29 One for one

There was no need for modesty, especially because they've already seen each other unclothed so many timed and even had the pleasure of sharing the same bed.

"I can't believe you had that the entire time," Leonel glared at the eyeglasses on Julian's face.

Julian raised a brow as he removed his glasses from his face. Unfortunately, they hadn't escaped unharmed, a light crack decorated the left lense and no matter how much Julian thumbed the annoying line in his vision, it wasn't going to go away. If hedgewitches and professional artificers were still a thing, then he could have had it quickly fixed. Alas, the new regime had a stick up its ass and called a stop to any progress that Julian had so painstaking set into place with his old council.

Oh well.

Such was life. He flopped down on the bed and grumbled when Leonel came over and kicked him to encourage him to move aside. "Where are your manners?" He complained playfully after rolling over.

In an establishment as downtrodden as the one they were in, there wasn't anywhere to draw a bath, and they were instead forced to sleep in the stink of their filth. Fatigue ate away at Julian's bones. Years of being confined to his little shed on the top of Motsven's hill made him weak, his stamina short. Though he wouldn't admit it, his limbs were already mush, and he wanted nothing more than to drown in the land of dreams. But instead of settling down on the other side of the bed like a normal person, Leonel hovered above him, arms trapping him below.

With a deep sigh, Julian peeled his eyes and rolled onto his back and looked up at the looming shadow of Leonel above him. Though without his glasses, he could only see a blur of colors and had to rely on his imagination to see Leonel's unhappy scowl. "My good man, just what do you think you're doing to a delicate, defenseless maiden such as myself?" Julian mocked with a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to expose the long expanse of his neck.

Leonel only narrowed his eyes, long used to Julian's ridiculous taunts. The pang of annoyance was still vivid but gone was the churning disgust he used to feel upon hearing words as shameless as such. "Your magic," the Inquisitor pointed out, "where did you learn it?"

The similarities between Julian's magic and the Astrum Magi was too hard to ignore. His hand came down and pressed down on Julian's right thigh, cupping over the expanse of scarred skin. He felt the way that Julian jolted subtly beneath the hold. Leonel wouldn't dare to admit to the tingle of excitement that shot down his side. "How did this happen? And who were you before you became Motsven's Good Doctor?"

Julian bit back the pain and grinned, fearlessly meeting the narrowed eyes that glared down at him. This close he could make out the blue glow of Leonel's eyes that bore down at him. "That's a lot of questions, my good Inquisitor. How about this? In exchange for answering one of my questions, I will answer one of yours in turn."

"..."

"Oh, where is that fair and gallant Ferryman? Surely, there's no need to bully or threaten me into answering your questions when you're so mysterious and enigmatic yourself." Julian chuckled. He decided to be little brazen and threw his arms around the Inquisitor's neck, even pulling him down until their breaths mingled and Julian could feel the slope of Leonel's nose against his own.

Leonel wasn't going to easily back off from the game of chicken and remained there in the position, so terrible close that with one wrong movement their lips might brush. "Fine. Tell me where you learned your magic."

Julian grinned, "Don't be so pushy. Your diplomacy is awfully terrible."

"You have my word. I won't go back on it." Leonel insisted.

"...I'm not sure I want to tell my life story in such an awkward position."

"You're the one that pulled me down like this."

"Ah yes, but you can easily pull yourself free now can't you?"

"..."

Leonel did precisely that, yanking his body upward. Julian let go and began to sit up, expecting the Inquisitor to give him space to talk.

But he had let his guard down a bit too early. Before he could even register what was going on, a large hand circled his bicep. He was thrown over, and in a blink of an eye, their positions were switched! Leonel was now lying down on the bed, and Julian sat splayed over the younger man's thighs.

"Oh…" Julian blinked, looking down trying to make out the blur of Leonel's expression, "My, has this Inquisitor lost any sense of shame and sensibility? So daring! I don't know if you can tell, but I'm blushing here."

"Shut up." Julian could hear in Leonel's voice that the Inquisitor was smiling. He'd never admit that he thought the overgrown manchild a little cute. "Just tell me already.

Julian grinned and laid down on Leonel's chest like a lazy cat, his arms folded between them. Leonel's hands were over his thighs, holding him in place to prevent him from bolting but it seemed he had enough of a mind not to press too hard on his right leg. What a gentleman, Julian thought sarcastically.

"Are you familiar with the Stampede Prince?"

Leonel's expression darkened at the name. "I do."

The Stampede Prince was a powerful man and an even better mage. He was known for taking in a congregation of orphans, each talented and skilled and used them to do his bidding. However, this eventually backfired on him when he took in a child that would later become the Blueiron Mage King.

"He's the one that showed me the ropes. It's not that interesting. Prince Rother's magic might not have been the most terrifying, nor did he have superior circuits, but he had a rock-solid foundation in his understanding of spells. Why else do you think he was able to raise so many successful and powerful mages?"

"You're Astrum Magi, aren't you?" Leonel accused.

Julius laughed, "Not everyone under Rother's tutelage became Astrum Magi. Some died prematurely. Others ran away. But that's enough questioning from you!" He poked the Inquisitor in the chest and purred, "It's my turn now."

Leonel was unsatisfied, but he also couldn't go back on his words so easily, "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Why did you become an Inquisitor?"

Well, that was a question that was an easy question to answer. His voice turned dark, "I'm going to kill the Blueiron Mage King, Amari. If you might know where he is you better not keep it from me?"

Julian regretted lying down flush against the Inquisitor. Even if his expression betrayed no change, his heart had definitely skipped a beat upon hearing that name. His lips went dry.

But he kept a natural smile. "Are you stupid?" He chuckled, "Amari is dead. And so his dream, and his officials. What's the point in chasing shadows?"

Leonel was beginning to wonder as well. But he wasn't about to give up on a seven-year-long grudge so easily and snarled, "One question for one question."