He resisted the urge to complain. Instead, he reached down towards his thigh.
He began massaging the numb area with both hands. Working his way down as best he could. It was something he remembered doing when he was younger. Whenever his legs went numb after sitting in an awkward position for too long.
Whether it would help now was another matter. But he had to try something.
Bending forward sent a sharp twinge through his body. He had to stop for a moment until the discomfort subsided. Even a simple movement seemed to demand more effort than it should have.
Still, he persisted.
He worked in short stretches. Stopping whenever the strain became too much. Giving himself time to recover before trying again. His body tired quickly. He could feel his stamina draining with every attempt. But gradually, he began to notice a difference.
The numbness hadn't disappeared. But his leg responded a little better whenever he moved it.
That was something, at least.
An hour passed before he finally managed to bend his knee more comfortably.
He was still far from being able to walk normally. But compared to how he'd felt earlier, the improvement was noticeable.
Just as he was preparing to try again, a knock came from the door.
"Please, come in," he called.
The door opened. A middle-aged woman stepped inside.
She wore a neat, ankle-length uniform made from dark blue fabric. Pressed so carefully that not a crease seemed out of place. Her brown hair was tied into a tidy bun. Her movements carried the quiet discipline of someone accustomed to serving a noble household.
In front of her, she pushed a steel serving cart. Its wheels rolled softly across the floor as she guided it towards the bed.
Several dishes had been arranged on the cart. Alongside plates, silverware, and a glass of water.
The moment the aroma reached him, Leonal's stomach growled.
Right. Apparently I've been too busy having an existential crisis to remember that I'm hungry.
The woman stopped beside the bed. Placed her hands neatly in front of herself. Bowed her head.
"Young Master, my name is Elira. Lady Silvia has entrusted me with bringing you your midday meal."
Leonal looked at her. Momentarily unsure how he was supposed to respond.
"Ah, you can leave it here. I'll manage on my own."
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Young Master Leonal. Lady Silvia personally instructed me to attend to all your needs."
He stared at her for a moment.
I'm literally your young master. Aren't you supposed to listen when I tell you something?
He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
There was little point arguing over something so trivial. Especially when he didn't have the energy for it.
"All right," he muttered. "Do whatever you need to do."
He shifted his body. Attempting to sit more comfortably while keeping his legs stretched out on the bed. The movement wasn't particularly graceful. Elira immediately stepped forward to help.
Leonal raised a hand.
"It's fine. I can manage."
She paused. Then respectfully stepped back. Allowing him to adjust himself as much as he could.
Once he was settled, Elira placed a flat bed tray across his lap. Began arranging the dishes on it.
Leonal glanced over the food.
Some of the dishes looked familiar. Reminded him of meals he'd eaten on Earth. Others were entirely new to him. Their ingredients and presentation unlike anything he could immediately identify.
Whatever they were, they smelled incredible.
The aroma alone made his stomach growl again. He decided that figuring out the local cuisine could wait until after he'd eaten.
Elira finished arranging the dishes. Stepped back to stand beside the bed. Her hands folded neatly in front of her.
Leonal glanced at her.
"You're going to stand there the whole time?"
"Of course, Young Master. I'm here to attend to you."
Right. Of course you are.
He decided not to argue. Turned his attention to the food.
He picked up a spoon. Took a mouthful of porridge.
Then he stopped.
For a moment, he simply sat there. Staring at the bowl as the flavour settled over his tongue.
What in God's name is this?
It was warm. Rich. Unbelievably smooth. With a depth of flavour he couldn't quite put into words. He'd eaten porridge plenty of times before. But nothing he'd tried on Earth came close to this.
Is this what people in heaven eat?
He took another spoonful.
Then another.
Whatever doubts he had about this world, its food was already making a convincing argument in its favour.
He moved on to the other dishes. Sampling each one before quickly returning to his favourites. The more he ate, the harder it became to stop. After everything he'd been through, he hadn't realised just how hungry he was until the first few mouthfuls had gone down.
By the time he reached the dessert, most of the food had disappeared.
