Leona managed a light-hearted chuckle and shook her head. "You and Thoma will never cease to amaze and surprise me, will you?" she asked playfully. "No, I don't suppose we ever will," he replied similarly.
She has no idea how many more surprises are coming her way, he thought, considering everything that has happened in the last year.
He paused for a few heartbeats, the reality of his younger sibling being trapped in the Underworld settling back in rapidly. His expression sank just enough to reveal the surface of his true emotions. "I'm… I'm sorry about Thoma, you know," Leona said comfortingly after reading the slight shift in his demeanor.
"It's alright. Although, I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little worried about him," he replied, trying to brush it off with a firm nod as he stared off into the distance. "Like I told the guardsman, my mother has trained him very well. He's even reached the third stage of mana manipulation after going through my mother's absurd training regimen," he continued, giving her a pained, thin-lipped smile.
"Is she really that strong?" Leona asked, her genuine investment into his past blatantly evident in her tone of voice. Bernar chuckled softly, and took in a deep breath as if all the memories of the past year had all rushed back into his mind.
"If you think I'm strong, my mother can make me look like a babbling toddler swinging a branch in comparison," he replied, scratching the side of his cheek.
"I've never really seen you fight," she began, putting her index finger on her chin. "I mean, there were those two you were fighting in the Great Hall, but I never got to see the end of it because Meliss and I were running away. How did that end?" she asked, turning to look at him. "Not well for them, but I'll spare you the gruesome details of that," he said with a wave of his hand.
"You seem to forget that I killed my own husband with a thin paintbrush and put him on display for the Royal Court to see…" she retorted simply.
Bernar turned to look at her with shock evidently written on his face, but paused shortly after and thought about her words.
"You know what? That's fair," he concluded with an upturned bottom lip after a few breaths. They chuckled shallowly at their own gruesome experiences and continued down the path that would lead them to Harut as the others followed closely behind.
The group, now augmented by Gwili's former compatriots, made their way into the village where Bashir had first made his escape. The moon had just risen up over the horizon, limiting the amount of light it shed into the valley at the base of the Rhydian Pass. Not much had changed to the town since then, except for the addition of some lodging buildings and a larger stable area right beside the original one near Ahkmed's house.
The oldest stablehand, hearing the sound of approaching horses, stopped pitching hay to look at the newcomers. From within the stable, he could just make out a swirling ball of fire that gently cast a dim light onto the horse beneath it.
What in the realms is happening? He thought, leaning his pitchfork up against the open door beside him.
"Good evening to you, travelers!" the boy chirped after dusting his legs off as he exited the stables. He adjusted his vision against the torchlight beside him for a few seconds. "Good evening, young man," Bernar called out in return, turning his head towards him.
By Yarathea, his eyes are glowing like the stories my mother used to tell me, the boy thought, finally understanding what he was looking at against the dark that the torch couldn't dispel.
"I-I meant n-no disrespect, s-sir!" the boy stammered, suddenly understanding what it could mean if he had as they came further into the light. He realized that there were more than just a few people present and that the amount of horses betrayed that by quite a large number.
Some of the hilts of their weapons and pieces of their armor began to reflect the flickers of torchlight that radiated from the stable, but the details of their faces were still mildly obscured. "Oh, there are a lot more of you than I thought," the boy said, bowing again just in case there was someone of import present.
"There are about forty of us in total, but less than a quarter of them are on horseback. Do you have enough lodging for us?" Bernar asked as he dismounted his horse, leading it by the reins. "W-we should have plenty of room available for the horses, but I'll have to speak with my master about lodging for everyone else," the boy stammered, noticing the glint of Bernar's hilt. A mild sense of panic and uncertainty was written all over the boy's features.
"Ah, I see," Bernar began, noticing the rapid shift in the boy's demeanor and the direction he was looking. "Don't worry, I'm not going to use it unless it's absolutely necessary," he tried to say reassuringly.
Unfortunately, glowing eyes in the dark and reassuring words are two things that don't mix well.
The boy felt a chill run down his spine momentarily, but nodded his head to show his understanding as best he could. "Where is your master, anyway?" Leona said, taking control of the situation.
She has the voice and looks of a goddess, the boy thought, immediately more comforted at the sight of her than of Bernar.
"He's probably getting ready to turn in for the night, but since you have all just arrived, I will fetch him for you," the boy replied, feeling the chill in his spine quickly becoming a distant memory. "If you would be so kind," Lona said, giving him a warm smile.
Even in the cold, that smile is as warm as the sun itself, the boy thought, losing himself in her smile momentarily.
Bernar cleared his throat, snapping the boy out of his stupor and prodding him to go and fetch his master. "He seems nice," Leona said, eliciting a chortle from Bernar. "Probably too nice. He nearly pissed his pants when I got close, after all," Bernar said jokingly. "You're not that scary," she said in response. "Not to you, but to a boy who's probably never seen eyes that glow before…?" he gestured in the boy's direction, letting his question hang. "Fair enough," Leona said with a shrug, signaling for everyone still on horseback to dismount.
Within a few moments, a large man appeared in the freshly opened doorway, his tunic barely hanging off the ground. As he stepped out, a second figure appeared behind him. His build was far more slim than the first, but a well-trained physique was difficult to hide even in limited light.
"Welcome to Maladh, travelers. I am called Ahkmed, and I am the mayor of this town. I apologize for the wait, as we seldom receive visitors so late in the evening," he said in a welcoming tone. "It is quite alright, Ahkmed," Leona began. "I am Leona of Maredia, Queen of Coltend; it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my good sir," she said warmly.
"Q-Queen Leona?" Ahkmed stammered as his face paled. "I apologize even more deeply, then, Your Majesty," he blurted out as he quickly bent over in a bow. "It is good to see you again, Your Majesty," the second figure said. He, too, was bent over in a bow, but the loose-fitting drab of the Harutuans, alongside long, dark hair that covered the rest of his face, made it difficult to identify him.
I recognize that voice, Thorsen thought, reacting to the militaristic tone used.
"Gorm, is that you?" Thorsen asked, walking up to the group and stopping just to the left of Leona. "Th-Thorsen?" Gorm asked, looking up from beneath his brow. "By the gods, it is you!" he exclaimed, recovering from his bent position and briskly walking over to Thorsen. They clasped forearms and embraced momentarily. "It's good to see you again, old friend," Gorm said as if greeting a long-lost family member, taking a step backward. "Likewise, old friend," Thorsen returned in a similar tone.
As he did so, the trio finally got a decent look at him. His face, now covered in healed scars, held a brighter smile than the torch he stood beside. It was evident, even to those who had never experienced such wounds, that his recovery process was likely not an easy one, prompting Marte and Neko to wince at the sight of him.