Elira stared at him for a moment, her gaze examining him closely before she gave a small nod.
"I know. I believe in you," she said softly.
Theron nodded back and reached for the cup, bracing himself.
The tonic was as bitter as always, but this time, it burned in a different way. A warm, energizing heat spread through his body almost instantly. He could feel it working already—the ache in his ribs fading a little, the tightness in his shoulders loosening.
Elira watched him for a moment, then stepped closer and began removing his old bandages with practiced care.
She gently applied a crushed herb salve to each of his wounds before wrapping them with fresh bandages. Her hands were careful, precise, and tender, mixing skill with quiet concern.
Once she was done, she gathered the tray, the empty bowl, and the used bandages, getting ready to leave.
"I'll give you some space. Rest for a bit. I'll check on you later," she said.
Theron gave a faint nod as she turned to go, his eyes following her until the door closed behind her.
When the door clicked shut, silence filled the room once more.
He leaned back slightly, his eyes on the ceiling, now alone with his thoughts and worries.
He couldn't help but wonder if everything had gone according to plan last night.
He wasn't sure.
He would have to wait until Garlan and Brude arrived with a full report.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.
Not long after Elira left, there was a knock at the door. Theron straightened slightly, his eyes moving toward the wooden frame just as a familiar voice followed.
"Lord Theron," Brude called from outside, his voice calm but clearly tired, "may we come in?"
"You may," Theron called out.
The door creaked open slowly, and Brude stepped inside first, followed closely by Garlan.
Theron's sharp eyes immediately noted their condition—and what he saw wasn't reassuring at all.
Both men looked completely worn out, with dark circles under their eyes and pale skin stretched tight across tired faces. Their shoulders sagged, heavy with unseen weight.
For a moment, Theron just watched as they entered.
Though he was officially the village chief, he couldn't help but feel that Brude and Garlan carried a heavier load than he did.
While he had been stuck in bed recovering, they had been out in the storm, working to keep the village afloat and preparing for the war ahead.
He felt a quiet pity for them.
The two men stepped forward and bowed. "Lord Theron," they greeted.
"Good morning, you two," Theron replied with a small nod.
"How are you feeling today?" Brude asked, though he looked ready to fall over himself.
"I'm doing quite well, thanks to Elira. She brewed something strong—I'll be back on my feet soon enough," Theron answered.
Brude gave a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"That's good to hear," he said.
Theron nodded again, but his expression grew more serious.
"What about you two?" he asked. "You both look worse off than me. I take it neither of you got any sleep?"
Brude let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging from exhaustion.
"None," he said. "I've been up all night handling the village logistics—rationing supplies, trying to salvage enough resources to prepare for the coming battle."
Garlan spoke next, his voice flat and tired. "I was on night watch. Making sure no one else tried sneaking out."
Theron gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable but his respect for the two men deepening.
They were truly dependable—reliable to the very end. He hoped his plan would bear fruit soon. Not just to break his own curse, but for their sake too. They deserved a better outcome than what the current path offered.
But now wasn't the time for hollow comfort. They didn't need sympathy or empty reassurances. What they needed was direction—a clear path forward.
So with a deep breath, Theron shifted the conversation.
"Speaking of traitors," he said, changing the tone, "has Yarik returned yet?"
Garlan nodded. "Yes. He came back shortly after midnight. I intercepted him and locked him up for now. I figured we should wait for your word before doing anything further."
"Did you keep it discreet?"
"As much as I could," Garlan replied. "No one saw me bring him in. But a few of his close friends have already started asking about his whereabouts this morning."
"That's fine," Theron said. "He's well-liked enough for people to notice his absence, but not important enough to stir unrest. Let them wonder. As long as we don't give them answers, their curiosity will fade once things start heating up."
The two men nodded, though the lines on their faces remained. The weight in the air returned, thick and heavy, until Brude finally broke the silence.
"So… what now, Lord Theron?" he asked. His voice was low, but steady. "What's the next step?"
Theron didn't respond immediately. He let the pause stretch, using it to gather his thoughts. His mind ran through the final pieces of the plan as he studied the expressions of the men before him.
Then he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp and focused.
"Now that Yarik has delivered the false intel to the Vanilia forces, they'll think they have the upper hand. They'll start preparing an ambush, assuming we're blind and vulnerable." His eyes gleamed. "We'll use that against them—we'll strike while they're getting ready to strike us."
The words lingered in the air.
Garlan furrowed his brow. Brude shifted slightly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
"It's a solid move," Garlan said after a moment. "They'll be caught off-guard, disorganized at first. If we move fast, we might land a serious blow."
"But…" Brude added, finishing the thought, "it's not enough."
Theron watched them carefully. He already knew that. He knew this move alone wouldn't win the battle.
Even if they held the advantage of surprise, the enemy still had numbers and strength.
The ambush would throw them into confusion—but trained soldiers recover quickly. Once the shock faded, they would regroup. And when that happened, Theron's side would be left facing a full-force counterattack.
This move would only buy them a short moment—a narrow window that would close quickly.
But that was only if that was truly his plan.
Theron suddenly laughed, catching both men off-guard.
They exchanged confused glances, not understanding what he found amusing.
Theron continued to laugh for a moment, then slowly, his laughter faded, replaced by a cold, cunning smile. His voice dropped, sharp and calculating.
"Who said we'd be the ones ambushing them?"