Catching Up in The Inn

The village inn stood on the edge of Serewyn's border, its wooden beams worn by time but still standing firm against the harsh conditions. Lanterns hung at uneven intervals, casting warm, flickering light across the cobblestone path leading up to the entrance. Mikhailis, wincing with each step, led the group toward the modest building. His bandaged body moved with deliberate caution, the dull ache of his injuries acting as an ever-present reminder of their journey so far.

"Your Highness, you're limping again," Lira said, her voice laced with a mixture of exasperation and concern. She walked close behind him, her hands ready to steady him at any moment.

Mikhailis turned his head slightly, giving her a weak grin.

"I thought limping made me look distinguished. Like a war hero. Don't you think so?"

Lira's gaze was sharp, unimpressed.

"You look like someone who just lost a wrestling match with gravity and decided to crawl into an inn for round two."