The streets of Galmora were alive with celebration as Arlan and the Banner of the Claw returned in triumph. The sounds of cheers and the bright colors of waving banners filled the air, a stark contrast to the tense and war-weary journeys of the past. Townsfolk gathered along the cobblestone roads, tossing flower petals and shouting their gratitude as Arlan and his strike team rode at the forefront of the procession.

Arlan, astride Kage, his dark and majestic Stygian warhorse, maintained a calm yet gracious demeanor, nodding to those who called his name. The massive beast moved with an almost predatory grace, its black coat shimmering faintly under the sunlight.

Marie rode alongside him, her crimson cloak billowing slightly in the breeze, while Emmeline followed, her serene expression reflecting the joy of the moment. Behind them marched the Banner of the Claw, their gleaming armor and polished weapons a testament to their readiness even after hard-fought battles.

Alya darted from the crowd, her golden curls bouncing as she approached Arlan with a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers. Arlan dismounted with ease, kneeling to accept the gift. “For you, General,” Alya said brightly, her smile infectious.

Arlan chuckled softly, taking the flowers with a bow. “Thank you, Alya. These will brighten my office.”

“Brighten his office?” Savage said with a smirk as he strode closer. “Didn’t know the Immortal General had a soft spot for flowers.”

Frej rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. Alya’s flowers are lovely. Better than that dust-covered pile you call a collection, Savage.”

“It’s not dust-covered,” Savage protested, crossing his arms. “It’s weathered. A sign of use.”

Lucius adjusted his spectacles, glancing between the two with mild amusement. “I’m sure we’ll all find time to critique Savage’s belongings another day.”

Nearby, Yanie greeted Renia with a warm hug. “You must be thrilled. Wren’s a lucky man.”

Renia smiled, glancing toward Wren. “I think I’m the lucky one. He’s been working on something special for the wedding… but he won’t say what.”

Wren, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise for a reason.”

Marie leaned in with a teasing grin. “I’ll make sure it’s nothing less than perfect. Renia deserves it.”

“And I expect to see you all there,” Renia added, her gaze sweeping over the gathered strike team.

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” JD said, slapping Jovann on the shoulder. “We’ll be front and center.”

“I’m not sure ‘front and center’ is the right place for us,” Jovann muttered, but the faint smile on his face betrayed his approval.

Akasha stood at the edge of the group, watching the exchange with a faint smirk. “Mortals and their ceremonies. So much effort for fleeting moments.”

Marie shot her a sharp look. “You’re coming, Akasha. Don’t even think about hiding away.”

“As you command,” Akasha said with a small bow, though her tone carried a trace of amusement.

Emmeline’s voice cut gently through the noise. “Let’s not overwhelm them all at once. But yes, we’ll all be there.”

Niren stepped forward, his expression serene. “A union is a sacred thing. It’s fitting that we celebrate it after all we’ve endured.”

Jocko clapped his large hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, enough chatter. Let’s get everyone settled and start preparing for the big day. I’ll need to practice my speeches.”

“Practice?” Dimitri said, arching an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t already have one memorized?”

“Oh, I do,” Jocko said with a grin. “But it’s so good, I’ll probably add more.”

The group broke into laughter, the warmth of camaraderie easing the lingering tension from the past weeks. Arlan glanced at them, a rare smile gracing his features. For a moment, the weight of the future lifted, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by his closest allies.

Later that evening, the core members of Arlan’s retinue gathered in the study of the Reeve estate. The room was warm and inviting, lined with shelves of books and illuminated by the soft glow of oil lamps. Arlan stood at the head of the table, flanked by Emmeline and Marie, while Jocko, Wren, Jin, Yanie, Chrysta, and JD filled the other seats.

“We have much to discuss. The next few weeks will be critical for Galmora and for our plans in the Firane Kingdom,” Arlan said.

