An unpleasant dream and too little sleep, but Handel's sensitivity to his surroundings had him out of bed long before Moor.
By the time Moor woke up the next morning, Handel had already washed up and returned to the room. He had also brought Moor breakfast: a still-steaming local specialty, sausage wrapped in bread.
Seeing Moor getting up, Handel shared the news as he set down the food and attended to a few small tasks.
"Doya City is fairly orderly at the moment. There's no major news, and the effects of the war have faded. It seems to be thriving now. Word of your affairs is even less likely to reach here. Who knows, the Bach authorities might even reward you if they knew you'd been stirring up trouble in Dierjia."
Moor rubbed his forehead and put on his coat.
"I wasn't stirring up trouble in Dierjia."
Handel fell silent for a moment.
"Sorry, that was a poor choice of words. It's just that, to some people, it really does look that way."
Moor did not seem bothered. Bracing his hands against his legs, he stood and walked over to the washbasin to wash up. Handel watched him closely from the side.
Moor was no longer young, nor was he a supernatural being. Although they had reached their destination without serious incident, the journey had still had its share of hardships. Even Handel felt exhausted, yet Moor seemed to be holding up, so much so that Handel had never needed to use some of the measures he had prepared.
"Mr. Moor, has anyone ever told you that you have remarkable energy and stamina?"
Seeming to understand what Handel meant, Moor turned around, wiping his face with a towel.
"I hope so. My cause, my ideals, and my convictions won't allow