An immense weight burdened his eyelids—the promise of sight both temptation and distraction.

With great effort, they opened.

Bleary, he looked around. Yellow light streamed into his retinas, making him squint. Refocusing, vague voices reminded him he had ears. Retuning, it took a moment to process. There was a keyword mixed in there somewhere. A name.

After another minute, he could see fully.

He was in a room. As unfamiliar as it was occupied. Some sort of rest area. A work area. A serving station. It resembled a hastily built triage center without partitions: the centerpiece, being him and a bed.

Looking around at the many faces, he recognized them one by one. Kerv and Henry were on his left. Ester and Lannie stood off to his right. Jeral backdropping his sister. Wilson, Cynthia, and Denise sat at a table. Even Nem and Vienna sat on a couch nearby.

"About time you woke up."

Ester. Brash as usual.

Bellavarn blinked. Wincing.

"Why do you all look as bad as I feel?"

Several people sported minor injuries and sore bruises. Ester lifted a slung arm, the worst off.

"You are more muscular than you look."

Looking down at himself, he saw his wrapped stomach and bared chest. Bellavarn tried to cover himself but realized his arms and legs were bound.

Before the blush registered, an eyebrow arched. His lips passing words automatically.

"I didn't realize I was your type, Ester."

"Pfft."

Ester waved her good arm in exasperation, exiting the boisterous room. Bellavarn's ears rang slightly from the accompanying laughter.

"Did you all have your way with me? I feel like I was run over by a carriage."

Kerv slapped Bellavarn's chest. Eliciting a sharp wince as Bellavarn couldn't retaliate.

"Ow! What! What is so funny? Stop laughing and untie me. Why am I tied up?"

Confusion defined him.

"Oof."

A tackle caused the wind to be knocked out of him.

"Lannie... I can't... *huff* ...breathe."

She didn't let go. She whispered in his ear.

"Ester was crying."

"What?"

Lannie extricated herself and fled before there was further questioning. Others taking her place. A teary-eyed Wilson was an unwelcome sight first thing in the morning. He blew his nose before hugging Bellavarn as well.

"Get off of me! What is going on? Someone explain it to me. Kerv! Untie me. Untie me!"

Then Wilson started to rub snot on Bellavarn's shoulder.

"Ew! Stop it! Stop! Please. Somebody. Get him off! Off! Shoo. That is disgusting. I am not a tissue; wipe your nose elsewhere."

Kerv's sardonic grin met Bellavarn's pleading eyes placidly. Henry folded his arms and watched in amusement. The cheer in the room was exuberant. Lifted spirits and shared laughs. A good day. For everyone barring Bellavarn.

"What the hell happened..."

=

"Soup?"

"Aaah. You're my savior Vienna."

Bellavarn moaned in response to the intoxicating fumes. Was there a more lovely scent than this?

Digging in, he filled his stomach with heaven's nectar until it got uncomfortable to breathe. Feeling his full stomach impacting his lungs, Bellavarn handed the large pot back to a beaming Vienna. Her smile became infectious.

"It was delicious. Much appreciated, Vienna."

"Mhm."

Vienna tiptoed away, the empty pot causing a spring to enter her steps.

Most fled soon after Bellavarn awoke, expressing their relief and returning to other duties. Two additions he didn't notice until after he finished eating were his parents.

"Um... How long was I... I am not sure what to ask first."

A cold smack attacked his cheek. He barely had time to register the pain before he was wrapped in a warm embrace. It was a nostalgic hug that only a mother could elicit.

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"Mom. You're smothering me."

Trisha said nothing, squeezing harder. Bellavarn honestly thought something might break, but that was when she let go, holding him at arm's length.

"I know I raised you to be good and kind, but you didn't have to take a dagger to the gut to prove it to me. Never scare me like that again! "

The memory flashed. A mob. A glint in the crowd. Pain. Nausea. And then here.

There was also a vague recollection of shattered glass and scorching fire.

He shivered.

"I won't. I promise. I am not looking to repeat such an endeavor."

"Good. Now let me look at you. You look malnourished but considering you just consumed an entire pot of soup; I believe it is within reason to say you will make a full recovery."

"I feel odd. A bit lighter."

Braster answered the open question.

"A side effect of your so-called endeavor. You unconsciously tapped into magic and expanded severely stretched your mana pool. It remains unstable for the moment, but after a few days rest, you will have more utility."

Bellavarn's face screwed up.

"I'd rather have eaten untreated stinkweed."

Trisha smiled brightly, pleased by her son's answer. If Bellavarn had said he was glad to be attacked, she would have throttled him.

"I imagine you would. The doctor's recommendation is that you keep to the bed for at least another 24 hours. Your magic sped up your recovery, but don't give that wound a chance to reopen. Anything you need can be brought here in the meantime."

Kerv and Henry both nodded. Two other servants in the room bowed. Bellavarn was thankful to have them all, but his head couldn't get wrapped around the time he'd been under.

"Three days."

Did he leave a kiln running?

After reconfirming that they were set on a timer, more pressing questions bubbled up.

"What happened with the attacker? The people? Is the charity still running? April! Is she safe?"

When Braster didn't speak, scratching his cheek instead, the Duchess spoke for him.

"April is alive and healthy. Your father had harsh words with her, but we've gathered she didn't have anything to do with the attack. She is in the study under temporary guard."

"Under guard?"

