The next day, Amukelo rose early. He stepped out making his way toward the tailor shop to pick up the suit he had ordered.
As he entered the shop, the tailor looked up from his work, giving Amukelo a tired nod. He gestured to a neatly folded bundle on the counter and, with a faint look of apology, handed it over.
"It's done," the tailor said, his tone a mix of pride and reluctance. "But… well, I'll be honest—it's still not perfect. The quality of the suit didn't improve much, even with the adjustments. This fabric… it just wasn't built for much, and the stitching could only do so much."
Amukelo nodded, not showing much reaction as he unfolded the clothes, inspecting the results. The fabric still lacked the polish of his old attire, and the seams, though adjusted, held only a rudimentary neatness. Yet, he didn't seem to care; it was enough for him. With a simple nod of acknowledgment, he thanked the tailor, handed over the payment, and folded the suit back into his bag.
Back at the inn, he climbed the stairs to his room, ready to finish his preparations for the day. But as he turned down the hallway, he glanced toward Eliss's door. A faint hesitation crossed his face before he let out a resigned sigh. With everything going on, he felt the growing sense that she needed checking on, especially after last night's adventure at the pub. He walked up to her door and knocked.
"Eliss," he called out, his tone brisk. "Are you okay?"
There was a longer pause, and he waited, listening for any response. At last, he heard a muffled voice through the door, garbled and incoherent.
"Am… ot… ilig… oagy…"
Amukelo frowned. "What?"
After another pause, he heard her voice again, weak and strained. "I'm… not… feeling… okay…"
Amukelo rolled his eyes, exasperated but vaguely amused. "Can I come in?"
A few seconds of silence passed, then he heard her mutter something that sounded vaguely like "okay." He pushed open the door and took in the sight before him.
Eliss lay sprawled on her bed, looking a bit pale and disheveled. Her face had a slightly feverish flush, and beside her bed sat a bucket that had clearly been put to use. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were half-closed, blinking slowly as if even the light from the window was too much.
Amukelo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked at her. "Are you sure you're going to be able to take care of yourself?"
Eliss gave a long, dramatic sigh, her gaze drifting toward him with a look of exaggerated helplessness. "Don't… leave me," she mumbled.
He sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at her with a mix of frustration and reluctant sympathy. "I have a very important meeting today, Eliss. I can't spend the whole day nursing you back to health."
She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, her expression as pitiful as it was over-the-top. "Please… just bring me some water, and maybe… something light to eat?" Her voice was small and pleading.
Amukelo let out another sigh, rolling his eyes. "Fine. But I have to make it quick—I don't have much time left."
Eliss managed a faint smile, nodding with a sigh of relief. "Thank you… now go."
Amukelo's exasperation deepened as he turned to leave. "I'm not your servant, you know!" he called back with irritation.
He left her room, muttering to himself as he descended the stairs. "Why did I even agree to let her come along?" he grumbled under his breath.
On his way out of the inn, he stopped by a nearby stall that was just opening up for the day. He bought some fruits and water.
"Babysitting," he muttered to himself as he accepted the fruits. "I can't believe I'm babysitting her on top of everything else…"
Then he made his way back to the inn. When he reached Eliss's door, he knocked once, then twice. No response. After a third, slightly louder knock, he frowned, finally deciding to open the door himself. Peering in, he saw her lying on the bed, fast asleep, her breathing slow and even, her face still slightly flushed but peaceful.
Amukelo's initial reaction was frustration, his mouth opening in preparation for a grumble. "What did I even bring you this food for?" he muttered to himself.
But as he moved closer, setting the food and water down on a small table by her bed, his gaze softened just slightly. Eliss looked much younger in her sleep, her face relaxed and almost innocent, the usual spark of her energy and determination replaced with a quiet vulnerability. There was a strange sense of peace about her.
