Second Intermission (6)

Raul and the knights descended into the tunnel to check if any corpses had been left behind. Their goal was to identify human remains, not the nameless ashes scattered about.

The villagers trapped in the tunnel were understandably terrified and starving, but fortunately, none of them were seriously injured. The punitive force cleared away the debris from the collapsed village and gathered broken pieces of wood to light a bonfire.

I started thinking about a meal that could help the exhausted people regain their strength.

The knights seemed intent on throwing rock-hard biscuits into boiling water to make a bland porridge, but I figured steamed eggs would be a better choice. I set a large pot of water to boil, carefully whisked eggs in a bowl, and strained out the stringy bits. Adding a bit of water to the mixture, I folded in finely chopped vegetables, creating a colourful blend. The eggs were fresh, and thanks to Leonardo's meticulous chopping, the vegetable pieces were evenly sized, preventing them from clumping at the bottom.

"The water's boiling," someone called out.

Vittorio came running, a bit of ash smudged on his forehead. I poured the egg mixture into a smaller pot and placed it inside the larger pot to steam thoroughly with the rising heat. Before long, the steamed eggs came out smooth and tender, their pale yellow surface glistening gently.

The steamed egg was portioned out like slices of cake and distributed. The villagers could easily swallow the soft eggs and the tender, steam-cooked vegetables that practically melted in their mouths. Slowly, they seemed to regain their composure.

"Only now does it feel real that we've escaped that horrible monster's den…"

While helping an injured villager with their meal, I mingled naturally among them and cautiously asked,

"I can't even imagine what you went through down there. What happened?"

"A nightmare… it was a nightmare," the villager whispered, trembling.

"There was always a talking serpent and a grotesque creature with a coiled tongue watching us. At first, it was just the snake's head, but later, another appeared…"

It seemed they were describing the two-headed viper Leonardo had dealt with and the monstrous serpent that met its end in the tunnel.

"A talking monster? Goodness, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it," I responded with an appropriate mix of shock and understanding.

The villager, now agitated, began breathing heavily as they relived the horror.

"But we were witnesses! We saw it with our own eyes, the creation of that vile, sacrilegious monster!"

His eyes rolled halfway back as he raised his voice for everyone to hear. He vividly described how the creature's body was hollowed out, emptied, and filled with "something else." Then, what emerged a short while later.

By the end, his voice grew hoarse, but he added with a bitter laugh, "After they created another monster, they left us alone. I suppose it's a miracle we survived at all… At least we can warn others."

It was clear that the tale of these nameless ones would spread, unstoppable. Having been given a 'role,' however shallow, I could insert myself into the narrative's flow. Perhaps, by the third act, we'd be fighting not only the monsters and Godric but also these nameless abominations.

"Thanks to your resilience, others can prepare for this new threat. Do you have any idea why they took you?" I asked gently, trying not to push too hard.

The villager huddled their exhausted body and replied slowly, "Probably to keep us as food."

That was all they could offer.

'But the nameless ones don't need to eat. They're corpses. And the reason they target me isn't hunger, either…'

They want my place. My name. My significance.

If they weren't trying to increase their numbers, why did they even bother keeping the villagers alive?

When I returned to Leonardo, he had already assigned an empty wagon to transport the rescued villagers.

"We can't just leave them here. I plan to escort them to the next city we'll stop at for supplies. It's about four days away."

By then, the sun had fully set, and it was a dark, late hour.

The punitive force fed more logs into the bonfire and cleared a space among the debris to set up sleeping quarters. Leonardo, as always, pitched his own tent. He claimed it was more efficient to do it himself rather than assigning the task to the knights, and he had stuck to that routine from the very first day. With Vittorio's skillful assistance, the process was quick.

Whenever I wandered too close to the fluttering canvas, however, I was promptly shooed away, so I could only watch from a distance.

For reasons I couldn't quite understand, the royal stewards, who were meticulous enough to pack winter clothes for Vittorio, had entirely neglected to include our tent. This left us sharing Leonardo's, as though the lack of space was merely coincidental.

Sure, they must've just run out of room in the wagons.

By the time I had lit a brazier to warm the tent, prepared bedding, and spread out the blankets, Vittorio peeked his head inside.

"They said the water from the well hasn't frozen yet. You can still wash up if you want."

"Oh? That's good to hear."

I already felt grimy from the aftermath of the battle, so the thought of washing up was a welcome relief. Leonardo, too, seemed pleased by the news.

"They're heating the water since it's so cold. I'll fetch it," Vittorio offered brightly.

Before I could stop him, he darted out of the tent. Carrying enough water for three people alone would be a heavy task. Just as I turned to follow him, Leonardo placed a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down onto the bedding.

"The knights will help him. He's made quite a few friends during training," he said calmly.

"Hmm."

I glanced at him skeptically. It was true that I wanted to help Vittorio, but honestly, I'd been more focused on avoiding being left alone in the tent with Leonardo. Something about his behaviour tonight felt… off. Normally, he would have gone out to assist Vittorio himself without hesitation. Yet here he was, keeping me in place. And the way he was watching me now, with that serious expression, was unsettling.

