After completing each of our quests, we did what we always did.
Returned to the merchants. Handed over herbs. Watched the familiar quest windows pop up one after another, that pleasant ding that said, yes, you survived again.
Routine. Comforting. Almost domestic, if you ignored the fact that most of those herbs could kill a person if brewed wrong.
We huddled together and teleported back to Galdosh.
The moment my feet touched the stone plaza, my spine went straight.
Royal knights.
Everywhere.
Not the subtle kind either. No blending in, no pretending to be decorative. Polished armor. Perfect formation. The kind of presence that screamed, We are here on purpose.
Citizens froze mid-step. Adventurers slowed, hands drifting closer to weapons without even realizing it. The air felt stretched, thin, like someone pulled tension over the city and forgot to release it.
"…Wow," I muttered. "They really didn't believe in subtlety, huh."
