn’t obvious at first, not something anyone else would notice, but it stayed with him. A attention, a kind of focus that lingered longer than before. He found himself looking for small shifts in Yiannis, the way his shoulders eased, the way his expression softened when he relaxed without realizing it.

It gave him a sense of… completion. Not emotion, not exactly, but something close enough that he didn’t dismiss it.

And that unsettled him more than anything else had.

He didn’t question it right away. He let it sit, the way he always did, observing it from a distance as if it belonged to someone else. But the thought came anyway, uninvited and clear.

Mine.

Charles stilled the moment it formed.

The word didn’t fit how he understood himself. It wasn’t something he had used before, not like this. Not with anyone. And yet it had arrived without effort, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to surface.

He didn’t push it away.

He just… noticed.

By the fourth day, they had reached land again.

The shift from water back to solid ground was immediate. The air felt heavier, the movement less forgiving. What had been a steady drift became a measured journey once more. Yiannis explained the route ahead as they prepared to continue inland, his tone steady but carrying that same excitement.

“Five days to the town,” he said. “Maybe more after that to reach the top.”

Charles listened, his gaze drifting toward the path ahead. It stretched further than he would have chosen, uneven and uncertain.

“I see,” he said.

There was no complaint in it, but the thought lingered all the same.

Each night followed a pattern after that.

They rested where they could, the rhythm of travel settling into something familiar. Yiannis would fall asleep easily some nights, restless on others, and Charles found himself stepping in without being asked. A hand, a word, something small to ease the tension that built without reason.

It became routine before either of them named it.

Yiannis would blush sometimes, turning away as if that might hide it, but he never refused. Not once. The hesitation stayed, but it softened each time, replaced by something quieter, something that didn’t need explanation.

Charles adjusted with each night, not out of intention, but instinct. He learned what worked, what didn’t, what made Yiannis settle faster. It wasn’t calculated. It just… happened.

On the fifth night, something shifted again.

Not in a way that needed to be spoken about, not in a way that either of them tried to explain. It was just a moment that held longer than the others, a pause that carried more weight than it should have.

Yiannis drew in a breath, sharper than usual, then let it go slowly.

Charles looked up at him, catching the change, the way his composure slipped just enough to reveal something real underneath. Not control. Not restraint. Just feeling, unfiltered and immediate.

It stayed there between them for a second.

Then it passed.

They didn’t talk about it after.

They lay back in the silence that followed, the night settling around them like it always did, but something about it felt different now. Not louder, not heavier.

Just… closer.

And for once, Charles didn’t try to distance himself from it.