First stop in the village of Nossa Gile

"Here we are, the Nossa Gile Village," Orin says, his tone steady as he steps into the village ahead of us. Nostalgia lingers on his face, softening his expression.

"Finally…" Ronan mutters, his pace quickening slightly. A faint grin tugs at his lips—one softer than his usual. "I hope she still works here… Junia… Ohhh, I miss her."

Finally. We're here. How long have we been walking? The entire day? The sun's already dipping below the trees… Yeah, we'll take a few days to rest now. Maybe a week. Yeah, a week sounds good.

"Ugh… Finally…" Sela groans from behind, practically dragging her feet. "I don't think I can take one more step… Someone just carry me already…"

She's been whining for what feels like half the trip now. Not that I can blame her—I guess I'm not the only one who feels like collapsing after today's trek. "I feel you, Sela…" I mutter under my breath, barely able to lift my head. "Walking like this for one more day would kill me…"

"Yeah, I'd be glad to carry you, but someone doesn't let me…" Ronan sighs, glancing over his shoulder with what looks like regret.

"I get why you wouldn't want Ronan to carry you, but me? What did I do…?" Farren chimes in, casting a tired look back at Althea.

"Yeah, Althea? What did he do?" Sela asks, her exhausted gaze shifting toward her.

"They're men." Althea's response is curt, her voice carrying an edge. "I guess Farren doesn't even have the brain to act like a perv, but still. And no, I can't use magic to carry you, nor can I carry you myself."

"Hey, just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I act like he does…" Farren grumbles, nodding toward Ronan.

Ronan glances back at Farren, raising an eyebrow. "Disappointing."

"Sure, but you know I don't care. Please! Next time we walk like this again, someone will carry me, and Althea—you can't do anything to stop that. Hmph." Sela pouts, frustration slipping through after a long, grueling day. "Farren or Ronan, one of you is carrying me next time, alright?! I'm not walking like this again. Please." Her usual sweet tone takes on an uncharacteristic edge—not angry, just stubborn. Or maybe it's just exhaustion. Or laziness. Probably both.

"Yes! Sela, I'll gladly carry you next time. You have my word, Miss." Ronan grins slyly, stepping closer as if already imagining himself the knight in shining armor.

Althea lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Great."

Farren, on the other hand, doesn't even bother chiming in, simply turning his gaze back toward the village up ahead.

"Thank you, Ronan! I knew I could count on you!" Sela responds with a lighter, more playful tone. Still, the way she's practically dragging herself forward takes away any illusion of real energy.

Ronan just chuckles, leaving it at that with an amused smile before turning back to face the road.

As we step into the village, the scent of food cooking drifts in the evening air. Smoke curls lazily above the simple rooftops of the small houses. There's a cozy warmth to the place, a sense of calm and relaxation that seems to permeate everything. It's smaller than the last village—quieter, too. Hardly anyone seems to be outside. Maybe everyone's inside having dinner at this hour?

As I push the inn's door open, a wave of warmth rushes over me, blanketing the chill clinging to my body. Stepping inside feels like stepping into heaven itself after the long, grueling journey. Sela and I waste no time—both of us practically collapse into the nearest chairs, sinking into them as though our lives depend on it. She looks just as close to death as I feel.

I shrug off my coat, draping it over the back of the chair beside me, eager to feel the radiant warmth of the fire burning in the hearth. Sela, equally desperate, scoots her chair closer to the flames, stretching her hands out as though trying to soak in every ounce of heat.

The inn itself is modest, with a quaint charm. A few wooden tables and chairs are scattered around the room, their surfaces nicked and scratched with years of use. In the far corner, two men sit at one such table, their voices a low murmur as they chat over drinks. Their conversation seems casual—gestures accompanied by laughter here and there, though occasionally punctuated by the heavy sighs of life's hardships. The flickering firelight casts their shadows on the walls, their movements rhythmic and relaxed. Friends, no doubt, enjoying a good evening together.

"Thanks," Orin says to the innkeeper as he steps away from the counter, his voice low and steady. A faint sigh escapes him, and his shoulders sag just slightly as he glances over at us.