“The wall facing the Wild Frontier is progressing, but the craftsmen will need reinforcement. Wren, I assume you’ll oversee the next phase?” Jocko asked.

“Once the wedding is done, I’ll direct the effort personally. We can’t afford delays with the reports Duke Louis shared about the northeastern incursions,” Wren replied.

“And how long do you think it will take to finish this phase?” Marie chimed in. “If we’re leaving for Firane in three weeks, we’ll need things secure here.”

“With the right coordination and enough hands, it can be done. I’ll oversee the supply chains and labor schedules,” Chrysta said.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Jocko grinned, “I’ll be officiating. Don’t expect me to go easy on the speeches.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Jocko,” Renia laughed softly.

Arlan turned his attention to Yanie. “Have you decided?”

“I have. I’ll accept the role of Firane’s queen. But only if my uncle agrees to serve as my High Minister,” Yanie said, her tone steady.

“You’ve always been good at maneuvering me into corners, Yanie. Very well, I’ll resign as Midland’s Royal Court Mage and stand by your side in Firane,” Jin replied, a small smile on his lips.

“A queen and her trusted mage. Sounds like a story out of legend,” Savage remarked with a low chuckle.

“Only if it has a happy ending. Otherwise, it’s just another tragedy,” Frej said with a smirk.

“Then it’s settled,” Arlan cut in. “We leave for Firane in three weeks. It will take another three weeks of travel to reach Syllabell, but our preparations must be flawless. This isn’t just about a rightful heir reclaiming the throne—it’s about restoring stability to an entire kingdom.”

Arlan’s expression darkened slightly as he continued, “We’ll need more than diplomacy to achieve this. Our main plan will be to rally the noble houses of Firane. We’ll use Yanie’s lineage, backed by Midland’s support, as our foundation. If needed, we won’t hesitate to employ blackmail, subterfuge, or underhanded political tactics.”

“Blackmail?” JD asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a slippery slope, Arlan.”

“It’s a slippery slope we’re prepared to navigate,” Arlan said. “Nightingale and the Umbras will work behind the scenes, gathering information and leveraging it to weaken Alveri’s support in the Firane Court. Every weakness we can exploit, every advantage we can gain—we’ll take it.”

Yanie looked uneasy but resolute. “I don’t like the idea of underhanded tactics, but if it’s what it takes to save Firane from Alveri’s rule, then I’ll do what must be done.”

“It’s not an easy path,” Emmeline said gently. “But sometimes, the ends justify the means. Yanie, you’re fighting for the future of your kingdom.”

“And we’re here to make sure you win,” Savage added. “If a little political maneuvering is what it takes, then so be it.”

“The nobles will fall in line if we show them strength and promise a stable future,” Lucius noted. “It’s not about deception alone. It’s about creating an undeniable path forward.”

Chrysta nodded. “We’ll need to carefully select which nobles to approach and in what order. A few key alliances could turn the tide without much resistance.”

“Exactly,” Arlan said. “This isn’t a game for honor; it’s a battle for the future. If subterfuge and politics secure Firane with fewer lives lost, then that’s the route we take.”

“And we must prepare for the possibility that diplomacy fails,” Arlan said firmly. “If Queen Alveri refuses to relinquish the throne peacefully, we will need to take it by force. That means bloodshed, and it won’t be a decision made lightly.”

A tense silence followed his words.

“I understand, Arlan. I’ll do everything in my power to avoid that outcome, but if it comes to it, I’m prepared,” Yanie finally said.

“It’s best to have a plan for every scenario,” Jocko said. “If we’re forced to take the throne by force, we’ll need to act swiftly to minimize casualties and secure control of the capital.”

“The Banner of the Claw will be ready. We’ll hit hard and fast if it comes to that,” JD added.

“Still, we should exhaust every diplomatic option first,” Emmeline said with a sigh. “Firane has suffered enough, and a civil war would only deepen the wounds.”

