"At first he didn't try to speak with me—his only actions were attempts to take over my body. After failing at that, he went straight for my head, and that was the first time I could hear his voice. I didn't know how to fight him, but a few moments later he calmed down and seemed to stop pushing for my mind, and we started talking."
Licerio was quite struck by Marlleo's account. It was all so strange and bizarre—and there he sat, telling it calmly; anyone would have thought he was talking about his day rather than events that had nearly killed him.
"Why did he stop? What did you talk about?"
"I don't know—it never occurred to me to ask. We didn't talk about anything important. We reached an arrangement to let him stay in my body while he recovers. He's quite easy to get along with."
"Then why did he attack me? I don't think I did anything to provoke him," Licerio muttered, irritated.
"It's because of the pendant you took from the ruins. That pendant was one of his most prized possessions. It's not powerful, but it's quite special—and you took it, my lord."
Licerio suppressed the urge to touch his chest. The pendant was still there.
"He could simply have asked me to give it back," he murmured, still irritated. "Though since he's never mentioned the pendant, I suppose he no longer wants it."
He was tempted to pull the pendant out right there and inspect it—he wanted to find what made it special. Out of respect, and perhaps some degree of caution, he decided against taking it out in front of Marlleo, in case Telón was listening and took offense.
"Have you talked about anything else? I imagine you don't speak all that often."
"I always started the conversations—he doesn't seem to be much of a talker. He also allowed me to tell you something fairly important." Marlleo paused, and then his voice changed, filling with something Licerio could not quite identify until a second later: "To recover more quickly, he needs a host who is strong and attuned to his law—and for that purpose, he will teach me the path of concealment."
It was happiness. Excitement. Marlleo was overflowing with it.
The room fell into a dense silence, with no clear way out of it. Licerio was too stunned; Marlleo had released a great deal of important information all at once, allowing him no time to take it in. It was like driving a hundred nails into a plank in a single second—nothing could hold up under that.
Is he truly that generous? Licerio thought. Impossible—this can't be as simple as it seems. He didn't strike me as a benevolent person, much less a kind one.
He turned the matter over until he reached a conclusion. He had to make the most of this opportunity and prepare for any bad situation that might arise. He did not believe Telón would outright kill Marlleo—nor would he let him face death if he could avoid it.
In his mind, he could not stake everything on a gut feeling—but he supposed that Telón was currently so weak he was unable to change hosts, given how much he had shown of himself. If changing hosts were easy, why would he stay in Marlleo?
He had pulled back the moment he met even slight resistance that could have killed the body he was trying to take. And showing so much of his power had been quite strange.
"Try to learn everything you can. And if he's listening—thank you for training my knight."
Marlleo smiled faintly.
Licerio left the room, and outside the door broke into an uncontrollable smile. His excitement was at its peak, barely contained within him. The very thought of having a knight loyal to him becoming a theurge filled him with a torrent of emotions.
This was a secret resource—no one would know of its existence. Moreover, he would be practicing the path of concealment. It was perfect.
Though what excited him most was the prospect of what it would feel like to have a theurge under his command. He wondered whether his strange talent might also allow him to share in the powers of the theurges who served him; he could only wait and hope that it would.
The next day, he set out for the territory of Rosea with López, going to meet with the constables to discuss the creation of the public schools.
The journey to Rosea was a welcome relief. For hours, Licerio did not think about Telón, or the pendant, or Marlleo learning concealment. Only the road, the air, and the villages they passed through. But the closer they drew to the territory, the more a mix of anticipation and wariness grew in his chest.
It took nearly a full day to reach the first village of Rosea. They spent the night in a nearby village and moved through the rest of them the following day.
A few remained, including the central village of Rosea, where the former baron had lived.
Licerio and López were approaching the village on horseback. At its entrance, numerous people had gathered.
Licerio recognized a few of them—among them the constable and his scribe, whom he had met previously during his naming as baron, as representatives of the village of Rosea.
But his expression hardened and his eyes went cold the more he studied the faces mixed in at the entrance. The great majority of those gathered were celebrating his arrival, their voices carrying a contained, genuine happiness. But there was a portion that looked like an infection clinging to the happy villagers—smiling the same way, but without warmth, their eyes sharp.
Among them, he recognized two important figures easily. One was an older man with a whitish beard and mustache, his eyebrows and hair fighting to hold on to a younger appearance. Beside him, a shorter man with thick eyebrows, disheveled hair, and a contemptuous gaze.
Those two were the leaders of two of the most powerful guilds in the territory of Rosea. The more troubling sight was seeing, close to them, secretaries and trusted men from the guilds of Lisea. He recognized a few of them from past meetings—and there were even some senior members of the Lisea and Rosea guilds hidden among the crowd.
When Licerio reached the entrance, the earlier faces vanished, replaced by broad smiles and the finest compliments they could produce, heaping praise on Licerio as though he were the greatest saint of the age.
López, at his side, had also noticed the situation, and his face darkened—he wanted to climb down from his horse and drive that pack of animals away from his lord.
A small gesture of Licerio's hand settled him down, and López fell in quietly behind him. Though he appeared calm, his gaze burned into every face gathered there, memorizing them; he would not forget this offense to his lord.
"I see I am quite well loved in the village of Rosea—though I also notice some faces from Lisea. As your baron, I am very moved to see such dedication to my person."