He leaned back slightly. Feeling a rare sense of satisfaction settle over him. A small burp escaped before he could stop it.
Well. That was embarrassing.
He glanced towards Elira. But she showed no sign of reacting. If she'd noticed, she was professional enough to pretend otherwise.
Once he'd finished, Elira stepped forward. Began collecting the used plates and utensils. She arranged them neatly on the cart. Checked the bed tray. Cleared away the few crumbs that had fallen around it.
She then returned with a small bowl of warm water and a clean cloth.
Before Leonal could ask what she was doing, she positioned the bowl beneath his hands. Began pouring a little water over them.
He stiffened.
"Wait, wait. What are you doing?"
Elira paused. Looked at him in mild confusion.
"Cleaning your hands, Young Master."
"I can do that myself. Just hold the bowl for me."
She hesitated. Perhaps surprised by the request. But eventually nodded.
Leonal dipped his hands into the warm water. Washed them himself. It felt strange having someone attend to such a basic task. And he wasn't comfortable letting her do everything for him.
Once he'd finished, Elira offered him the cloth.
He took it. Dried his hands. Wiped his mouth.
"There. All done."
"Very good, Young Master."
Why does that sound like I've just completed a lesson?
He decided not to dwell on it.
Elira tidied the remaining items. Gave him another respectful bow. Left the bedchamber with the serving cart.
The room fell quiet again.
Leonal waited until the door had closed. Then shifted his attention back to his leg.
He still hadn't seen his own face. But there wasn't much he could do about that until he could move around more comfortably. For now, he had a more immediate problem to deal with.
He resumed massaging his leg. Working from his thigh down towards his calf and toes. Whenever the strain became too much, he stopped to rest before continuing.
Time slipped by without him noticing.
He bent forward as far as he could. His fingers reaching for his toes. The movement pulled at his lower back. His muscles trembled with the effort. But he gradually managed to stretch a little farther than before.
After several attempts, he finally managed to bend his knee enough to reach his toes.
He held the position for a moment. Breathing through the discomfort.
Progress. Slow, painful progress. But progress all the same.
During that time, Elira returned twice to check on him. Each time, she quietly asked whether he needed anything. Observed his condition before leaving again.
Leonal gave her little reason to worry. Insisting that he was fine even when his body told him otherwise.
By the time he finished his latest attempt, his leg was responding better than it had when he'd first woken up.
It still wasn't normal. And he had no idea how long it would take to recover completely.
But at least he could move it more freely now.
For the moment, that was enough.Apart from Elira, no one else had come to visit him. Not that Leonal minded. After everything that had happened, a little peace and quiet was exactly what he needed.
Once he was satisfied that he could move his leg a little better, he decided to try something more ambitious.
Standing up.
He carefully lowered his feet to the floor. The cold surface sent a faint chill through his skin. Bearable, though. Before attempting anything else, he rubbed his legs for a while. Made sure they felt warm enough to support his weight.
Then, bracing himself with one hand against the bed, he slowly pushed himself upright.
His legs trembled almost immediately.
Whoa. Easy there.
He tightened his grip on the bed. Waited for the worst of the dizziness to pass. His knees felt unreliable. Even keeping himself upright required more effort than he'd expected.
For a moment, he wondered whether this was a terrible idea.
Then his stubbornness kicked in.
He shifted his weight forward. Managed to take a step.
It wasn't pretty. His legs wobbled beneath him like a toddler learning to walk. He nearly lost his balance before he could take another step. But he stayed upright.
That's one.
He glanced around the room. Searching for something to support himself. A mirror stood about five metres away. Beside a chair. Thankfully, the wall offered him something to lean against along the way.
It was going to be a long five metres.
Keeping one hand against the wall, Leonal slowly made his way forward. Each step felt like an accomplishment. Though not necessarily one he wanted to repeat anytime soon. His breathing grew heavier. His body trembled with the effort. By the time he reached the mirror, he felt like he'd just climbed a mountain.
Five metres. I nearly died walking five metres.
He spotted the chair beside the mirror. Immediately reached for it. Once he was sure he had a firm grip, he lowered himself into the seat.