“In any case, the plan must account for Firane’s geography and political climate. The nobility will side with whoever appears strongest. Diplomacy backed by strength will carry more weight,” Lucius noted.

“Agreed. Diplomacy remains our priority, but the safety of Yanie’s claim and the kingdom comes first. Now, Wren, about the greatsword you promised,” Arlan said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned toward Wren.

Wren nodded, his eyes lighting up with determination. “Aye, I'm ready to create a masterpiece that will rival even the legendary artifacts that heroes wielded in the stories. With these adamantite ingots, I’ll craft you a greatsword unlike any other.”

“And now we have the materials,” Arlan said. “The adamantite ingots from Duke Frank Lansley will be your foundation. This weapon will need to be worthy of the challenges ahead.”

“It will be,” Wren said firmly. “But crafting something of this caliber will take everything I’ve got. I’ll need help.”

“Marie, Chrysta, I’d like the two of you to assist Wren. Your fire and ice magic will help shape the adamantite and fold it multiple times to achieve the perfect balance,” Arlan said.

“Sounds like fun. I’ll make sure it’s forged perfectly,” Marie grinned.

“With the right coordination, we can create something truly extraordinary,” Chrysta added, her tone thoughtful.

“Lucius, I’ll need you to work with Wren to incorporate the [Disk of Absolution] into the weapon. Its power will be critical,” Arlan continued.

“A delicate process, but not impossible. I’ll ensure the disk’s energy is stabilized,” Lucius said, adjusting his glasses.

“I’ll also need perfect-grade solvents to enchant the blade with the most powerful runes,” Wren said.

“Jovann was already ahead of you. He purchased more than enough before we arrived in Galmora,” Arlan replied with a smirk.

“Then I have no excuses. I’ll start preparations after the wedding,” Wren said with a chuckle.

The meeting continued with detailed discussions of logistics, assignments, and contingencies. As it drew to a close, the weight of their plans hung heavy in the air. Each member departed with a renewed sense of purpose, knowing the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but united in their resolve to face them together. But in two days, they would celebrate a lovely union of two of their friends.

Two days later, the bright spring day seemed to bless the occasion with perfect weather. Sunlight spilled over the gardens of the Reeve estate, painting the world in golden hues. The air was filled with the hum of anticipation, mingled with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers.

Rows of elegantly carved chairs lined the aisle, which was covered in petals of lavender and white. At the far end stood a grand floral arch, adorned with roses and ivy intertwined with shimmering silver ribbons.

Alya, dressed in a pale blue gown, darted between the chairs, her hands tightly clutching a basket of flower petals. Her enthusiasm drew amused glances and soft laughter from the gathering crowd. “Are they ready yet?” she asked anyone who would listen, her excitement infectious.

The guests began taking their seats, the assembly a mix of familiar faces and allies. Arlan stood near the front, his imposing presence softened by a rare expression of contentment. Beside him, Marie adjusted the folds of her crimson cloak while Emmeline offered a serene smile to passing attendees. Lucius, with his ever-curious gaze, observed the arrangements as though they were a puzzle to be solved. Frej, Savage, JD, and Chrysta exchanged banter, their camaraderie evident even in this peaceful moment.

“Where’s Wren?” Savage asked, his arms crossed. “Doesn’t seem like him to keep people waiting.”

“Patience, Savage,” Frej replied with a smirk. “It’s his wedding day, not a battle drill.”

The music began to swell, a gentle melody played by a small ensemble. Alya took her place at the start of the aisle, her basket now overflowing with petals. With exaggerated care, she began scattering them along the path, her serious expression drawing chuckles from the crowd.

As the music shifted, Renia appeared at the entrance, her arm looped through Arlan’s. She wore a lavender gown that shimmered subtly in the sunlight, her auburn hair crowned with a delicate silver circlet. Her emerald eyes glistened with emotion as she took in the scene before her.

“You look radiant,” Arlan said quietly, offering her a small smile.

