"I didn't feel anything unusual. I was about to act when Marlleo started laughing, but then he went calm all at once, and when I saw you weren't reacting, I decided to hold back. After that, a few seconds passed where you were both looking at each other, and then you suddenly appeared over here."
Licerio raised an eyebrow, working through López's words. By his account, only seconds had passed—less than a minute—between Telón's unhinged laughter and his reappearance. For Licerio, dozens of minutes had passed in conversation with Telón.
His thoughts were interrupted when Marlleo twisted briefly and his clear gaze focused on Licerio before closing again, his head dropping under its weight as he fell unconscious.
The soldiers on either side caught his head and checked his condition. Confirming he was unconscious, they moved him back to his bed and considered whether to remove the shackles and chains.
"You can untie him. Nothing strange will happen with him now," Licerio confirmed to both soldiers.
Not that it would stop anything if Telón came back—the restraints would only irritate Marlleo, he thought with a helpless smile.
Licerio stood and approached Marlleo, his face still marked by lines of dried blood, traces of his inner struggle with Telón.
"Bring a couple of servants to clean Marlleo up and look after him over the coming days. Two soldiers will remain inside the room and two more outside."
One of the soldiers left to relay the request to the steward. A few minutes later he returned with two servants—one carrying a bucket of water, the other a pair of cloths prepared for Marlleo's care.
The steward came quietly to stand behind Licerio, waiting for a signal that he could speak, understanding that Licerio was currently occupied with something important.
Licerio finished organizing the room and turned his attention to the steward. He had already noticed the man standing behind him, and when he did not speak immediately, he understood it was not an urgent matter and had kept his focus on Marlleo.
"My lord, the lady was worried about your well-being. More than thirty minutes passed without a sound from the room, and the fear was wearing on her—she was afraid something terrible had happened."
"Impossible," López said flatly. "It hasn't been five minutes since the servants all left and we put Marlleo in chains."
"López!" Licerio snapped. "Control yourself. Steward, you may go and set my mother at ease—I am perfectly fine, and I will come to see her shortly."
The steward nodded, said his goodbyes, and left. López tried to speak, to defend his account—but Licerio cut him off before he could start.
"Relax. I understand something of what happened. Let's go—I need to get ready to see my mother."
López could only nod helplessly, somewhat unsettled, and follow behind Licerio.
He hid the time from my soldiers—or perhaps he hid their perception of time. What exactly did he do? Licerio wondered, with no way to confirm the idea, and even if he asked, he doubted he would get a straight answer.
As he walked toward the door, Licerio felt the weight of the last minutes—or however long they had truly been—pressing down on his shoulders. So many questions without answers. And Telón would not answer any of them.
He left the room and went to get ready to see his mother. He walked along the corridor and came out into the garden, where she had been reading a book beneath the trees near the training ground.
She loved to rest in that spot—in the shade of the oak, with the gentle breeze that moved through Lisea—reading a book or watching her husband train.
"Mother." Licerio greeted his mother, who was absorbed in her book.
Melia set the book down and smiled at her son. "Oh? It seems you remember you have parents."
"Forgive me, Mother," Licerio said quickly. "It's my fault."
"What exactly is your fault? I'd like to hear it."
"Err… Yes. I shouldn't have taken such a risk going in to see Marlleo without knowing whether it was safe."
"I see you're still sharp, my son," she sighed, resigned. "That's not the only reason I'm upset. I'm upset because you haven't been careful enough with your safety. You are now the baron of two territories—and moreover, our son. If something were to happen to you…"
Melia could not finish the words and lowered her head. Licerio stood frozen in place, not knowing how to apologize. He could have argued back in several ways, but in that moment he seemed to have lost the ability, a knot rising in his throat and something in his mind going still.
The only words he could manage were "I'm very sorry."
Licerio moved to his mother and sat beside her, apologizing a little more.
"Don't do it again. Your safety matters more than anything else to us."
"Yes, Mother. I won't—not if I can help it."
Melia fixed him with a look but did not push further—she knew these situations could not always be avoided, though that did not stop her from scolding him regardless. After more than ten minutes, Licerio stood up, somewhat dazed, and took his leave.
The further he walked, the more he felt a small reluctance to go—wanting a little more time without having to face situations so strange and frightening.
That brief moment had managed to soften the edge of both times he had almost died. He could still feel that sensation—the suffocation, the exhaustion, the fear, the closeness of his death pressing in.
After returning to his room, he put on his nightclothes and lay down in his bed, claiming the rest he had earned. As he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, a thought struck without mercy: today he was supposed to have met with the constables and scribes of the villages of Rosea, but the whole situation with Marlleo and Telón had driven it completely from his mind.
Licerio called for the steward and had him notify the relevant constables of each village that he would be unable to meet with them, postponing the meeting by a few days.
Having sorted out his schedule, he lay back down; he had never felt his bed so comfortable, so soothing, so restful—and he was asleep.
The next day, the steward informed him that Knight Marlleo had opened his eyes and was having breakfast. The doctor had examined him and found his condition to be perfect, though he was showing some mental fatigue, and had recommended one more day of rest before returning to normal life.
After getting ready, Licerio went to the room where Marlleo was resting. He grabbed a chair from near the wall and dragged it over to the bedside.
Marlleo watched with a helpless expression as Licerio moved the chair himself, having already offered to do it for him. They had also argued a few moments earlier because Marlleo felt it was undignified to be lying in bed in front of Licerio, insisting he was in perfect health and that it was improper.
Moreover, he had wanted to kneel and ask Licerio's forgiveness; it was not he who had hurt Licerio, but it had been his body. His incompetence had led to that situation, and he had watched the entire confrontation with Telón from inside his body.
Licerio had ended up ordering him to lie down and stop talking nonsense. They had not yet spoken about anything of importance, and Licerio was already mentally exhausted, the air between them already growing tense.
As though any of it were Marlleo's fault; to Licerio, the whole sequence of events still felt like something out of a dream. The ruins, the sarcophagus, Marlleo's grave condition afterward, the first encounter with Telón, nearly finding a hand in his face, and a conversation in which he had almost died twice and come out more confused than when he had started.
He had already told Marlleo to set it aside, since there was nothing to be gained from dwelling on it. It had been something neither of them could have prepared for, much less anticipated; the only thing to do was treat it as an unavoidable event and carry on, taking reasonable precaution with Telón going forward.
"How does your body feel? It must be strange to have another being inside you."
"I'm better than before. Lord Telón has been quite peaceful since we spoke. Though we haven't talked all that much—he's fairly quiet."
Licerio paused for a moment and tried to imagine what a conversation between Marlleo and Telón inside his mind must be like, then asked with genuine curiosity, "How do you speak with each other?"
"It's strange to say out loud," Marlleo laughed nervously. "It's like having one more voice in my head—one that's mine and one that's Telón's. Though I don't particularly like communicating that way; it makes me feel like I've lost my mind," he said, making fun of himself.
Licerio looked at Marlleo confused, unable to understand how calm he was. How could he be so at ease with someone living inside his body? As he turned this over in his mind, he caught on to something in Marlleo's words, and his brow drew together before he asked.
"Wait — you're saying it as though you've already spoken with him before. Had you talked with him already—before today?"