Henry didn't slept properly in weeks. Seeing Vell's matches just made it even worse, making him paranoid that he will be killed soon. He was a warrior, a respected member of the Iron Vanguard, yet he was reduced to this: a nervous wreck, jumping at shadows.
He was losing himself, and for what? To protect a secret that felt like a festering wound in his soul?
He closed his eyes, the pressure of Vell's blade still a vivid memory against his throat. He had to do something. But what? Go to the Guild Masters? He'd rehearsed the conversation a hundred times in his head, and each time it ended with him being killed, it was too risky.
"I am not sure what he wants but all i have to do is stay out of his way and I will be fine." He got up and walked into his kitchen, making some quick noodles to eat. After heading out into the living room, his body froze and he dropped the noodle bowl.
