Dead silence blanketed the hall. All visitors, including Ben himself, did not wish to make a sound. Without saying a word to each other, they tried to listen to the sounds upstairs. After five minutes of waiting, nothing happened, and everyone began discussing what had occurred.
"He knocked out Karl with one blow!" one of the visitors said loudly.
"Quiet! Better not wake that little one. Karl just touched him, and look at the consequences; what will happen if we wake him?..."
All the visitors instinctively looked at the ceiling, listening to the sounds.
Ben, who had watched this commotion, shifted his gaze to Hol.
"What, Ben? I was shocked myself! Did you see what that kid did? He gives me goosebumps!" Hol took a long sip of the hot stuff and twitched slightly, shaking off his light shiver.
Ben did not answer Hol but only shifted his gloomy gaze to the guard captain.
"Ben, we'll sort it all out. I sent my guys for the Heirs, so I think they'll arrive by morning. I'll answer your question right away: there's no point in figuring out who he is; we should wait for the Heirs." The captain remained serious and showed no fear, but his gaze held a hint of light shock. "But just in case, send the visitors home; it's safer that way."
Ben silently nodded and, unhurriedly, stepped out from behind the bar counter and headed to the center of the hall, attracting everyone's attention with his figure. Then, in a not too loud but heavy voice, he began to speak:
"Gentlemen, everyone saw what happened, so I won't speak long. The inn is closing until the Heirs arrive, and for now, I ask you to leave the establishment. I apologize for what happened. Thank you for your understanding."
---
A woman of about forty, dressed in a dark sundress, walked down the dark corridor toward the far door. In her hands, she held a small basin with some bandages.
Approaching the wooden door, fear gripped her. She had seen what happened on the first floor and perfectly understood what that child was capable of. But, overcoming the fear, she slowly cracked the door open.
Opening the door wider, she expected to see the boy peacefully sleeping on the bed, but, peering closer, she saw a faint glow of an elongated object in a vertical position on the floor in the corner between the bed and the wall. Squinting, she realized it was the sword that the boy was hugging with his arms and legs; he sat in the corner, holding the sword in his embrace.
"What have you had to go through..." the woman thought and, brushing aside the thoughts, quietly approached the boy and squatted down.
With a quick glance, she examined the boy, noticing numerous cuts on his arms. It was obvious that the boy had cut himself while sleeping in such a position, and by the number of healed and new wounds, one could assume that he spent such nights regularly. The woman noted that warmth emanated from the glowing sword.
"Quite logical to use it as a heater," the woman quietly muttered to herself.
The woman realized that she could not treat the wounds without removing the sword, so she reached for it. Before she could touch it, the blade of a knife hidden in her hand pressed against her neck.
The boy opened his eyes and began to observe the woman.
"I came to treat your wounds," hiding her chill from the fear of death, but seeing neither positive nor negative reaction from the boy, she continued. "Your sword is in my way of applying bandages, so please, remove the knife and don't interfere with my work."
The boy slightly moved the knife away but then raised his empty eyes and looked into the woman's face. In the gaze, he saw nothing strange or what he might fear, so he put away the small knife and relaxed his grip on the sword's blade, allowing the woman to do her thing.
Slightly lifting the corners of her lips upward, she carefully took the warm sword and set it aside, next to the boy's side. She was no longer so afraid of him, so there was no point in setting the sword farther away.
Taking the bandage pack in her hands, the woman quickly unrolled it, took out simple gauze and the bandage itself. Wetting the gauze, she took the boy's right hand and began to slowly but firmly wipe his wounds. She wanted to clean them of dirt and then apply bandages.
***
"I wonder why she needs this?" a thought flashed in the boy's head as he watched the woman's actions. But the thoughts quickly dissipated when he felt a slight burning in his right hand.
Glancing at his hand, he only now saw the numerous cuts on it, as well as the dirt that the woman was diligently rubbing off.
"Maybe I'm someone to her?" the boy thought, trying to remember her. But, sitting a little longer, he realized it was pointless: he remembered nothing from the time he came to.
Tired of short musings, he felt drawn to sleep. He did not want to fall asleep, but the long journey and the feeling of safety forced his body to release all the fatigue right now.
And literally after a couple of minutes, the boy fell asleep, tilting his head onto the bed.
***
"He's tired, probably," the woman thought with longing and proceeded to treat the boy's left hand. This did not take her much time, as the left hand was in better condition.
Finishing treating the hands, she tried quietly to lift the boy onto the bed and tuck him under the blanket. Not without difficulty, she succeeded, and, completing her work, she picked up the sword from the floor and placed it at the foot of the bed.
Leaving the room, after leaving the basin with water and closing the door behind her, she headed downstairs, where behind the bar counter stood her husband Ben, and in front of the counter—the guard captain.
"Darling, have you gone mad?! What did you forget there?" Ben exploded and ran to his wife. "Did he do anything to you?!"
The wife embraced her husband's forearms.
"No, dear, everything is fine," the woman said tenderly. "Unlike you, this boy behaves smarter than some." A mischievous smile lit up her face. "What about Karl, sir?" she addressed the guard captain.
"I can't say for sure, but he'll live in any case. The boy knew where to strike, so he didn't hit any vital organs," the captain said in a calm voice, then smiled slightly. "But to be honest, I liked his movements... So fast and without hesitation to wound another person. Scary to imagine what he's been through."
"I saw numerous sword cuts on his arms," the woman said, drawing Ben's and the captain's attention to herself.
"Did he try to commit suicide?" Ben asked quickly, but his wife gave an instant response.
"No, it's about his sword. It seems to have the ability to emit heat. That's how, hugging the sword, he slept at nights." The woman said with a note of longing. "How many nights did he spend like that?..."
The guard captain frowned, then asked in a serious tone:
"Did this sword glow?"
The woman nodded without hesitation.
The man in armor pondered for a moment, then spoke in a detached voice:
"There's a chance that this sword belongs to Fiona from the expedition group to the mountain..."
Ben's eye twitched slightly. He had heard about the horror that befell that group.
"Wait, but the last survivor was found almost three months ago, right? Then what is this sword doing with him? Or wait..."
The captain said nothing, only nodded.
Ben paled.
"God merciful... But how did he survive?"
"Don't jump to conclusions; it's not certain yet. The Heirs should arrive in the morning; we'll find out everything there," the captain placed a hand on Ben's shoulder, then added in a quiet voice:
"And for now, go rest; you've surely worn yourselves out today, and I'll sit here, keep watch."
Watching them go, the captain settled more comfortably on the nearest chair and began waiting for the people's arrival.
With the sunrise, a knock sounded at the inn's entrance door.