A Date

The next morning came slowly, with the kind of warmth only quiet victories bring. Sunlight filtered through the stone windows of the Elandra Guild dormitory, casting long stripes across the floor where a pair of boots sat—muddy, worn, and finally unmoving.

Inigo stirred in his bed, blinking against the golden light as he sat up. For once, his muscles didn't ache from battle, and the air didn't carry the tension of an impending mission. It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of morning most adventurers forgot could exist.

He stood, stretched, and grabbed a shirt off the back of a chair. His jacket hung nearby, but today, he left it behind. No armor either—just a simple white tunic and dark pants. Civilian clothes. A rare treat.