Harbinger Of Glory-Chapter 121: Relentless.

Carlo and Leo slipped quietly into the tactical room, the chatter in the room immediately surrounding them as they closed the door behind them.

Marco, who was standing near the projector, immediately looked up.

His eyes lingered on Carlo first, checking, judging, but seeing that the boy seemed to have shaken off his gloomy mood from earlier, Marco gave a small, approving nod.

Then his gaze moved to Leo, who just kept walking straight for the back row like he’d been there all week, and that wasn’t very far off from the truth.

Carlo, still adjusting his training jacket, found an empty seat halfway down and dropped into it.

Leo glanced once toward the side and caught Fornella already seated at the back, notebook open, pen between his fingers.

The older midfielder gave him a small nod to which Leo returned, before setting down his own book, flipping it open as if to prove he was paying attention before anything even started.

A few seconds later, the door swung open again.

This time, the chatter stopped completely.

The man who walked in was older, compact, sharp in posture, commanding a respectful feeling as he made his way to the front.

Leo watched everyone straighten up, and that was enough to tell him who the man was.

The head coach had arrived.

The man stopped in front of the projector’s white canvas and turned to face them.

"Buon pomeriggio, ragazzi," he began, voice steady but clear.

"My name, as most of you already know, is Coach Enrico Baldini."

A few murmured sì, mister replies rolled through the room.

He nodded.

"Good. I can see some familiar faces... and a few new ones."

His eyes scanned the rows slowly, stopping for a split second on Leo before moving on.

"I hope Marco has used you all well while I was away," Baldini continued, turning slightly toward the assistant.

A half-hearted "sì..." came from the players, that Baldini know that Marco had probably worked them into the ground.

Baldini’s lips twitched upward faintly.

"That didn’t sound convincing," he said, folding his arms.

"Anyway. Our first match of this camp is in four days. That’s not much time, so from tomorrow onwards, things will get serious."

The players stayed quiet, listening.

"I expect the highest level of professionalism from every single one of you," he went on.

"Nobody here has a guaranteed place in the starting lineup. I don’t care if you played every minute of the last camp; everyone starts from zero every day."

His finger lifted, gesturing toward Carlo first.

"Even you, Mancini."

Carlo sat up straighter, expression caught between a nod and a smirk.

"And you, Ricci."

A moment after that name came, the room broke into laughter, a few players nudging each other.

Ricci groaned dramatically, shaking his head as if he already knew why his mates were showing such reactions.

Baldini’s brows furrowed slightly. "Something funny, Ricci?"

Ricci tried to wave it off, still grinning. "No, mister."

Baldini glanced toward Marco, looking for an explanation.

Marco just raised both palms and shook his head innocently, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He knew exactly what that laughter was about, Ricci getting turned inside out by Leo in the 9v9 the other day, but he wasn’t about to explain that in front of everyone again since they had all seen it.

Baldini sighed quietly.

"Alright. Whatever it is, I’ll find out soon enough."

He clasped his hands together and took a short step back.

"For now, I’ll let the normal arrangements continue. Marco will run the next few sessions as planned. I just got in, and I want to observe before making changes."

He gave the room one last sweeping look.

"Enjoy what’s left of your free time today," he said. "Because tomorrow, gentlemen, vacation is over."

The tone wasn’t threatening, but it was enough to make half the players exchange uneasy looks.

With that, Baldini gave Marco a short nod.

Marco returned it before stepping aside to let him leave.

The door opened and closed behind them, and the moment it did, the tension in the room dropped.

A few players immediately leaned toward each other, whispering, already joking again.

Carlo stretched his legs out with a groan, while from the back, Leo quietly flipped his notebook shut, glancing toward the front where Marco had disappeared.

Then, with a soft sigh, he leaned back in his chair, letting the faint chatter of the others fill the room as the session wrapped up.

....

Leo stood by his bed, staring at Carlo like he’d just spoken another language.

"Wait—what?" he said, his brows pulling together.

Carlo, halfway through changing out of his tracksuit, paused just long enough to throw Leo a quick glance before tugging on his T-shirt.

