Tenth wasn’t sure how much time Liraeth spent searching the ruins. With the unfamiliar but comforting presence gone, everything else seemed to still, the deathly grip of devastation tightening around the castle halls. Even so, resting on the steps with his eyes closed, unburdened by orders and commitments, the knight couldn’t say if he truly slept.

He has slept before, of that he was certain – resentful as His Lordship was to every aspect of his servants’ humanity, he could never train it out of them completely. They were soldiers by daylight, invincible and inscrutable, never showing weakness or admitting to feeling pain, but nightfall tended to expose a different side of them, one they hid behind closed doors, where they would peel off the layers of steel that encased their bodies and give up their duty to restore their strength through slumber.

It felt different then. He would lay down and immediately feel nothing. His bed was in no way soft, and it was rare for him to spend the night in it anyway, but no matter how harsh the surface under his back was, it never bothered him. He didn’t remember feeling especially tired in the evening, nor rested in the morning. His energy would be replenished, and nothing else would matter.

Now, every sharp edge dug into his skin. Every distant noise disturbed him, every gust of wind made him shiver. Once or twice, he even thought of placing his hands over his ears, hoping it would help a little. But his tiredness took precedent, and he didn’t move.

When Liraeth spoke to him, it was careful, almost gentle, but he was still startled. It took him a moment to realize the man was addressing him, and another to parse the question posed to him – a simple one, he was sure.

“I’m…”

Tenth paused, eyebrows furrowing. How was he feeling? The answer should have come to him naturally. Good? He didn’t want to lie. His muscles still burned and his body ached – would likely ache for a long time, a familiar feeling, though, like all others, it’s never been this sharp and distracting before. No, he wasn’t well, but what was he supposed to be instead? Ready? He was always ready. Orders could come any second, one had to be prepared. Time waited for no one.

Was he unwell, then? If he was injured, it was hard to say how, exactly. There were light burns on his body where the armor provided the least cover, but none of them were quite as bad as the red spot on the side of his face, and that was definitely nothing to worry about. He’s had worse. Unwell and not injured, could he be ill? It was still hard to breathe, but the smoke in the air was as much to blame for that as the smoke in his lungs. Everything was too bright and too loud, and the dullness that came with executing someone’s commands almost seemed pleasant by comparison, but that wasn’t illness.

Neither well nor unwell, was he right at all, or was there something terribly, indescribably wrong with him? His head felt clear, but his thoughts moved at a snail’s pace. His body was fine, but if he were to throw himself into a fight, his strength would fail him. The question was supposed to be easy, but the silence hung in the air, heavy and tense. Thankfully, the second question was much easier to answer.

“I can stand.”

Tenth sat up immediately, as if to prove himself. Before standing up, though, he took the time to unfasten his poleyns and greaves. Liraeth said nothing about the armor, and in a somewhat selfish display of weakness, the knight decided to discard it completely. Once he was up, much steadier on his feet than before, though still far from being at his full strength, he removed his cuisses as well, keeping only the belt that was supposed to hold them – he’d use it to carry his sword instead. It would keep both of his hands free.

“Right,” he nodded curtly to the assertion that it would be best for them to leave the castle. The way out wasn’t hard to find, he was sure Liraeth wouldn’t need any help navigating the wreckage, so he waited for him to set the pace. It didn’t matter to Tenth where to spend the night. “Have you found what you were looking for in those ruins?” he asked tentatively as they walked. He found he was… curious about the man, with his magic staff, his odd manners, his kind but unusual way of speaking. His motives, too. Perhaps he would know something about the tragedy that brought down the castle. Perhaps he would even tell Tenth about it.