After a long conversation in which Willabelle and I settled most things, we returned to the campsite. The individuals still lingering around the fire fell into silence, as if they could sense something important had happened. When they saw Willabelle's relatively cheerful expression, they knew the news was good.
"Everyone, please listen to me," said Willabelle.
Willabelle's voice cut through the darkness with crystalline clarity. It allowed no room for debate, yet carried no panic. Those seated around the fire set down their cups or sharpening stones and turned to face her.
"What's going on, Eliza?"
"I made a decision tonight," she said. Her eyes swept over her companions. She met their gazes one by one, without naming names, without issuing commands, just through the quiet weight of her stare. In that silence were the shared pain of the past, the sleepless nights spent watching each other's backs, and the dangers they had faced side by side. None of them might have known her true name, but in that moment, everyone of them felt the truth of the Eliza who stood before them.
"I've come to an agreement with Lord Leonardo. Tomorrow, I'll be heading to his county to serve under him. And you're all invited to join me in the County of Argenholt. You'll be provided shelter and anything else you may need. In return, you'll work for Lord Leonardo. You'll be paid, of course. Anyone who wants to come with me, step forward now."
Silence followed. Thick, heavy, sharp. In the dim firelight, every face was locked in the same expression: hesitation.
No one stepped forward immediately. It wasn't defiance. It was pride. It was the weight of their pasts. These weren't royal legionnaires; they were people who had crawled out of the wreckage of their own lives and carved out their own codes of survival. Their loyalty to Willabelle (Eliza) was unquestionable. But each needed to make this choice on his or her own.
The first to move was Lethra. The tall woman set her cup on the ground and stood up. Her eyes were still calm, but this time they held a quiet resolve.
"I followed you once, and I'll follow you again. As long as Argenholt gives me a stone to sleep on, it's enough."
Then Alya raised her cup and winked. "Not sure if Lord Leonardo has a sense of humor, but I'm betting he's got decent booze. I'm in."
One by one, the others stood. Doubt still lingered on some faces. I could read it in their eyes. But to choose the road ahead, sometimes faith alone was enough. And the trust they had in Willabelle was strong enough to take that first step.
The camp slowly stirred to life. Weapons were checked. Backpacks were rearranged. No one spoke loudly in the night's hush, but now there was a quiet understanding among us. The journey had begun. And this group stood on the threshold of a new fate.
Willabelle approached me in silence, her footsteps light as wind. "Not all of them will come," she said simply. "Some will leave at dawn. A few want to find their own paths. I've never forced anyone. I never will."
I bowed my head slightly. "The ones who choose to join are more than enough for me. As for the others… may the road rise to meet them."
Willabelle turned her gaze to the fire. The flames cast shifting shadows across her face. Then she looked back at me.
"Thank you again, Lord Leonardo. You don't know how grateful I am. First, you saved my life. Now, you've given us a future. I swear to you. I will do everything in my power to serve you well."
Her words hung in the air. Grateful. Sincere. Resolute.
Damn it, Willabelle… she was so alluring in that moment I found myself struggling once again to keep my composure. But I had to remain calm. If I truly wanted this beautiful woman, I needed to take my steps carefully… slowly.
"No need for thanks. I had my own selfish reasons for accepting you and your crew."
As I spoke, I felt a weight press inside my chest. Because it was true. This wasn't just kindness. It wasn't just about saving her life or welcoming a group of wanderers into my domain. Her presence… had been something I desired since the moment I reincarnated into this world.
Willabelle lowered her head; not out of shame, but in understanding. "Whatever your reason may be," she said softly, "I, and those with me, won't forget it."
"I don't want you to forget," I replied. "But I do want you to promise me one thing."
Her eyes returned to mine, this time with cautious curiosity. "What is it?"
"Don't offer me loyalty. Offer me honesty. If the day ever comes that your heart pulls you elsewhere… look me in the eye before you turn away."
That caught her off guard. I could see it. But after a brief pause, she nodded. "Agreed," she said.
The fire had begun to fade. The night grew deeper. Stars shone more clearly above. In the distance, the soft breathing of horses reached our ears. Some had already packed their bags. By morning, we would know who had stayed.
I turned to Willabelle one last time. "Before we set out tomorrow, I'd like to speak with you. Just the two of us."
"Agreed," she said again. This time, her voice was lower, deeper.
Before she walked away, she pointed to the tent I'd be staying in. Then she moved toward her own, pitched just beside mine. As her silhouette shimmered in the firelight, I was left alone with my thoughts.
_____________________
The next morning, I woke up early. Maybe it was the crisp forest air, but I felt ridiculously refreshed. And of course, that usual male curse between my legs seemed to be quite lively too. No matter how hard I tried to calm it, it showed no intention of surrendering.
I didn't want to break my self-imposed rule and jerk off, but if I didn't do something soon, that damn thing might declare independence.
I covered up the stubborn bulge and stood. The sun was only just rising behind the trees, its golden beams cutting through the misty morning air. Birds had already begun to break the night's silence, filling the forest with the soft rhythm of a new beginning.
When I pushed aside the tent flap, the cool air on my face helped clear my head a little. Despite the persistent weight of my lust, there was something beautiful about being part of this morning. The clean air, the scent of pine, the distant clatter of horses. It was a fleeting moment where everything felt possible.
The camp was still drowsy, yet quietly alive. Some were taking down tents. Others packed in silence. A few carried the weight of uncertainty on their faces; others had already decided to move forward. Everyone was lost in his or her own thoughts.
I walked slowly to the fire pit. The embers from the night before still glowed faintly. And there she was, Willabelle.
She sat wrapped in a dark gray cloak, her hair cascading down her shoulders, hands wrapped around a cup. There was no exhaustion in her posture, only stillness. It seemed she hadn't slept at all.
When she noticed me, she lifted her head. There were no redness in her eyes. On the contrary, it felt like she had spent the night reflecting, planning… maybe even wrestling with her own inner battles, just like I had.
"You're up early," I said. My voice didn't echo. It belonged to her and her alone.
"I never went to sleep," she replied, eyes fixed on a point within the fire. "A wise man once told me that if a decision made at night still feels right in the morning… then it's the right decision."
I stepped closer and sat on the log next to from her. There were only a few paces between us, but that space still respected the fragile trust we had begun to build.
"That's a wise saying indeed. So… is it the right decision?"
She didn't answer right away. Her gaze remained locked on the embers, as if she were reading something in them. The past, the future… or a fate caught between regret and hope.
"Yes," she said at last. Her voice wasn't loud, nor was it fragile. It was simply as it should be. "I want to believe it's right. You're the first thing in a long time that has made me feel excited again, made me feel hope again. So yes, I want to believe this is the best decision for all of us."
Slowly, I reached out. It wasn't abrupt or forceful. Our trust was still a thin thread. Too much pressure and it would snap. But I knew she needed this. My fingers gently touched one of her hands, still wrapped around the cup.
She turned her head to look at our hands. She said nothing at first. Then, she let go of the cup… and laced her fingers between mine.
"I promise," I whispered, "I'll make sure this turns out to be the best decision you could make."