Renia’s voice wavered slightly. “Thank you, Arlan. For everything.”

The two walked down the aisle, the crowd rising in respect. When they reached the floral arch, Arlan gently placed Renia’s hand in Wren’s, stepping back to join the others. Wren, clad in a finely tailored coat with silver embroidery, gazed at Renia with unwavering admiration.

Standing beneath the arch was Jocko, dressed in ceremonial robes befitting his role as Galmora’s Head Minister. His broad shoulders and commanding presence added weight to the occasion, though his usual jovial smile softened the formality.

“Friends and family,” Jocko began, his deep voice carrying across the gathering, “we are here to witness the union of two remarkable souls. In times like these, it is love and commitment that remind us of what we fight for, of what truly matters.”

As the ceremony progressed, Wren and Renia exchanged vows, their words filled with heartfelt promises. Renia’s voice trembled but carried a steady determination. “Wren, you’ve given me a sense of safety and belonging I never thought I’d find again. I promise to stand by you, through every storm and every spring, for as long as we both shall live.”

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Wren’s response was equally poignant. “Renia, you’ve shown me a world beyond the forge, a world I want to spend every moment with you in. I vow to protect you, cherish you, and honor you, just as you’ve honored me with your love. And I vow to care and protect your sister, Alya, as my own.”

As Jocko prepared to conclude, Wren stepped back slightly and gestured toward Lem, who handed him a small, intricately carved box. Wren opened it to reveal a necklace crafted from mithril, its delicate chain adorned with a pendant shaped like a blooming lily. The design was unmistakably reminiscent of the necklace Renia’s late mother had worn.

“This,” Wren said, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “is a piece of my heart, forged with my hands. It’s meant to honor the woman who raised you and to celebrate the woman you’ve become.”

Renia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. She accepted the necklace with trembling hands, holding it close before allowing Wren to fasten it around her neck. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you.”

The crowd watched in reverent silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. Jocko’s voice broke through, warm and steady. “By the power vested in me as Head Minister of Galmora, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Wren and Renia’s kiss beneath the arch drew thunderous applause and cheers from the guests. Alya leapt with joy, tossing the last of her petals into the air in celebration.

The newlyweds turned to face the crowd, their hands entwined as they walked back down the aisle together. The warmth of the spring sun mirrored the joy radiating from their union, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

The town square of Galmora had never been more vibrant. Garlands of wildflowers and ribbons in every shade of spring adorned the buildings, and lanterns hung overhead, their soft glow promising to outshine the stars as night fell. Stalls overflowing with fresh fruits, savory pastries, and barrels of mead surrounded the square, manned by smiling townsfolk eager to serve the guests.

A lively band played a mix of traditional Midland tunes and local favorites, their instruments weaving a melody that set feet tapping and hearts racing. The square was packed with attendees—nobles, adventurers, soldiers, and villagers alike—all gathered to celebrate the union of Wren and Renia.

Arlan stood at the edge of the square, taking in the scene with a rare sense of satisfaction. Beside him, Emmeline held a goblet of spiced wine, her smile as serene as ever.

“It’s good to see Galmora like this,” she said, her voice soft but content.

Arlan nodded. “Moments like these remind us what we’re fighting for.”

Marie approached, her crimson cloak catching the light of the lanterns. “Careful, Arlan. Too much sentiment might make people think you’ve gone soft.”

“I’ll take that risk,” Arlan replied with a small smirk.

Savage’s booming laughter cut through the music as he joined them, a plate piled high with roasted meat in his hands. “Soft or not, I’ll say this: no one throws a feast like Galmora. Have you tried the venison yet?”

“Of course,” Arlan said humorously. “I’m the god damn Lord of Galmora.”

“And modest as ever,” Emmeline teased, a playful glint in her eye. “Though I have to admit, he’s right. This feast is incredible.”

Marie gestured toward the dancers in the square. “I’m surprised you’re not out there, Emmeline. Isn’t this your kind of thing?”