"I said I’m going out to meet her," he repeated casually, as if he’d only said he was heading to the lobby for water.

Leo blinked.

"You’re going to meet who?"

"The girl we talked about," Carlo said, pointing at himself with his thumb.

Leo looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"You’re not making sense," he said finally.

"Dinner’s in, like, ten minutes. They’ll notice you’re not there. Someone’s going to be asked to come look for you, probably me, and when they or I don’t find you, it’s going to be a problem."

Carlo zipped up his jacket and turned toward Leo, his tone suddenly serious.

"Don’t worry. I told Marco. I asked for permission."

That made Leo pause. "You asked Marco?"

Carlo nodded, shrugging on a light denim jacket. "Of course. You think I’m stupid? I’m not sneaking out. I just said I needed some air, and he said Fine, as long as I didn’t do anything stupid."

He slipped into his sneakers, then turned back toward Leo, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why aren’t you getting dressed?"

Leo frowned. "What am I supposed to be dressing for?"

Carlo opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, there was a rapid knocking on the door, three, maybe four short thuds.

He turned toward it and looked through the peephole.

"Ah," he muttered under his breath before unlocking the door.

Standing in the hallway were Fornella, Ricci, Udogie, and Ruggeri, all wearing casual clothes and the kind of smirks that suggested mischief.

"Carlo, sei pronto?(You ready?)" Udogie asked, his voice carrying the lazy drawl of someone who already knew the answer.

"Yeah, yeah, just finishing," Carlo said in Italian, nodding.

"I’m waiting for Leo."

That made all four of them turn toward the brown-haired boy standing stiffly beside the bed.

Fornella raised a brow while Ricci’s grin widened instantly.

Leo shook his head before anyone could speak.

"I’m not going."

"Eh?" Carlo turned to him. "Come on, you can’t do that."

"Watch me," Leo said, folding his arms.

Carlo sighed, stepping closer.

"You’re the one who told me to sort this out, remember? You said I should get closure or... or whatever."

"Yeah, but I didn’t say I had to be part of it," Leo replied.

Carlo gestured at him in frustration.

"You can’t coach without being on the sidelines or on the pitch, Leo. You started this, now you have to finish it with me."

Leo opened his mouth to argue, but then paused.

The analogy was oddly fitting.

He hated that it made sense.

Still, he shook his head. "No."

Carlo exhaled through his nose, muttering something in Italian before stepping forward again, his voice softer this time.

"Come on, think of it as a favour. One favour. That’s all."

Leo hesitated, eyes darting to the doorway where the others were still loitering.

Udogie had crossed his arms, Ricci was grinning like an idiot, and Fornella looked mildly entertained.

"You’ve already got your entourage," Leo said dryly, nodding toward them.

"You don’t need me."

Udogie, who saw Leo nodding towards them but didn’t get what he said, frowned.

"Ci ha appena insultati?(Did he just insult us?)"

Ricci burst out laughing.

"He probably said you want to play in the Premier League but can’t understand basic English."

Udogie turned to him, scowling in rapid Italian.

"What did you just say?"

Carlo, chuckling a bit, ignored the banter, refocusing on Leo.

"Please, man. You know it’s now or never. Tomorrow, training starts for real. After that, I won’t get another chance."

Leo frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re sure Marco won’t care?"

"I’m sure," Carlo said, nodding. "He told me himself. I’m good until lights out."

Leo sighed and looked at Carlo’s hopeful expression, then at the others waiting in the doorway.

"Give me a few minutes," he said quietly.

Carlo’s face lit up immediately, his grin breaking wide.

"Grazie, fratello. Just five minutes, okay? We’ll wait downstairs."

He gave Leo a light slap on the shoulder before ushering the others out, Ricci still laughing about Udogie’s comment.

As the door closed behind them, Leo stood there for a moment, staring at it, then at his bed, shaking his head in disbelief.

He muttered something under his breath, grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe, and sighed again, because somehow, against his better judgment, Carlo had gotten him to say yes.