Amukelo paused, feeling an odd sense of calm himself as he watched her, this young girl who, despite all her quirks and unrelenting energy, had managed to earn his loyalty. He looked at her with a faint, barely perceptible hint of warmth, his hardened gaze softening as he took in the sight of her resting, undisturbed by the challenges of the journey ahead.
After a long moment, he exhaled quietly, feeling an odd but welcome sense of peace settle over him. As he turned to leave, he glanced back one last time, muttering to himself with a sigh, "I guess it's not that bad after all."
As Amukelo left Eliss's room, he returned to his own room and put on the suit he'd just picked up. It was much tighter than it was before, hugging his shoulders and waist in ways that felt both restrictive and odd. Despite the stiffness, he had to admit that the adjustments had improved the appearance of the suit—it looked more polished than the ragged state it had been in when he'd first handed it over to the tailor.
Glancing out the window, Amukelo looked at the sun, and his heart dropped. I'm late! And he barely had time to gather himself before rushing out of the inn, nearly colliding with a passing stable hand as he sped into the street.
When he finally reached the front gate, he was greeted by the same two guards from the previous day. They raised their eyebrows as they recognized him, and one of them shook his head, muttering to his companion.
"So you're late to something you yourself initiated?" the guard said. "Why does our lord want to associate with someone like you?"
Amukelo let out a breath, composing himself as best he could, but before he could respond, the second guard chimed in, his gaze drifting over Amukelo's attire.
"And what are those clothes? You look like a tied-up chicken!" he sneered, his mouth twitching with barely restrained laughter.
Amukelo chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I… had some issues," he replied, trying to brush off the embarrassment.
The guards shared an amused look but ultimately stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As Amukelo walked into the mansion's grand entryway, he let out a small sigh of relief, hoping that would be the last of the remarks about his attire. However, his hopes were quickly dashed as the butler appeared from the side hall, his gaze immediately falling on Amukelo with a look of mild surprise.
"Ah, Mr. Amukelo," the butler greeted him politely, though his eyes lingered on the too-tight suit with a touch of concern. "Your suit, young man… it seems… tighter than expected. And a bit… different."
Amukelo suppressed another sigh, though a faint grimace flickered across his face. "Does it really look that bad?" he asked.
The butler nodded, his expression gentle but truthful. "I'm afraid it does, sir. But one can hardly blame you. Travel, as we know, is unpredictable, and… well, things happen."
Amukelo's shoulders relaxed, though he couldn't help feeling a pang of loss as he thought back to his original suit, the one that had been with him through so much.
The butler, sensing the weight of Amukelo's silence, gave him a sympathetic look before gesturing toward the main hall. "This way, if you please."
They walked towards the mansion's entrance. They passed, maids that already worked. The mansion was silent, with only the occasional murmur of servants as they went about their tasks.
The grand hall, which had been lively the last time Amukelo had visited, was now quiet and nearly empty. Only a few maids were working, doing their morning duties.
Finally, the butler led him to a smaller, more intimate room off the main hall. The door was carved with intricate designs. The butler opened the door, stepping aside to allow Amukelo to enter first.
Inside, the room was decorated in a darker wood, giving it a warm, almost cozy atmosphere compared to the grandeur of the main hall. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a fireplace crackled softly in one corner, its warmth filling the space with a comforting glow.
To one side, a small bar was stocked with bottles of fine liquor. Plush chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a low wooden table.
On the other side was a low table surrounded by couches. Seated in these couches were four people. He recognized Bral's parents, Lord Berthold and Lady Cressida. Opposite them sat Idin's parents, Lord Alaric and Lady Odette.
The butler, who had followed him into the room, cleared his throat softly, drawing the attention of the others. "Mr. Amukelo has arrived," he announced, giving a respectful nod before stepping back toward the door.
Berthold rose from his couch, as he extended his hand toward Amukelo. "Amukelo," he greeted warmly. "It's good to see you again."
Amukelo stepped forward, shaking Berthold's hand firmly. "Thank you for inviting me," he replied.