knowing he had never been through the town of Forga on his travels.
He stopped before a half-standing ruin, unique among the buildings of the town in that it had been burned down. The house stood isolated some distance from the main street, so whatever fire had struck it must have been contained to it. But the fire couldn’t have been related to the disappearance of the villagers - that had happened much later than when the house must have burned.
“Ack…”
Luca’s head suddenly pained him, like he was thinking too hard on something. Part of him wanted to explore that burned ruin, born of some compulsion he couldn’t put his finger on. But he knew he would find nothing there but memories - the memories of similar fires he had seen the day before. And he just wanted to forget about those.
He turned away from the burned house and went to return to the inn.
<> <> <>
The following morning came, and Emila awoke to find Luca absent from the inn. For a moment she panicked, fearing he had attempted to flee once again, but she shook her head and decided that he could not be so foolish.
After fixing her own breakfast, she left the inn to find him. A quick search determined that he was out by the river, shirtless save for his bandages, doing push-ups. His sword was unsheathed and stuck in a tree stump nearby.
“Yeah?” Luca groaned between breaths. Sweat dripped down from his brow.
“I was just wondering where you were.”
He didn't answer.
Emila averted her gaze, as she knew she would blush if she watched. “What are you doing out here, if I may ask?”
“What does it look like?” he told her curtly. “I'm training.”
Emila looked down at the ground, feeling distracted.
“I won't heal any faster by sitting around doing nothing,” he continued. “If I keep physically fit, my body will recover fast, and I can get out of this place.”
Emila didn't look up. “You don't want to be here?”
Luca scoffed. “Who would?”
Emila frowned, taking her own turn to be silent.
With a groan, Luca climbed back to his feet. He went over to the edge of the river, cupped his hands, and splashed some water on his head.
“Where were you going?” he asked suddenly.
“I'm sorry?” Emila said.
“You said last night you were travelling, and that you were stopping to rest in this place. I'm asking where you were headed.”
“Oh. I, uh... Err..”
She shifted awkwardly, and silently berated herself for not coming up with something before.
Luca stared at her, his eyes seeming to know far more than he should. “I understand if you have secrets to keep.”
Emila bit her lip and said nothing.
He went over to the log, and drew the sword out from it. He stared at the steel blade for a long moment, then said in a quiet voice, “I'm used to those around me keeping secrets.”
<> <> <>
Emila spent the rest of the day trying to get the plumbing to work. She eventually found the town's water supply was still full, so she returned to the inn and followed the path of the pipes back to the well. She found that one particular pipe was broken, so she repaired it and returned to the inn. She started the faucet and clear water flowed.
Emila sighed in relief.
An hour later, she was bathed and refreshed. She returned to the lobby, which had grown dark after the sun had set.
Luca had not yet returned to the inn.
Emila sighed again, and she stepped out the front door. She quickly found the white-haired man at the very spot he had been before. He was on his hands, gasping and panting. Sweat dripped off his chest and brow, and his arms trembled.
She could feel faintly, through their connection, that he was on the verge of collapsing. As she drew near him, his arms buckled under his own weight, and he fell onto the dirt. He sighed, and noticed her, surprise in his eyes. And shame.
“You need rest, Luca,” she said.
He turned away from her gentle words, ignoring her very existence. He forced himself up to his
He stopped before a half-standing ruin, unique among the buildings of the town in that it had been burned down. The house stood isolated some distance from the main street, so whatever fire had struck it must have been contained to it. But the fire couldn’t have been related to the disappearance of the villagers - that had happened much later than when the house must have burned.
“Ack…”
Luca’s head suddenly pained him, like he was thinking too hard on something. Part of him wanted to explore that burned ruin, born of some compulsion he couldn’t put his finger on. But he knew he would find nothing there but memories - the memories of similar fires he had seen the day before. And he just wanted to forget about those.
He turned away from the burned house and went to return to the inn.
<> <> <>
The following morning came, and Emila awoke to find Luca absent from the inn. For a moment she panicked, fearing he had attempted to flee once again, but she shook her head and decided that he could not be so foolish.
After fixing her own breakfast, she left the inn to find him. A quick search determined that he was out by the river, shirtless save for his bandages, doing push-ups. His sword was unsheathed and stuck in a tree stump nearby.
“Yeah?” Luca groaned between breaths. Sweat dripped down from his brow.
“I was just wondering where you were.”
He didn't answer.
Emila averted her gaze, as she knew she would blush if she watched. “What are you doing out here, if I may ask?”
“What does it look like?” he told her curtly. “I'm training.”
Emila looked down at the ground, feeling distracted.
“I won't heal any faster by sitting around doing nothing,” he continued. “If I keep physically fit, my body will recover fast, and I can get out of this place.”
Emila didn't look up. “You don't want to be here?”
Luca scoffed. “Who would?”
Emila frowned, taking her own turn to be silent.
With a groan, Luca climbed back to his feet. He went over to the edge of the river, cupped his hands, and splashed some water on his head.
“Where were you going?” he asked suddenly.
“I'm sorry?” Emila said.
“You said last night you were travelling, and that you were stopping to rest in this place. I'm asking where you were headed.”
“Oh. I, uh... Err..”
She shifted awkwardly, and silently berated herself for not coming up with something before.
Luca stared at her, his eyes seeming to know far more than he should. “I understand if you have secrets to keep.”
Emila bit her lip and said nothing.
He went over to the log, and drew the sword out from it. He stared at the steel blade for a long moment, then said in a quiet voice, “I'm used to those around me keeping secrets.”
<> <> <>
Emila spent the rest of the day trying to get the plumbing to work. She eventually found the town's water supply was still full, so she returned to the inn and followed the path of the pipes back to the well. She found that one particular pipe was broken, so she repaired it and returned to the inn. She started the faucet and clear water flowed.
Emila sighed in relief.
An hour later, she was bathed and refreshed. She returned to the lobby, which had grown dark after the sun had set.
Luca had not yet returned to the inn.
Emila sighed again, and she stepped out the front door. She quickly found the white-haired man at the very spot he had been before. He was on his hands, gasping and panting. Sweat dripped off his chest and brow, and his arms trembled.
She could feel faintly, through their connection, that he was on the verge of collapsing. As she drew near him, his arms buckled under his own weight, and he fell onto the dirt. He sighed, and noticed her, surprise in his eyes. And shame.
“You need rest, Luca,” she said.
He turned away from her gentle words, ignoring her very existence. He forced himself up to his
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