And then he saw Lombard, carefully pulling himself through the open door after the maid. He was dressed unlike Beam had ever seen him. Beam was so used to seeing him in military attire, that the simple white shirt and black cravat that he wore with it, they only served to further his disorientation.
But then he saw the empty sleeve of Lombard's shirt, and he recalled the battle. He met Lombard's gaze, a question written on his face. Lombard nodded briefly, before speaking to the maid.
"Leave us, Marianne. I'd speak with the boy, now that's awoken," Lombard told her.
"As you wish, Ser Lombard. But don't push him too hard – the Doctor will give us both hell if you do," Marianne said, leaving a cloth next to the bowl of water, she then spoke to Beam. "Oliver, there's a bowl there, if you wish to freshen yourself up."
"He's welcome to the baths," Lombard said.
"He isn't strong enough to go to the baths," Marianne said firmly, forcing Lombard, but with the serious look on her face, he dared not argue. Though she was his servant, in certain domains he allowed her to overrule even him, lest he catch some of her way-ward discontent. She left quietly, wearing the same expression.
The two listened to her footsteps fade, before speaking.
"Oliver..?" Beam said, repeating the name that she had called him. It was impossible to disguise the anxiety in his voice. Lombard waved a hand at that.
"Aye, Oliver. You've been asleep nearly a week, it was impossible to ask your opinion on it," Lombard said, crossing the room, and drawing the curtains with a swift jerk. Sunlight poured in through the glass panes.
Seeing Beam stand there, unspeaking, Lombard continued. "Is that not what you wanted? Are you dissatisfied? I suppose, awakening here, without a word for your comrades in Solgrim, that might irk you. But it had to be done. Still, if you are so against the idea, you may return from whence you came."
"No... No, it's not that," Beam said urgently, and as he did so, he found himself looking around the room. "It's just... Where am I, and truly why? I still can't understand this. A trick then, on Dominus' part, to pretend that I'm his son, to pretend that I'm nobility. But how – they'll know, they'll find out."
"They won't," Lombard said, a trace of irritation finding its way into his voice. "Your master was not stupid. Do not insult his memory with doubt. Had the circumstances been any different from what they were, then yes, the sudden appearance of a son would be called into question.
But with Dominus' history, his past, the mystery that shrouds his goings on, and with that battle, and all the strangeness in it, the mystery of your own appearance is overwritten. There could not be a more perfect time for it."
"Let me ask you a question, boy, before we proceed any further. What is it that you want? Dominus seemed to think you were of the aim of slaying the Pandora Goblin. He seemed to think that you were aiming for a warrior's greatness."
For the first time since he awoke, Beam had no doubts. The weakness had all but left his voice when he made his reply.
"I want to surpass my master," he said firmly, his eyes flickering to gold as he said it, his fist clenching. And then, after a pause, and a memory of the battle, he sucked in a deep breath, and embarrassedly admitted something else that he had begun to harbour. "...I also wish to... lead, perhaps... But Dominus was unable to teach me that.
He told me that people and strategy were two things that lay beyond him."
The one-armed commander listened, struggling to hide the approval in his eyes. With those words of Beam's, he was sure that they had not made the wrong decision. A week's worth of doubts were swiftly washed away.