"And there it goes… We're officially out of money." His tone is calm, but the weariness in it is hard to miss. "Tomorrow, we'll need to spend the day doing some quests to scrape together what we need before moving on. Getting a ride to the next destination isn't free." He pauses, his eyes flicking to the fire as though seeking some comfort in its glow.

"So, let's just get some good sleep tonight," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll get up early tomorrow and get to work."

"Ugh… I'm hitting the bed," Ronan groans, dragging himself toward the stairs that lead to the rooms above. Halfway up, he glances back with a sly grin. "By the way, Althea, you wanna sleep together? Come on."

"Shut—up…" she snaps, her exhaustion bleeding into her tone.

"Aw, don't be so boring," Ronan teases, chuckling softly as he continues climbing, not even waiting for a proper reply. He knows the answer—he always knows the answer—and yet he still asks every time.

Althea sighs deeply, muttering something under her breath before stepping closer to the hearth and lowering herself into a chair near the flames.

Is Ronan ever going to learn that Althea doesn't want to sleep with him? I think I've heard him ask that same question three or four times, and I've only been with this group for about a week. Honestly, I don't know who I should feel sorry for: Althea, who has to keep rejecting him, or Ronan, who keeps getting shot down.

"I think I'm going to bed as well. Good night," Farren says suddenly, breaking the silence. He raises a hand in a lazy wave before heading toward the stairs himself. A long yawn escapes him, his steps slow and heavy as he disappears from view, leaving only the faint creak of the wooden stairs behind.

Orin seats himself beside me, stretching his legs as he leans into the warmth of the hearth. His expression softens, the strain of the day starting to melt away in the fire's glow. He stays quiet, likely trying to empty his mind after hours of straight walking. I can't help but wonder how often they do this as adventurers—walking endlessly, sleeping wherever they can find a spot.

From the other side of the hearth, Sela shifts slightly and glances up at Althea, who's just lowered herself into a chair behind her. "Hey, Althea," Sela starts, her tone light but curious, "why does Ronan always ask you to sleep with him? Huh? What's so special about you?"

Althea exhales sharply through her nose, clearly uninterested in the topic. "Don't know, don't care," she mutters, resting her chin on her hand.

Sela frowns, then narrows her eyes in mock suspicion. "I bet it's because of these…" she says, puffing her chest slightly for emphasis. She places her hands beneath it, as though testing the nonexistent weight, only to huff in frustration when the action falls flat—literally. "That greedy bastard…"

A small chuckle escapes me before I can stop it, and even Orin cracks a faint smile, though he doesn't say a word.

"Why do you even care, Sela?" Althea finally says, her voice tinged with tired annoyance.

Sela shrugs, leaning closer to the fire, the glow highlighting the playful smirk tugging at her lips. "I don't care. I just think it's unfair, that's all. At least he could spread the attention around a little…" She pouts slightly, her tone as carefree as ever, her energy bubbling back to the surface like it always does.

"Hey, maybe I should just tell him to ask me next time," she continues, grinning mischievously. "Yeah, that could work. Heh-heh-heh…" Her eyes light up for a moment before she shakes her head, waving the thought away. "Actually, never mind. If I know him right, I probably wouldn't get any sleep… But hey—what if I was the boss? Yeah!" She chuckles to herself, the idea clearly amusing her far more than it should.

Her laughter echoes softly in the warm, quiet room. Whatever she's imagining, it's probably ridiculous, but that's Sela for you—always speaking her mind without a second thought. At least she is back to the Sela we know…

"Sela, just… no. Please, just no." Althea replies flatly, shaking her head as if trying to dismiss the thought entirely. Her tone is firm, yet she doesn't seem willing to waste much energy on the conversation.

"Why not, though? I kind of agree with Ronan on this—you shouldn't be so boring about this kind of stuff…" Sela says casually, turning her attention back to the fire. "Heh, whatever…" she adds with a shrug, sinking back into a comfortable position. A small smile spreads across her face, as if amused by the fire's warmth.

Althea lets out a long sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth of the fire. The conversation fades away as the crackling of the hearth fills the silence.

I sit back, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally lift as the warmth from the fire settles into my bones. It's a small comfort, but right now, it's enough.