"Take it off," he said firmly.

"Huh?"

"Your clothes. Now."

I hesitated, caught off guard by his abruptness. "I mean… I was going to wash up anyway…"

But his persistence left me fumbling. Before I knew it, I found myself awkwardly rolling up my shirt as he directed.

Leonardo leaned in, his touch deliberate yet cautious, as he lifted the hem higher to inspect something on my skin. His expression hardened the moment he saw it.

I followed Leonardo's gaze and looked down at my stomach. A faint bruise, coiled like a serpent, wound across my abdomen and waist. The memory of the nameless creature lifting me into the air with its twisted body came rushing back. I remembered the pressure constricting my breathing but hadn't realized it had left such a mark.

Leonardo's hand carefully brushed over the bruise, his rough calluses grazing my skin like sandpaper. The unexpected sensation made me flinch involuntarily.

Misinterpreting my reaction as pain, his expression instantly darkened.

"…"

For some reason, I found myself blurting out an excuse.

"No, it's not that. I didn't even realize it was there. It looks worse than it feels—it doesn't hurt."

Though I suspected that pressing on it might bring up a dull ache, Leonardo didn't test my claim. He didn't press down, didn't try to confirm. Instead, he remained silent, his face clouded with thought. I couldn't figure out how he had noticed the bruise before I had.

'If I'd known, I could've hidden it or run off before he found out.'

"You bruise easily, don't you? You should lie down for now," he said slowly, his tone composed but firm.

Leonardo dipped a cloth into a basin of cool water and wrung it out. A moment later, he laid the chilled compress gently over my abdomen. It was an odd role reversal—I had treated him like this before, but now the care was being returned in full.

The cold cloth sent a chill down my spine, making me shiver and instinctively curl up. Noticing this, Leonardo's hand moved to the space between my shoulder blades, gently rubbing to ease the tension. His hand was still cold from wringing out the wet cloth, but the touch was steady and deliberate.

"Isaac," he called softly.

"Mm?"

He lay down beside me, levelling his gaze with mine.

"Are you planning to run away?"

The question came in a quiet whisper, far from the stern tone I had braced myself for. It wasn't scolding or accusatory, but restrained, as if he had pressed down on some emotion to keep his voice calm and gentle.

The shift in his tone caught me off guard. I turned to look at him, momentarily blaming my recent reckless thoughts for planting such ideas in his head. His gaze was unwavering—direct and honest, as always, with no hint of deceit or pretense.

But this time, there was something else there.

In the eyes that had always been resolute, always moving forward with unshakable determination—whether facing monsters, mysteries, or warriors—I now saw a fragment of vulnerability.

It was unfamiliar, startling even, and I found myself frozen under its weight.

Meeting his gaze felt like discovering a crack in a flawless crystal, a tiny flaw in something I had thought to be unyielding perfection. The sight of his quiet anxiety left me momentarily at a loss for words.

When I tried to sit up abruptly, Leonardo gently pressed my shoulder back down, urging me to stay put. Letting out a small sigh, I reluctantly lay back down and glanced at him sideways.

"Why would I run away, huh?" I asked lightly.

Without thinking, I reached out and brushed my fingers over the corner of his eye. He closed his eyes immediately, as though he had been waiting for the gesture, and leaned into my hand.

It was a completely unguarded response. There was no instinctive flinch, no hesitation—just an easy trust as he settled into the warmth of my touch. Watching someone else so freely find comfort in my presence stirred something deep inside me.

It was the same feeling I got when Vittorio, without a second thought, leaned into a reassuring hand or rested against a friendly shoulder. But this time, it was sharper, more overwhelming. It felt like my chest was expanding so much that my ribs strained to contain the sensation.

I didn't want to break this fragile moment, so even the act of breathing became cautious, as if anything too loud might shatter the delicate stillness between us.

Worry for Leonardo's unease began to creep in.

Is this because I've been trying to keep some distance recently? Or did I make him feel insecure by hiding my injuries?

Whatever the cause, I realized there was no point in holding on to those futile attempts at separation if they made him look this forlorn.

I shifted slightly, turning to face him and moving a little closer. In response, Leonardo carefully adjusted the damp cloth so it wouldn't slip, placing his hand lightly over my waist. His touch lingered, steady and deliberate, as if shielding me from the chill.

He ran his hand down my back slowly, like he was brushing away the cold. His eyes searched mine, and then, with a slight furrow of his brow, he whispered,

"So… you're done avoiding me now?"

Leonardo's unusually soft and vulnerable tone shook my resolve. Realizing that he had subconsciously noticed all along, I couldn't help but nod without thinking.

Leonardo seemed entirely satisfied with that.

The tent flap suddenly fluttered open with a sharp rustle.

"Hot water delivery—ah! Aaaah! Seriously?! You two! Always sneaking moments like this! Where's your restraint?!"

Raul, carrying buckets of bathwater in both hands, froze mid-step before dropping one of them and hurriedly covering Vittorio's eyes. Vittorio, now half-drenched from the spilled water, stared dolefully at Raul, his gaze heavy with quiet disappointment.