The next day, there were piles of random shit outside of Julian's shack.
Trunks of stuff, the old armor and way too many potted plants to count. The stuffed bear still had a place indoors though, allowing it to remain safe from the elements.
Dog lazily stretched on the roof, basking in the first stream of sunlight that came with dawn. The wyvern pup cawed lazily with a deep yawn, flicking out a forked tongue to taste the wind. But movement caught its attention. The pup tilted its head in curiosity as a figure stepped outside of its master's home.
Who was this person that emerged out of the confines of its nest so early in the morning? Certainly not its master! Dog stretched its wings and flew down to inspect the oddity further.
To the wyvern pup's shock, it really was the Doctor who was outside at such an early hour.
"Shut up," Julian grumbled as he stretched, swatting at the flying beast that fluttered too close. "It's too early to hear your complaints."
Who said Dog was complaining?
Today, Julian did not bring his walking stick. A Blueiron armor surrounded his lame leg, cuffing around the thigh and locked below and above the joint before tapering down into what appeared no different than an armored boot aside from the veins of blue that glowed along the sides. A Blue Stone glowed at the very top of the Blueiron armor, fueling the mechanism with power.
The entire device was of Julian's creation. Here out in the sticks without much material, money or much mana of his own left, this was the best that he could manage. It was going to be long before the Blue Stone began to overheat and burn into his skin and flesh. And time was already ticking.
Yet, Julian did not bear any appearance of a person in any hurry. He tested his weight on both legs and stretched his spine then took off his seeing glasses to give them a good wipe down.
It wasn't often he put on his iron leg and when he did, Julian loved nothing more than taking his time. With this device he could retrace the forest trail with relative ease.
Morning birds sang him serenades as he passed as spring slowly was melting into summer, the air grew thick with humidity.
Julian returned to the sight where the Inquisitor was found and poked around to see if there was anything left to salvage. But it seemed that he wasn't the first person to come by since they retrieved the man. Much of the items left behind had been scavenged, from his coat to his leather armor and obsidian gauntlets.
The Witch Slayer, however, was still here lying on the ground. Whoever came by probably was not keen on taking such a dangerous weapon or the rumored curse that came with all the mages slain by its blackened steel. It was said that a Witch Slayer, once forged, could not be broken down because of the ghosts it trapped within.
Julian reached down and lifted the sword. It wasn't as heavy as it looked but there was definitely something about the metal that made him quiver and feel disconcerted. He decided that he wasn't a fan of the thing.
There was nothing else left of value, so Julian looked around for clues from whence the Inquisitor came. The trails were no longer fresh but Julian could tell that they came from northeast. A town lay in that direction, past a dense patch of forest at the base of mountains called Fauster.
The villagers in Mostven called Fauster a city, but to Julian it was just another shit town like many others that dotted the map. Did the Inquisitor have trouble there? He would have to keep an ear out for rumors coming from that direction.
Satisfied with his little trip, Julian made his way back home, bringing the Witch Slayer back with him.
Seeing the piles of items left outside made him feel a little troubled. Julian did not like that he had to move so many of his treasures just to make room for that new enigmatic guest.
Just as he reached for the door Julian stopped, a tingle tickled his nerves.
Precaution wasn't a bad thing.
Slowly, he peeled off the Blueiron armor outside and hid it in one of the trunks. The armor was something that siphoned power directly from a mage's circuits, the wearer would instantly be incriminated as a mage. Sure, there were many other things around Julian's home that were considered illegal in the eyes of the new regime and the Order of Divine Light, but punishment for using magical tools was not quite the same as being found guilty of being a mage.
Better not take any chances. Luckily, there was no sure-fire way of identifying a mage, so long as they do not actively use their circuits.
Julian took a deep breath. His circuits were so fried in the first place that it was a miracle he could still cast as spells as all. He was confident that he wouldn't be easily discovered, as long as the other villagers didn't' blabber about his powers.
…That was a problem he would deal with later.
For now, he clicked open the door and stepped inside.
It was quiet. The hairs on Julian's nape instantly stood up. The cot where the stranger was supposed to be laying was empty. The rope and cloth that Julian had tied securely around the man was left, thrown aside, cut. How he got himself free without any use of weaponry was completely beyond Julian and he wasn't given any time to ponder the thought.
He instinctively froze. A cold edge touched his neck, causing him to tilt his head up slightly. A tall figure was pressed flush behind him, though he could only make out the shadow and the slowed breathing against his ear.
With false bravado Julian smirked, "So this is how I'm repaid after saving your life? Hah! Laughable. Kids these days really know no manners."
"..."
The knife was only pressed even close, denting the soft skin on his neck. Julian feared that just swallowing will cause it to cut into his jugular.
"...I'm Julian, but most people just call me Doctor."
"..."
"Okay…" Julian dragged out the word, feeling a little antsy at the lack of reaction. Was this some sort of Inquisition interrogation method? It was certainly unnerving. "Now would be a fine time to offer your name."
Julian didn't like that he was leaning flush against the man's chest either. It made him feel small in comparison and he disliked how he could pick up the languid calm strum of the stranger's heart, not showing even the slightest bit of anxiety. He also worried about aggravating that wound on his abdomen. This fool really ought to be staying in bed. But Julian wasn't stupid enough to scold a person literally holding a knife to his throat.
Another moment passed. Julian was quietly counting down the seconds but he refused to lose composure and only stood still.
What felt like an eternity later, he was finally let go. The knife was pulled away and Julian released a breath as he scowled, rubbing the skin that was abused by its edge. A little bit of blood was left on his fingertips, causing him to scrunch his nose up in distaste. The fucker.
"Leonel."
"What?"
Relaxing was Julian's mistake. He had spent too many years living in tranquility. Just as he was about to turn around to take a good look at his unworthy patient, a sharp blow snapped against his neck.
His consciousness went out like a candlelight.
"The name's Leonel."