“Not without Arlan joining me,” Emmeline replied smoothly. “He’s been avoiding the dance floor all evening.”

“In time, we can go and enjoy ourselves,” Arlan said, his smirk widening.

Nearby, Edgar was showing Alya and Onas how to spin small wooden tops he had carved himself. Alya’s laughter mixed with Onas’s serious concentration as they tried to outspin each other. “Look, Onas! Mine’s still going!” Alya cheered.

Onas frowned slightly, adjusting his hands. “Just wait. I’ll beat yours this time.”

Frej was teaching Yuna a traditional dance from the Duchy of Waldin, their movements fluid and precise. Yuna’s short hair bounced with every step, her laughter ringing out as she stumbled but quickly recovered.

“Come on, Yuna, keep up,” Frej said, grinning. “You’re doing great.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yuna replied between laughs. “You’ve probably been doing this since you could walk.”

“True,” Frej admitted with a wink. “But you’re catching on faster than most.”

Nearby, Chrysta and JD paused to watch, JD holding a half-eaten pastry. “Did you know Frej could dance like that?” JD asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chrysta smirked. “Well we only just met her, but it’s not surprising. The Duchy of Waldin takes their traditions seriously.”

As Yuna misstepped again, nearly colliding with Frej, Savage, standing by with a tankard of ale, called out, “Careful, Frej! Don’t let her take you out!”

Frej turned slightly, his grin widening. “I’ll have you know, Savage, this is called finesse. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Akasha, leaning nearby, chuckled softly. “Mortals and their clumsy attempts at art. Still, it’s amusing.”

“Hey!” Yuna retorted, recovering from her stumble. “I’m getting the hang of it. Watch this.”

She spun quickly, nearly losing her balance, but Frej caught her arm and steadied her. “Not bad,” Frej said. “But maybe leave the showmanship for later.”

“Showmanship is half the fun,” Yuna quipped, her cheeks flushed but her smile determined.

The crowd watching erupted into light applause as Yuna completed the next sequence without a hitch, her confidence clearly growing.

Elsewhere, JD and Jovann stood at a stall laden with pastries, debating which to try next.

“The berry tart looks good,” JD said, pointing at the delicate, sugar-dusted confection.

“But the honey cakes are a local specialty,” Jovann countered, his eyes scanning the neatly stacked golden squares. “We’ve got to try those first.”

JD tilted his head, pretending to deliberate. “Or,” he said, a mischievous grin forming, “we get both and decide which is better.”

Jovann rolled his eyes. “You’re just trying to justify overeating. But fine, let’s do it your way.”

The vendor, a cheerful older woman, chuckled as she handed over the treats. “Good choice, boys. These honey cakes have been in my family’s recipe book for three generations. But don’t underestimate the berry tarts—they’ve won the town fair two years in a row.”

“Now you’ve made this a challenge,” JD said, taking a bite of the tart. His eyes widened. “Okay, that’s fantastic. The berry filling is so fresh it’s like they just picked it this morning.”

Jovann bit into the honey cake, his expression contemplative. “The honey is incredible. Sweet, but with this earthy richness. You’ve got to try it.”

They exchanged bites, both nodding appreciatively.

“It’s a tie,” JD declared. “We’ll just have to keep eating until we figure out a winner.”

Marie appeared beside them, snatching a piece of honey cake. “A tie, huh? Let me be the judge of that.”

“Hey!” JD protested. “We’re conducting a serious experiment here.”

Marie smirked. “And now you’ve got an unbiased third party. Hmm… the honey cake is excellent, but I think the tart edges it out. Sorry, Jovann.”

Jovann threw his hands up in mock indignation. “I knew this wasn’t a fair fight.”

The vendor laughed again, her face beaming with pride. “Keep debating, dears. As long as you’re enjoying yourselves, that’s all that matters.”