Braster.

"There were some developments. She is unharmed, don't worry. For now, know that the attacker was captured by Henry and that your mother and I are taking care of everything else. The staff continued your charity without further interruption and the people seem very pleased."

"Considering they all kept their heads, they better be overjoyed. Or I will rectify that mistake."

"Mother."

"Now I am mother again? Why can't you call me mom like earlier? Or Mommy like you used to."

"Ew. Mom. No."

Trisha sighed dramatically, having returned to her old self.

"They grow up too quickly, Braster. He doesn't even allow me to dote on him anymore."

Bellavarn swatted her hand away as she was trying to smudge his cheek.

"There'll be a little one for you to dote on again. I bet they'll even call you mommy."

The situation became awkward as his parents started to act lovey-dovey. Whispered words. Hearing his mother giggle spelled doom for all.

Not knowing how to feel or act in such a situation, Bellavarn tried to ignore what was happening by focusing on other occupants. It didn't help that the staff remaining in the room were trying to look every which way except at the couple.

Henry covered his eyes with a hand while Kerv stood ram-rod straight, facing the wall.

"Pfft."

Bellavarn laughed. It was too funny. His parents stopped.

Kerv's voice called over without turning.

"What? What's going on? What did I miss?"

Bellavarn started coughing, holding his stomach as he laughed harder. Out of breath.

Wiping at his eyes, he relished the moment.

=

"Thank you, Kerv."

"What for?"

Bellavarn buttoned his shirt.

"For everything."

It was just the two of them. The silence between them felt unnatural as Kerv avoided Bellavarn's gaze.

"I failed you."

"You didn't."

"No, I did. I put you in a position where you could no longer rely on me to protect you. If I'd been more diligent, if I trained instead of goofing off, I could have handled the situation with ease."

Bellavarn was about to say that this kind of talk wasn't like him but stopped himself short. This hardheaded self-criticism was also a side of Kerv. Continuing to say it wasn't Kerv's fault would be like denying a part of him.

"Do you still have that baton of yours?"

Kerv's expression flickered. Caught off-guard.

"Yeah. It's right here."

The baton appeared in his grip. Slick and sheen. An ivory rod imitating the appearance of metal. It would fool most now that it was painted. Kerv held it awkwardly.

"Grip it."

Complying, Kerv gripped the small side handle. The baton was a more unique variety that Bellavarn recognized as a tonfa. He'd never heard of a baton being made from clay, but there was a first time for everything.

"Practice a few swings and strikes for me."

The baton lowered with a sigh.

"I am not really feeling it right now, Bell. Is this important somehow?"

"Just do it. Please? I want to see how you use it."

A hung head. Bellavarn waited.

Kerv stood with a huff and moved to an open space. Taking a stance, he wielded the baton in his left hand. He moved in rhythm. Slashing more than bashing. It turned and twirled in his grip. The whole time Kerv pivoted only one foot, keeping a defensive stance.

Then he stopped.

"There. Are you happy?"

"I am satisfied. Are you?"

Kerv crossed his arms. His eyebrows knitting and he was about to quip when Bellavarn cut straight to his heart.

"Why did you fail?"

A twitch.

"Because I am not strong enough."

"Bzzzz. Wrong. Try again."

Kerv became flustered. Angry at the reversed positions. Why did Bell always have to act like he knew best? Shouldn't Bellavarn need cheering up? Kerv is the adult in the room and could handle his own emotions. He didn't need to stand this.

A deep inhale through his nose, Kerv tried to relax but held his breath instead of releasing it.

"There were too many. It was chaos, and I got caught up in the mess."

"Closer. Elaborate."

Rolled shoulders.

"I couldn't draw my sword. Killing or maiming wasn't an option and subduing each of them took too long. If I trained more in hand to hand combat, I could have freed up my space."

Bellavarn smoothed out a fold in his blanket, smiling wryly. Why are answers so clear when viewing a problem that is not your own?

"Why didn't you use the baton?"

Kerv blinked twice. Finally breathing out as he stared down at the new weapon.

Bellavarn laughed bitterly.

"The others are likely blaming themselves as well. Henry for not realizing the true nature of the crowd or preventing it. Jeral for getting distracted and hitting me. Kyle likely felt trapped in evacuating everyone and feels guilty for not joining his friends. And the non-combatants? What could they do except watch everything fall apart?"

The stone ceiling was one Bellavarn vaguely recognized. It used to be blocked by a wooden overhang. It was gone now, along with the beams that supported it. His bed. His entire room was transformed.

It took longer than he would have liked to figure it out.

A sad smile.

"I blame myself for all of the above. I lacked the foresight to prevent the situation and combat skills to solve it swiftly. I could do nothing but throw my body in the way of an attack. I didn't tackle the attacker or push April out of the way. I took the blow straight on. Hah! Why do you think that is? To prove I could do it? To frighten the attacker?"

Bellavarn shook his head.

"Forget it. Philosophy isn't productive. We were talking about you."

"Bell."

He held up a hand.

"It's fine. About your baton. You are clearly skilled with it already. Use it. No one will expect such an unorthodox weapon. Waiting for me to enchant it or doubting your ability will waste time and potential."

"I suppose you are right."

"I know I am."

"You take after the Duchess."

Bellavarn's face screwed up.

"I'll accept that statement for the positives in it. But, Kerv?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you bring her to me?"