After a rigorous two-hour training session, Tristan sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his face. He felt exhausted yet unburdened, as if the weight he had been carrying in his chest had dissolved along with his perspiration.

“Are you finished?” Oswald’s voice emerged from the edge of the garden, announcing his presence. Observing Tristan, he raised an eyebrow. “You seem more at ease now. Did you have a talk with your father?”

“I did,” Tristan replied, allowing a smile to form. “He shared one of his stories, as he often does when I’m troubled.”

“You're fortunate,” Oswald shrugged. “If I approached my father with my concerns, he'd probably just laugh me out of the room.”

Unsure how to respond, Tristan chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Anyway, let's change the subject,” Oswald suggested. “How about we head to the city center? Some relaxation would be welcome after this week's relentless battles.”

“Sure, that sounds like a great idea,” Tristan agreed with a nod.

Thus, the two of them exited the inner citadel and ventured into the main city. Strolling through a park, Oswald pointed to a purple flower near a tree. “See that flower? It's known for its medicinal properties. But I've heard that if you use it in cooking, it tastes amazing.”

“Really?” Tristan raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Oswald’s claim. “Has anyone actually tried that?”

"Yes, indeed, someone was adventurous enough to try it," Oswald chuckled. "Jasmine learned about it and now incorporates it into her dishes at her restaurant. Her meat pies, in particular, are a hit."

"Ah, that's right, Jasmine did open her own place," Tristan nodded, recalling the establishment. "I wonder how it's faring."

"It's incredibly popular, especially among the knights who flock there after their shifts," Oswald informed him. "So, how about it? Fancy a visit?"

"That sounds good," Tristan replied, his brow furrowing slightly. "But shouldn't we have made a reservation?"

"No worries, I've got us covered," Oswald laughed. "I thought you might need a change of scenery, so I went ahead and booked a table."

Appreciating his friend's foresight, Tristan smiled. "Thanks, that's very thoughtful of you."

"Don’t mention it," Oswald dismissed with a wave of his hand.

The two navigated their way through the bustling city streets, eventually arriving at a building just a couple of blocks from the main plaza. The restaurant was bustling, filled mostly with knights and guards, and a few affluent merchants. Servers bustled between tables, their hands laden with plates of food.

Upon entering, Tristan looked around in admiration. Jasmine, the owner, promptly noticed their arrival and approached them.

"Your Grace, you're most welcome here," she greeted with a modest bow. She then gestured towards the staircase. "I've reserved a special table for you on the upper floor, if you'll follow me."

"Come on, Jasmine, no need for formalities with us," Tristan said with an easy smile as he and Oswald followed her upstairs.

Jasmine chuckled softly as they ascended the stairs. “Your Grace, I must still respect your title. Besides, this is a public establishment, and appearances matter.”

Tristan understood her perspective and shrugged lightly. “Personally, I don't mind either way.”

Reaching the upper floor, they were greeted by a markedly different ambiance. The lower level exuded a high quality and a welcoming atmosphere, but the upper floor was steeped in luxury. The carpet, a rich blend of red and brown, was of exquisite quality. The clientele here was distinctly upscale - a mix of high-ranking knights, generals, and predominantly nobles.

“Your Grace, please, this way,” Jasmine led them to a table adjacent to the main window. She smiled as they settled in. “I thought you might appreciate the view from here.”

Oswald couldn’t help but express his awe as he took his seat, immediately drawn to the panoramic cityscape visible from the window. “We can see almost the entire city from here!”

The city, rejuvenated after the full activation of its fortification system, stretched out before them. From their vantage point, Tristan could see the lush parks and the array of houses that comprised the cityscape. However, his gaze was primarily captivated by the four great statues that stood towering in the distance, their imposing figures dominating the skyline.

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As Tristan took his seat, Jasmine redirected their attention. “I assume you've heard about our famous meat pies. Would you like me to order them for you? It's on the house, of course.”

Tristan responded with a light protest. “Jasmine, I am the eldest child of Ravenwood. I can afford my own meal.”

Jasmine, however, was adamant. “Please, consider this a token of my gratitude,” she insisted. “Your Grace has granted me a seat on the council and the first rights to bid on this restaurant. I would feel dishonored if I allowed you to pay.”

Finding it improper to push any further, Tristan relented with a sigh. “Alright then, thank you.”

With Jasmine departing to place their order, Tristan and Oswald were left to converse in privacy.

Gazing out the window, Oswald reflected, “This view really puts our efforts for the city into perspective. Our battles are what allow us to enjoy this peace.”