Lucius, ever the observer, was deep in conversation with Chrysta near the fountain at the center of the square. The two seemed engrossed in discussing the logistics of the wall construction and its impact on Galmora’s economy.

“You’ve done well managing the supply lines,” Lucius said, adjusting his spectacles. “If we’re lucky, we’ll avoid any significant delays.”

Chrysta nodded, her tone pragmatic. “Luck has little to do with it. Preparation is everything.”

Lucius glanced toward the bustling crowd. “Still, it’s no small feat. Coordinating so many moving parts requires a steady hand. You’ve done more than most could.”

Chrysta allowed a rare smile to cross her lips. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Lucius, but I’ll take it. Let’s just hope it holds when the real pressure begins.”

“Pressure has a way of revealing who’s truly prepared,” Lucius replied. “And I have no doubt you’ll rise to meet it.”

Wren and Renia were at the heart of the festivities, surrounded by well-wishers. Renia’s face was alight with happiness as she accepted congratulations from nobles and villagers alike. Wren, usually reserved, seemed at ease, his arm resting protectively around her shoulders. The way he stood beside her, his gaze unwavering, spoke volumes about his pride and devotion.

Jocko, holding a tankard of ale, approached the couple. “Well, if this isn’t the happiest I’ve ever seen you two. Renia, Wren, here’s to a long and prosperous marriage. May you argue less than the rest of us!”

The crowd erupted in laughter as Wren raised his own cup in response. “Thanks, Jocko. I’ll do my best to keep Renia happy.”

“And I’ll do my best to keep you humble,” Renia quipped, earning another round of laughter.

Arlan and Emmeline approached the couple next, their presence drawing attention from nearby guests. Arlan extended his hand to Wren, gripping it firmly. “Congratulations, Wren. You’ve done well,” he said, his tone carrying both warmth and respect.

Wren smiled, a rare ease in his expression. “Thanks, Arlan. I couldn’t have asked for a better day. Everything about this feels… right.”

Emmeline placed a gentle hand on Renia’s arm. “You look radiant, Renia. It’s a joy to see you both so happy,” she said, her words accompanied by a genuine smile.

Renia’s eyes glistened slightly. “Thank you, Emmeline. And you too, Arlan,” she added, her voice soft with emotion. “Walking me down the aisle… it felt like having a piece of my family with me. I’ll never forget it.”

Arlan inclined his head, his usual stoic demeanor softening. “It was an honor. You’ve always been family, Renia.”

Chrysta and JD joined the group, JD carrying a small plate of pastries. “Looks like we’re late to the congratulations,” JD said, a playful grin on his face. “Renia, Wren, congratulations.”

Chrysta added, her tone calm but sincere, “The two of you deserve every bit of this happiness. It’s rare to see such a perfect match.”

Renia smiled warmly, her gratitude clear. “Thank you, Chrysta, JD. It’s been overwhelming, but in the best way. I’m so glad all of you are here to celebrate with us.”

JD held up his plate. “By the way, Wren, you’ve got to try these berry tarts. They’re almost as sweet as this moment.”

Wren chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Alya darted into the conversation, her face beaming. “Finally! Wren’s my brother now! I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

Wren chuckled, ruffling Alya’s hair. “That’s right. And it’s about time you listened to your big brother.”

“No way,” Alya said with a laugh. “I’m still in charge.”

Near one of the stalls, Erin and Katalina admired a series of intricate floral arrangements displayed by local artisans. “The detail in these petals is remarkable,” Katalina said, brushing her fingers lightly over the flowers.

“You’d think they were enchanted,” Erin replied. “Though I’m fairly certain it’s just hard work and skill.”

Lanie, Trent’s little sister, peeked out from behind Erin, her eyes wide with wonder. “They’re so pretty. Do you think they’d let me take one?”

Erin crouched down, smiling warmly. “How about we ask them together? Maybe they’ll even tell you how they made them.”

“You’re the best,” Lanie said, hugging Erin tightly before scampering toward the florist with excitement.

