Priorities

Not long after the woman called Enella left, the teenage attendant who helped him bathe returned. When he greeted Ryujin, it sounded like his name was Allan or Allen with an 'h'. He decided to just call him Ahl in his head.

Ahl gestured for the other servants to enter, and trays covered in silver cloches were brought inside the bedchamber.

One sniff was all it took for Ryujin to realize what they were.

Food!

Cooked food!

His first real meal since the apocalypse!

Ryujin didn't need any urging as he began walking towards the attendants, but Ahl, who seemed to be in-charge, was frightened by his action. He repeatedly urged Ryujin back to bed. 

Though Ryujin could not understand the words themselves, the teenager's tone was pleading. 

Ugh. He reminds me of Eu.

In the end, Ryujin sat at the edge of the bed.

He had been in this bed for who knew how long. There's a table and chairs in one corner of the chamber. That should be the allocated area for eating or having afternoon tea. 

Shouldn't it be fine to eat there? 

Wasn't it improper for a perfectly healthy man to eat a meal in bed?

Cringe came to him when one of the attendants lifted a spoon filled with broth toward his lips.

What the—I'm not disabled!

He turned his head away.

The attendant blinked. 

[Oh, come on, Your Grace. Just a little sip.]

The attendant tried again, but Ryujin refused to open his mouth.

The attendants shared worried looks. They seemed to be asking if he's not hungry or if he did not like the food.

Ryujin shook his head again and raised his hand slowly. He pointed toward the large windows, beyond which the sky stretched in soft hues of late afternoon. 

A balcony. 

There was a table with chairs there too.

He wanted to eat there.

Everyone turned towards the teenager. Ahl hesitated, then sighed. He spoke to the one trying to spoon feed Ryujin, but he was already setting the tray aside. 

Ryujin almost smirked. Almost.

It took time, and more unnecessary assistance than he would have liked, but soon he was sitting outside, the crisp wind teasing his long, silver hair.

Under the balcony was a vast garden maze, with red and white roses blooming in decadence. Ryujin could only gape at the expanse of greenery as far as his eyes could see. At the end of the garden seemed to be a cluster of trees thick enough to be a forest.

Ryujin took that chance to look around.

How large is this place? I can't even imagine the manpower needed to take care of this mansion, no, palace. 

He then caught sight of armored men patrolling the entrance of the garden. 

Well, I guess this Valtheris Empire should be a really wealthy and powerful nation.

Hmm, strange. 

If I'm a duke, why am I staying in the imperial palace? From what I gathered, I've been unconscious for at least a week, probably longer. Shouldn't I be recuperating inside my own home?

That Empress Dowager does not seem to like me. It's better and safer for me to stay out of her sight. In fact, it's best I stay out of everyone's radar. I don't want to raise suspicion.

Now that I think about it, does Rio de Carvalho not have a family? Do they not know I woke up? Why aren't they visiting? Or maybe they'll arrive later…?

The metal of the chair was cold against his skin, but the air carried the scent of the world—distant rain, fresh flowers, and the promise of something beyond the herbs and incense inside the bedchamber he had woken up in.

The contents of the tray were placed before him. Bread. Fruits. Stew. Simple things, yet they felt extravagant. 

This time, he lifted the spoon himself. The first sip of broth was almost too hot, but it tasted like the most delicious food he had ever eaten in his life. 

He swallowed, his tongue and throat protesting, but he didn't stop.

The attendants standing on the side were all grinning, seemingly happy their master was eating heartily.

Ryujin dipped a piece of bread into the stew. He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. His body, so long dormant, hummed with the simple, overwhelming relief of nourishment.

The attendants softly chattered amongst themselves, but they had a shared expression on their faces, seemingly saying:

"Just keep eating."

And Ryujin did. Under the open sky, with the wind teasing the corners of his coat and the world stretching far beyond the railings, he ate. 

Understanding his situation, searching for his comrades, surviving in the palace politics, returning to Earth, all of those could wait. He first needed to eat.

For the first time in a long, long time, Ryujin felt alive.