Tristan nodded in agreement, adding, “It's not just our efforts, but everyone's. Yet, you’re right. Without our defense, this peace wouldn’t be possible. We must continue to grow stronger to safeguard it.”

Oswald chuckled softly, then turned to Tristan with a thoughtful expression. “Speaking of strength, have you heard any updates about those dungeons?”

“The ones mentioned in the quests? No, I haven’t heard anything new,” Tristan replied, shaking his head.

“I had a word with the old man receptionist in the main hall,” Oswald shared, stroking his chin. “From what he said, I believe the dungeons might be located in the forest.”

Tristan’s expression turned serious. “That could be problematic. If they’re near the outskirts, it’s manageable. But if they're deep within the forest, we risk encountering that red-furred beast and his formidable army.”

Oswald shuddered at the thought. “That would be catastrophic. Even the weakest of his minions is stronger than our mightiest warrior. Facing him would mean certain doom.”

A momentary hush enveloped them, broken only when Tristan let out a light chuckle. "I don't think he'll attack us without provocation."

Oswald looked at him curiously. "What makes you say that?"

"He had the chance to kill us during our last encounter, yet he chose not to," Tristan explained with a shrug. "And from our brief conversation, he didn’t strike me as someone who kills without reason. In an ideal world, coexisting with him would be a dream come true."

“Well, I cannot argue with that last part. It is definitely a dream,” Oswald laughed at the thought. "Coexisting with a monster? Now that's a fantasy too wild to even consider."

"But what's our alternative?" Tristan asked, his tone growing more earnest. "Do you honestly think we stand a chance against them in combat?"

Oswald faltered, struggling for a response. "Well, defeating them seems unlikely. But this idea of coexistence hinges not on our willingness, but on his. We know so little about him, his motives, or his ambitions."

"We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it," Tristan said with a chuckle. "For now, just knowing that we can communicate and that he's open to negotiations is a positive sign."

"You're an eternal optimist," sighed Oswald.

At that moment, Jasmine returned with a servant carrying their plates. She set Tristan's meat pie before him, and its aroma instantly tantalized his senses. The robust scent of spices blended harmoniously with the gentle aroma of baked wheat.

"It smells delicious," Tristan remarked appreciatively.

Jasmine responded with a light chuckle. "I assure you, it tastes even better than it smells." She gestured towards the plate. "Enjoy your meal. I'll bring some refreshments for you shortly."

As Tristan savored the first bite, an intriguing blend of flavors cascaded over his palate. The meat was infused with a delicate sweetness and mellowness that balanced perfectly with the spice.

That must be the effect of the purple flower, Tristan thought, smiling at the culinary discovery.

The evening unfolded pleasantly as they dined, sipped wine, and engaged in light-hearted conversation. For what seemed like the first time in an age, Tristan felt the weight of his responsibilities lift, allowing him a rare moment of carefree enjoyment, free from thoughts of impending battles.

As they finished their meal and exited the restaurant, they were greeted by the night sky, adorned with two luminous moons.

“They look magnificent,” Tristan remarked, admiring the celestial spectacle.

“They certainly do,” agreed Oswald, clapping Tristan on the shoulder. “Now, I must take my leave now. There's a matter I need to attend to before heading home.”

“Stay safe,” Tristan nodded in parting.

The two went their separate ways, and as Tristan walked back towards the inner citadel, a slight buzz hummed in his head from the wine. In pre-apocalyptic times, such an amount would have likely rendered him unconscious, but now, whether due to his enhanced attributes or some other providence, he only felt mildly intoxicated.

Approaching his mansion, however, even in his slightly inebriated state, Tristan sensed something amiss. Servants scurried about with expressions of panic, and as the white noise in his head cleared, he picked up on the urgent calls echoing around him, indicating some sort of crisis or emergency at hand.

Sensing that something dire had occurred, Tristan quickly sobered up and intercepted a frantic servant darting past. “What's the commotion? Explain yourself,” he demanded.

The servant's face blanched to a ghostly pale upon seeing Tristan. Stammering, he managed a feeble, “Your... Your Grace,” but words seemed to desert him.

Tristan, increasingly alarmed by the servant's demeanor, pressed for details. “Speak up. What has transpired? I must know.”

Swallowing hard, the servant nodded, gathering his wits. “Your Grace, as you might already be aware, your father was set to lead an expedition this afternoon,” he began, pausing to catch his breath, his expression etched with terror. “However, he never appeared. We went to look for him at his study, but he was not there. We have been searching for him for hours, looking through every corner, but we couldn’t find him. It’s as if he has disappeared into thin air.”