Katalina chuckled. “She’s taken to you like a shadow.”

Erin watched Lanie with fondness. “It’s nice. She reminds me why we do what we do.”

Katalina tilted her head curiously. “She’s Trent’s sister, isn’t she?”

Erin’s expression grew more solemn. “Yes. Trent was one of my closest friends. He… didn’t make it out of the fight against Hector Hawkwell.” His voice softened. “After he passed, Jocko, Lem, and I made sure Lanie was cared for. I couldn’t leave her without someone to look out for her.”

Katalina’s eyes softened. “That’s a heavy burden to carry, but you’ve done right by her. She’s lucky to have you.”

Erin glanced at Lanie as she spoke animatedly with the florist. “No, I’m the lucky one. Watching her grow, seeing her smile like this… it’s worth everything.”

Katalina smiled, placing a hand gently on Erin’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Erin. Trent would be proud of you.”

Before Erin could respond, Lanie bounded back toward him, accidentally bumping into him and sending him stumbling forward—straight into Katalina. She caught him with surprising steadiness, her hands briefly resting on his arms.

“Well, that’s one way to get closer,” Katalina said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Erin’s face turned crimson as he straightened quickly. “I… uh, sorry about that. Lanie’s got a lot of energy.”

Katalina laughed softly, her gaze warm. “Don’t apologize.”

“I'm just a commoner though... I have no right to be like this to you,” Erin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Katalina’s smile didn’t waver as she stepped closer, her tone soft yet firm. “Erin, your status doesn’t matter to me. You’ve shown more honor and kindness than most nobles ever could.”

Erin’s eyes widened slightly, his nervousness evident. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Katalina replied with a light laugh. “Just keep being you. That’s more than enough.”

Lanie looked between them, grinning mischievously. “Did I interrupt something?”

Katalina knelt down, ruffling Lanie’s hair. “Not at all. But maybe next time, give us a little warning, hmm?”

“Okay!” Lanie giggled.

Her gaze lingered a moment longer, soft yet searching. “And it’s not just Lanie who’s lucky to have you around.”

Erin blinked then blushed after realizing what Katalina had met. He was flabbergasted that Katalina Reeve was showing interest in him.

Savage had pulled Lem into an arm-wrestling contest, their cheers and jeers attracting a small crowd. Niren observed silently, occasionally offering quiet encouragement to Lem.

“Put your back into it, Lem,” Niren said. “You almost had him that time.”

Lem gritted his teeth, giving Savage a defiant grin. “Don’t think for a second I’m going down easy. You’ve met your match.”

Savage laughed boisterously. “That’s the spirit! But you’ll need more than words to take me down.”

Akasha, leaning against a stall, watched the display with mild amusement. “Mortals and their contests. Always so fleeting.”

“Join in, Akasha,” Frej called from nearby, her tone teasing. “Or are you afraid to lose?”

Akasha’s eyes gleamed as a sly smile played on her lips. “Careful, Frej. I might take you up on that. And I don’t play fair.”

The crowd’s laughter grew louder as Savage slammed Lem’s hand down with a victorious roar. “Better luck next time, Lem!”

Lem shook his head, chuckling as he flexed his arm. “I’ll get you eventually, Savage. Just wait.”

“Keep dreaming,” Savage replied, already looking for his next challenger.

Alya and Onas had found a quieter corner where they sat, talking excitedly about their favorite stories. Onas’s elven ears twitched as he leaned closer. “I like the one about the dragon who turned into a knight to save a princess.”

“You know… One day, I’m going to be just like Arlan,” Alya declared, puffing out her chest with determination.

Onas tilted his head thoughtfully. “I think I’d rather be like Wren. Building things sounds more fun than fighting. Plus, no one gets hurt when you’re making things.”

Alya laughed, waving her hands in the air. “You’d need a hammer twice your size to keep up with Wren. And maybe some magic to make sure it doesn’t knock you over.”

