Ignoring the restless streets of the city, Ethan and Lia kept their heads down, weaving through the throngs of people who lingered near the gates. Whispers of the portal's collapse and the kingdom's mage buzzed in the air like static. They both did not engage in any of it and headed straight for the inn.

"Aye! You are still here? Good. Good." The voice came from a scruffy, middle-aged man leaning against a wagon near the inn. His weathered face broke into a relieved grin when he saw Ethan and Lia approach. "I was about to vacate the city myself, but thank the blessed heavens that portal business is done."

The man then noticed how the two of them were battle worn and his eyes softened. "Go upstairs and grab any room you want. Its on me. Thanks for protecting the city."

"That's kind of you," Ethan was surprised at the generosity. "But we didn't—"

The man waved a hand dismissively, cutting him off. "Spare me the humility, lad. You two look like you've been through hell and back. Don't think I don't notice the ichor on your boots or the burns on your gloves. You fought, and that's more than most could say."

The man grinned, stepping aside to gesture toward the inn. "Go on, then. Top floor's quietest, and you won't be disturbed. I'll make sure no one bothers you."

Ethan offered a small smile of gratitude. "Thank you."

As they stepped into the inn, the warm glow of the hearth and the faint murmur of patrons greeted them. Ethan led the way up the creaking stairs. The top floor was, as promised, quiet and empty. He picked a room at the far end of the hall, away from prying eyes and ears.

Once inside, he locked the door and leaned back against it, exhaling a long breath. He was tired. He went straight for the bed and collapsed.

Ethan's body sank into the mattress with a groan, the weight of the day finally catching up to him. Every muscle ached, every movement felt like wading through molasses, but at least for now, the battle was over.

He tilted his head to look at Lia, who was still standing near the door, her face drawn and pale. "You too," Ethan murmured, his voice low and rough. "We've earned this."

Lia hesitated for a moment before nodding. She set her pack down in the corner of the room and sat down on the edge of the second bed. She hesitated some more but after seeing that Ethan was already fast asleep, she too went to bed quietly.

The next morning came with the muted light of dawn filtering through the small, dust-streaked window of their room. The quiet hum of the city waking up wafted in from the streets below, mingling with the faint scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery. It was a far cry from the chaos of the battlefield from the day before.

Ethan stirred, groaning as stiff muscles protested his every movement. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking in the room.

"Good morning, Master." Lia offered a soft smile from where she sat by the window, her hazel eyes catching the first light of the day. She looked more rested than the night before, though a lingering exhaustion still clung to her features.

A small tray with a loaf of bread and a cup of steaming tea sat beside her—likely procured from the innkeeper.

"Morning," Ethan muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep. He stretched, wincing as his body reminded him of the punishment it had endured the previous day. "You're up early."

Lia quickly stood up and walked over to him. "Master, may I help you clean up?"

"Huh?" Ethan was taken back but seeing the eager puppy dog expression on her face, he did not have the heart to say no. "Okay?"

Lia beamed and quickly retrieved a small basin of water and a cloth from the corner of the room, likely supplied by the innkeeper.

Ethan watched her move about with efficiency, setting the items on a small table near the bed. He felt an odd mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "You really don't have to, you know," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"It's no trouble, Master." Lia replied firmly, wringing out the cloth. She gave him an earnest look, her hazel eyes unwavering.

Ethan sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, but don't make it a habit."

Lia chuckled softly. "Understood, Master."

She began dabbing at the smudges of dried ichor and dirt on his hands and arms, her movements gentle but precise. Ethan flinched once when the cold cloth brushed a particularly tender bruise, but Lia quickly apologized, her touch softening further.

"Shall I get the water warmed up, Master?"

Ethan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No need. This is fine," he said, his voice still rough from sleep. "It's refreshing, actually."

Lia tilted her head, her hazel eyes scanning his face for a moment before nodding. "As you wish, Master," she said softly, her focus returning to cleaning the grime off his hands. She worked with a quiet diligence, her movements precise and almost meditative.

Ethan watched her for a moment, the awkwardness between them slowly dissolving. "Say, where do you think I could learn magic like that?"