A dead silence filled the hall. All the visitors, including Ben himself, did not want to make a sound. Without saying a word to each other, they tried to listen to the sounds from upstairs. After five minutes of waiting, nothing happened, and everyone began to discuss what had happened.
"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 he's woken up?..."
All the visitors instinctively looked at the ceiling, listening to the sounds.
Ben, watching this commotion, turned his gaze to Hol.
"What, Ben? I'm shocked too! Did you see what that little guy did? It gives me goosebumps!" Hol took a long sip of liquor and flinched slightly, shaking off his slight tremor.
Ben did not answer Hol, but merely turned his grim gaze to the captain of the guard.
"Ben, we'll sort everything out. I've sent my men 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 there was a hint of shock in his eyes. "But just in case, send the visitors home, it's safer."
Ben nodded silently and, without haste, walked out from behind the bar 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, you all saw what happened, so I won't talk for long. The inn is closed 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 about forty years old, dressed in a dark sundress, walked down a dark corridor towards the far door. In her hands, she held a small basin with some bandages.
Approaching the wooden door, she was overcome with fear. She had seen what had happened on the first floor and perfectly understood what that child was capable of. But, overcoming her fear, she slowly opened the door.
Opening the door wider, she expected to see the boy sleeping peacefully on the bed, but upon closer inspection, she saw a faint glow from a long object standing vertically on the floor in the corner between the bed and the wall. Squinting, she realized it was the sword the boy was hugging with his arms and legs; he was sitting in the corner, holding the sword in his embrace.
"What must you have gone through..." the woman thought and, casting aside her thoughts, quietly approached the boy and crouched down.
She quickly examined the boy, noticing many cuts on his hands. It was obvious that the boy had cut himself while sleeping in that position, and the number of healed and new wounds suggested that he had spent such nights regularly. The woman noticed that the glowing sword emitted warmth.
"It's quite logical to use it as a heater," the woman muttered quietly to herself.
The woman realized that she couldn't 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 watch the woman.
"I came to treat your wounds," she said, hiding her shiver from the fear of death, but seeing no positive or negative reaction from the boy, she continued. "Your sword is preventing me from applying bandages, so please, put away 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. He saw nothing strange or anything he could fear in her gaze, so he put away the small knife and released his grip on the sword's hilt, allowing the woman to do her job.
Slightly lifting the corners of her lips, she carefully took the warm sword and set it aside, next to the boy. She was no longer as afraid of him, so there was no point in putting the sword further away.
Taking the roll of bandages, 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's doing this?" a thought flashed through the boy's mind as he watched the woman's actions. But the thoughts quickly vanished when he felt a slight burning sensation in his right hand.
Looking at his hand, he only now saw the numerous cuts on it, as well as the dirt that the woman was diligently wiping away.
"Maybe I mean something to her?" the boy thought, trying to remember her. But after sitting for a little longer, he realized it was pointless: he didn't remember anything from the time he came to his senses.
Tired of his short reflections, he felt sleepy. He didn't want to fall asleep, but the long journey and the feeling of safety made his body release all its fatigue right now.
And literally a couple of minutes later, the boy fell asleep, his head resting on the bed.
"He's probably tired," the woman thought with longing and began to treat the boy's left hand. This did not take her much time, as the left hand was in better condition.
After treating his hands, she tried to quietly lift the boy onto the bed and tuck him under the covers. Not without difficulty, she succeeded, and, having finished 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 her husband Ben was standing behind the bar, and the captain of the guard was in front of the counter.
"Honey, are you crazy?! What are you doing up there?" Ben exploded and ran to his wife. "Did he do anything to you?!"
The wife hugged her husband's forearms.
"No, dear, everything is fine," the woman said affectionately. "Unlike you, this boy behaves smarter than some." A mischievous smile lit up her face. "What about Karl, sir?" she asked the captain of the guard.
"I can't say for sure, but he'll live anyway. The boy knew where to strike, so he didn't hit any vital organs," the captain said in a calm voice, and then smiled slightly. "But I must admit, I liked his movements... So fast and without hesitation to wound another person. It's scary to imagine what he's been through."
"I saw many cuts from the sword on his hands," the woman said, drawing Ben's and the captain's attention.
"Did he try to commit suicide?" Ben asked quickly, but his wife's immediate answer followed.
"No, it's his sword. It seems to have the ability to emit heat. That's how he slept at night, hugging the sword," the woman said with a hint of sadness. "How many nights did he spend like this?..."
The captain of the guard frowned, and then asked in a serious tone:
"Did this sword glow?"
The woman nodded without hesitation.
The man in armor thought for a moment, then spoke in a detached voice:
"There's a possibility 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 had befallen 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 did not answer, but merely nodded.
Ben turned pale.
"Good heavens... 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 then," the captain put his hand on Ben's shoulder, and then added in a quiet voice:
"In the meantime, go rest, you must be exhausted from today, and I'll sit here and keep watch."
Watching them go, the captain settled comfortably in a nearby chair and began to wait for people to arrive.
With the sunrise, the sound of knocking on the inn's front door was heard.