“What happened to you? Oh god, have you seen your hair?” Kyla was the first to hurry over. His hair, once meticulously cut and styled, now revealed random missing patches and haphazardly chopped sections throughout.

Leon caught her hand to stop her fussing, a tired look in his eyes. “I look good, don’t I?”

Kyla huffed. “Now is not the time for jokes! Who did this to you?”

A few feet behind them, Jaycee peered over their heads.

Kyla was serious. From his vantage point, the signs of torture were unmistakable. His swollen left eye was closed shut, as if struck by a bat. Something had burnt away parts of his hair, and the missing fingernails and dried blood under the remaining ones were evident when Kyla grasped his hand.

“What did they want to know?” asked Alec. He rolled up his sleeves and began assessing the damage.

Jaycee observed him as he worked, his diligent fingers carefully examining every facet.

“Lift your shirt.”

Ultimately, they helped him inside. The blacksmith provided them with a complimentary room for the evening. She promised that they would discuss business the following day.

The room sported two twin beds and an en suite bathroom. Although the air was musty, it was nothing that opening a window couldn't fix.

"I call the bed by the large window!" Kyla said. She flopped down beside Leon, who lay with his eyes shut and face turned toward the wall. Alec put him as far from the door as possible, knowing that in his current state, he would be of no help in a fight.

“No one wants to share a bed with someone who kicks in their sleep,” said Alec, referring to Kyla. He kept busy messing with the sheets on his bed, almost like he couldn’t get them the way he wanted.

“I do not,” she whined.

But she did. Kyla also had a bad habit of talking in her sleep, or as Jaycee liked to call it, her coma. The filter on her mouth was almost nonexistent in that state, and she was near impossible to wake up.

The group settled in, and silence took over the room. Kyla had helped Leon clean himself up with a washcloth. The ordeal must have worn him out, as his uneven breathing drifted over to where Jaycee laid.

Beside him, Alec immersed himself in a book. A small window above Alec's head allowed the day's last light to cascade over him, casting shadows as his hair fell across his face.

“What are you reading?” Jaycee asked. Driven by curiosity, he stole a quick look at the cover.

"A history textbook about the war; these are rare finds now." Alec, absorbed in the book, shifted his position on the bed without looking up.

“Yeah, they are.”

Jaycee learned from his parents as a child that the government had burned many old history books and essays. His father explained their belief that burning the books prevented people from forgetting the past, arguing that constant reminders of past mistakes made a better future impossible. This made it easier to overlook the misdeeds and harm they had inflicted.

Yet, the present reality was no improvement. Shouldn’t one learn from their mistakes instead of trying to hide them?

Jaycee glanced to the mercenary on the other side of the room. “Did Leon tell you what happened?”

“Alessio got ahold of him.”

What had transpired between then and now left little to the imagination, considering the condition they found Leon in.

“I wonder how he escaped, or if they let him run after getting what they wanted?” Jaycee contemplated, eyes drifting to Alec. It startled him when he found the man staring at him, heartbeat picking up.

“Leon is loyal. If I know Alessio, he let Leon go, so he’d lead him to us.”

While that logically made sense, Jaycee found it hard to concentrate on their current topic. Alec’s piercing gaze distracted him. Alec leaned forward, a few strands of his long hair tickled Jaycee’s arm.  

“Jaycee.” Alec whispered his next words, voice raspy. “What turned you into such a coward? Why are you scared to fight?”

“What do you—”

“This is not the man you were five years ago.”

Suddenly, the world around him stopped. “We’ve met before?”