Onas grinned, his youthful face lighting up. “Maybe I could make my own hammer one day. Wren said he’d teach me if I’m good enough.”

“You? A blacksmith?” Alya teased. “I’ll believe it when I see it. But I’ll cheer you on.”

Onas’s cheeks flushed slightly. “And I’ll cheer you on when you become a knight.”

Not far from the center of the square, a hush fell over a small group as Edgar appeared with a lute in hand. Most of the crowd turned, their curiosity piqued. Edgar, usually reserved and stoic, strummed the instrument with practiced ease, a soft, melodic tune filling the air.

Renia clasped her hands over her heart. “Edgar, you didn’t tell us you could play!”

Edgar smiled faintly, glancing at Wren and Renia. “It’s been a while, but I thought tonight deserved something special.”

He began to sing, his deep voice steady and soothing, weaving a tale of love and resilience that seemed to mirror Wren and Renia’s journey. The square grew still as his song carried over the crowd, capturing everyone’s attention.

Near the fountain, Chrysta nudged JD, whispering, “I didn’t know Edgar had this kind of talent.”

JD shrugged with a grin. “I’m starting to think there’s nothing he can’t do.”

Akasha, leaning against a nearby stall, tilted her head, her usual sharp demeanor softening. “His voice carries weight. It’s rare for music to move me, but this...” she trailed off, crossing her arms as if guarding herself from her own sentimentality.

Frej, standing beside her, chuckled. “Even the timeless can’t resist a good tune. Admit it, Akasha, you’re impressed.”

Arlan stood off to the side, a rare smile gracing his lips. Memories of quieter nights during the rebellion flooded back—Edgar strumming that same lute to lift the spirits of the Stormriders.

Yuna whispered to Fiala, “He’s been hiding this from us? I’m going to make him play every night we’re on the road now.”

Fiala laughed lightly. “Good luck convincing him. Edgar doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Arlan stood off to the side, a rare smile gracing his lips. Memories of quieter nights during the rebellion flooded back—Edgar strumming that same lute to lift the spirits of the Stormriders.

When Edgar finished, the crowd erupted into applause, cheers echoing through the square. Wren approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been hiding that talent from us, Edgar. Thank you. That was incredible.”

Renia wiped a tear from her eye, smiling brightly. “It was beautiful. Truly.”

Edgar inclined his head humbly. “I’m glad you liked it. This night is yours to remember.”

“And thanks to you, we’ll never forget it,” Wren replied warmly.

The festivities carried on late into the night, the bonds between friends and allies growing stronger. The laughter, music, and shared moments of joy made the celebration unforgettable, a testament to the resilience and unity of those gathered in Galmora.

At one point, Savage attempted to teach Onas how to balance a tankard of ale on his head. The elven boy’s serious expression as he concentrated made the surrounding adults burst into laughter. “You’re a natural, kid!” Savage bellowed, clapping him on the back, which sent the tankard tumbling to the ground, much to Onas’s dismay.

Nearby, Frej and Akasha found themselves in an impromptu duel using decorative wooden spoons from one of the stalls. Frej’s exaggerated swashbuckling earned cheers and jeers, while Akasha’s calculated parries made it clear she wasn’t playing around. “Yield, mortal!” she declared, prompting Frej to collapse dramatically, clutching his chest. “I’ll never… give up!” he groaned, drawing laughs from the growing crowd.

Even Lucius, who usually stayed on the sidelines, was drawn into the revelry when Alya and Lanie demanded he join them in a children’s ring dance. His awkward attempts to follow the steps had everyone, including himself, in stitches. “I never claimed to be a dancer,” he muttered with mock indignation as the girls cheered him on.

In the midst of the merriment, Renia and Wren shared a quiet moment together, watching their friends and family revel. “This is perfect,” Renia whispered, resting her head against Wren’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Wren smiled, squeezing her hand gently. “Neither would I.”