The sun had already dipped behind Westmont's tallest rooftops when a knock came at the Mercenary Guild's main door.
Damien had just finished going over his inventory again, this time checking the enchantments on his gear.
Arielle was lounging in the common room, boots kicked off, sipping what smelled faintly of citrus wine.
Lyone sat cross-legged by the fireplace, showing the baby how to make animal shadows with his fingers against the flames.
The knock was firm—measured and deliberate.
Damien stood, half-expecting trouble, until he opened the door to find one of Lord Ellian's guards standing tall in his polished silver-etched armor. The man gave a slight bow before straightening and handing Damien a sealed envelope.
"A summons from the Lord," the guard said. "You are invited to the manor. A celebration in your honor, Lord Damien."
Damien stared at the letter for a long second before breaking the seal and skimming its contents. He frowned slightly.
