Florian braced himself for the inevitable. His stomach had already begun to twist, the nausea rising like a wave—he was sure he was about to be sick.
But then—
Nothing.
The feeling disappeared as suddenly as it had co, leaving him cold and disoriented.
’What...?’
His breath hitched. His body, which had been monts away from violently rejecting the al, was now perfectly fine. No pain, no burning, not even lingering unease. It was as if the nausea had never been there at all.
A shiver crawled down his spine. The abrupt shift was unnatural, unsettling in a way he couldn’t quite na.
Florian barely had ti to process the confusion before he realized sothing else—Heinz still hadn’t let go.
He lifted his head slightly, taking in the steady warmth of Heinz’s grip, the effortless way he was being carried. There was no strain, no sign of difficulty—Heinz wasn’t even winded.
A flicker of heat burned at the edges of Florian’s pride.
’Okay, putting the nausea aside—how long does he plan on carrying ?’
Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Your Majesty."
No response.
"King Heinz," he tried again, quieter this ti.
Still, the man kept walking, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, his focus elsewhere.
Florian’s brow twitched.
"Alright, seriously—put down."
That got his attention.
Heinz finally glanced down, blinking as if only now realizing that he was still holding Florian. There was no embarrassnt in his expression, no awkwardness—just a slight hum of acknowledgnt before he lowered Florian onto his feet with practiced ease.
The mont his boots touched the ground, Florian took a deep breath, steadying himself. He adjusted his cloak, brushing off the ghost of Heinz’s hold.
"Thanks for the dramatic exit," he muttered, glancing back toward the house they had just left. The wooden structure stood still and quiet, but Florian could almost feel the weight of the villagers’ eyes from behind its thin walls. He exhaled sharply. "But now do you mind explaining what that was?"
Heinz crossed his arms. "Be more specific."
Florian scowled. "Don’t be like this, Your Majesty. You saw what happened. I thought I was going to puke my guts out, then suddenly—nothing. Was I poisoned, or what?"
"Don’t worry." Heinz’s voice was calm, unwavering.
Florian stared at him, incredulous. "Don’t worry? I almost vomited on you!"
There was a small rustling beneath his cloak, followed by the soft tickle of scales against his neck. A tiny snout peeked out, and before Florian could react, a rough, warm tongue flicked against his cheek.
Florian sighed. ’Of course.’
"Azure, I’m fine."
The small dragon let out a faint trill, his vibrant blue eyes still glimring with concern.
Florian reached up, absentmindedly running his fingers along Azure’s small, curved horns. The action soothed him more than he cared to admit.
Heinz, anwhile, was watching him with unreadable eyes. Then, at last, he spoke.
"It was ."
Florian blinked.
"...What?"
"I caused the nausea."
Florian furrowed his brows. ’You—? What? Why?!’ His confusion quickly shifted into irritation. "You what?"
Heinz didn’t react to his bewildernt. Instead, his gaze flickered, sharp and assessing. "Tell , did the at taste spicy to you?"
Florian hesitated, thrown off by the sudden question. "No? Should it have?"
Heinz exhaled, slow and asured. "Dreadboar at is known for its spice. It doesn’t matter how it’s cooked—raw, roasted, dried—it always leaves a sharp burn. The fact that you ate it without reacting ans that whatever they gave us was not dreadboar."
Florian’s stomach twisted—not from nausea this ti, but unease.
’Then what the fuck did I just eat?’
"So you made sick on purpose?" His voice was laced with exasperation, but beneath it was sothing else—sothing unsettled.
"Yes." Heinz didn’t waver.
Florian ran a hand down his face. "Gods," he muttered. "And here I thought I was actually dying."
"You weren’t."
"Yeah, well, felt like it."
Heinz didn’t reply, his gaze steady and unwavering. Florian sighed. He wanted to be annoyed—he should be annoyed—but deep down, he couldn’t even bla Heinz for it.
If he had really eaten sothing suspicious, then this was probably the least painful way to find out.
"Fine," Florian muttered, forcing himself to let it go—for now. He exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the dimly lit village. "So, what now? We just stord out of there, and I doubt they’re going to let that slide. If that wasn’t dreadboar, then what the hell were they trying to feed us?"
Heinz didn’t respond imdiately. His head tilted slightly, gaze scanning the darkened streets with an expression Florian couldn’t quite place. Not hesitation, not concern—sothing quieter. Calculating.
The silence stretched between them, thick and uneasy.
Florian frowned. "Your Majesty?"
"...I didn’t just bring us out because of the food."
Sothing in Heinz’s voice made Florian’s spine go rigid. His fingers instinctively tightened around Azure’s hilt.
Heinz finally turned to him, golden eyes unreadable under the flickering torchlight. "I’m sensing sothing."
Florian narrowed his eyes. "Sothing?"
"Magic." Heinz’s voice was calm—too calm. But there was a weight behind it, sothing pressing and undeniable. "A lot of it."
Florian’s breath hitched.
Magic wasn’t uncommon. But for Heinz to ntion it like this ant it wasn’t just so lingering traces from a passing mage. It was sothing stronger. Sothing unnatural.
A sharp gust of wind rushed past them, carrying the distant murmur of the village—the faint creak of wooden shutters, the whisper of unseen movent in the dark. Florian swallowed, an unexplainable tension settling into his chest. His grip tightened around Azure instinctively.
"I was still trying to confirm it, but now I have..." Heinz’s gaze darkened slightly, the gold of his irises gleaming in the low light. "Sothing is wrong with this place."
A cold chill curled in Florian’s gut.
’Great. Fantastic. Because the day wasn’t already terrible enough.’
"So, what are we doing?" His voice ca out quieter now, more asured.
Heinz’s gaze flickered, sharp and unwavering.
"We need a distraction."
Florian stared at him, incredulous.
’What?’
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