The journey back to Aerenthal passes smoothly, with the road stretching ahead in a calm, unbroken line. For the first time in a while, the tension within their small group seems to be at ease. Brycen, riding near the back, listens to the quiet rhythm of the horses' hooves and the gentle rustling of trees. The uneasy edge that had been haunting him since leaving Greystone seems to fade, helped along by a moment he hadn't expected to witness.

As they rode through a particularly peaceful stretch of forest, Brycen had overheard Aaron apologizing to Soren. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the moment had unfolded naturally in front of him, neither trying to hide what they were saying to one another in any way.

Aaron’s voice had been low, gruff, but sincere. "I shouldn't have attacked you. I was angry... but that’s no excuse.  It wasn't your fault Vardell snuck out, and I respect you for trying to stand up for your comrade."

Soren had given a short laugh, one hand lightly touching the still-healing bruise near his eye. "Yeah, well, your temper’s no secret, Quinn. But I appreciate the apology."

Aaron had grumbled something under his breath that sounded a bit like listen to your commanding officer next time, but it was enough. There is no grudge, no lingering tension between them anymore, and as Brycen watched them ride side by side, he feels something settle within himself too.

By the time they reach the outskirts of Aerenthal, the atmosphere has shifted. The burden of conflict, both internal and external, no longer weighs them down. Even Aaron, usually so tightly wound, seems more at ease.

Soren glances over his shoulder at Brycen with a smirk. "Think we'll actually get some downtime this time around? Or is it straight back into the chaos?"

Brycen chuckles, though there is a hint of something heavier in his tone. "One can hope. Either that, or they’ll keep us too busy to think."

Soren raises an eyebrow, catching the weight behind the casual remark. "Right, because being too busy to think is exactly what you need," he teases, but his voice softens low enough that the other two can't hear them. "What’s on your mind, Bry?"

Brycen shakes his head, offering a half-smile. "Nothing I can’t handle."

But Soren knows better. Brycen can handle the weight of the world, sure- but that doesn’t mean he isn’t carrying it. Soren gives a knowing chuckle and turns back to the road ahead, leaving Brycen to his thoughts.

In truth, Brycen isn’t sure what he wants. He hopes for enough time to sneak away and visit Kaylin. But... well, if they are swamped with work, at least it would stop his mind from wandering too much while he's on duty.  Asking for enough time off that he could take the four day trip to there and back and still have time to spend with Kaylin will likely prove difficult- he and Kaylin have no misgivings of that. So he’d rather he either have the time to see Kaylin or be too busy to dwell on the fact that he missed him. Either option was better than just waiting around, letting the ache grow stronger.

With the city in sight, its towering spires rising against the sky, Brycen allows himself a rare moment of contentment. The road ahead still holds challenges- his responsibilities as a Paladin, the strain of having to be away from Kaylin, especially so early in their relationship- but for now, things feel... easier. And that's enough. For now.

---

The city of Aerenthal is a grand sight after the quietness of the smaller towns to the north. The capital sits at the edge of Lake Alveris, its vast waters glimmering under the late afternoon sun. A bustling port city, Aerenthal is alive with the constant motion of ships arriving from Driftwood, across the massive lake, their white sails dotting the horizon like clouds drifting on the lake’s surface.

Brycen breathes deep, taking in the familiar bracing scent of freshwater carried by the cool breeze sweeping off the lake, mingled with the faint smell of fish that always seems to permeate the air. It’s a scent that speaks of home, of long years spent in service to the kingdom, of the hustle and bustle that keeps the city alive at all hours of the day.

The wide cobblestone streets leading into the heart of the city are already teeming with life. Merchants hawk their wares from brightly colored stalls, their voices rising above the clatter of hooves and the creak of cart wheels. Children dart through the crowds, laughing and chasing each other underfoot, while sailors haul crates from ships anchored at the port.

The tall spires of the Aerenthal Palace rise above the city like watchful guardians, their gleaming rooftops catching the sunlight. The capital is more than just a place of political power- it is a thriving center of culture and commerce, where nobles and common folk alike mingle in the lively streets.

For a moment, Brycen lets himself get lost in the energy of the city. After the quiet isolation of the border towns, the lively chaos of Aerenthal feels like a welcome change. He straightens in his saddle, guiding Shadow forward as they make their way through the familiar streets toward the Paladin barracks.

Though he relishes the excitement of the capital, there is a part of him that can't help but think of Kaylin- the quiet cottage outside of Greystone, the serene stillness of their life there. When he was there, he never wanted to leave.  Aerenthal is everything Greystone is not- noisy, grand, chaotic. But there’s a comfort here too, a sense of belonging that comes from years of duty.

Brycen pushes the other thoughts away for now. Duty first. Always duty.

They make their way through the bustling streets, the familiar clatter of hooves echoing off the cobblestones. As they hit the main thoroughfare, a line of citizens greet them with cheers and applause, waving flags and calling out in excitement. The sight of the Paladins returning from the border always brings a swell of pride to the people, and certainly the news of the attack had reached them.  Brycen can’t help but smile, despite his own exhaustion.

"Looks like we’re heroes today," Soren mutters under his breath, though his voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

Brycen glances at him, knowing exactly what his friend is feeling. After weeks of hard travel, all they want is a quiet night and a warm meal in the comfort of their own homes.  And having worked their way up from the Academy as soldiers, then squires, then knights, after finally becoming Paladins, they've been through this enough time to know what's coming next.

They couldn’t even make it halfway up the street when a rider approaches, dressed in the colors of the king’s household. He pulled up beside Aaron, saluting swiftly.

"Congratulations on your successful mission, Sir Quinn," the rider says formally. "You are invited to the castle for a meeting with the king. His Majesty wishes to be briefed on the details of your patrol."

Beside him, Brycen hears Soren groan quietly, the sound so faint it's likely only Brycen caught it. He stifles his own groan of frustration, keeping his face neutral as he watches Aaron nod to the rider.

"Of course," Aaron replies, his tone even. "We will attend immediately."

Soren shoots him a sidelong glance as the rider speeds ahead towards the castle. "Immediately, huh?" he murmurs, sounding thoroughly unenthused.

Aaron shrugs, though he clearly feels the same. "It’s the King. We don’t exactly get to ask for a raincheck."

"Yeah, well, I’d rather be asking for a stiff drink and a bath," Soren grumbles, rubbing a hand across his neck. "Debriefing can wait. My feet, however, can’t."

"I’m with you," Brycen agrees quietly, casting a wistful glance toward the road that would lead to his estate, where a warm bed and quiet awaits him. But that isn’t in the cards- not yet, at least.

As they pass the gates and head toward the towering silhouette of the castle, Brycen pushes down his exhaustion and does his best to focus. He’ll need all his wits about him when speaking to the King, no matter how many times he's called to do it. But in the back of his mind, he's already counting the minutes until he can slip away, maybe even write to Kaylin to let him know he's back safely.

Duty calls, but home can’t come soon enough.

---

The meeting with the King stretches on far longer than Brycen had anticipated. What should have been a simple debrief turns into an exhaustive interrogation by military advisors. Every detail about the border patrol, the attack on Duskbrook, and the mysterious alchemical gas they encountered is picked apart.

King Jordyn, seated at the head of the table, listens intently, his sharp gaze flicking between his Paladins and the advisors. Though he trusts his Paladins, Brycen can see the King wants every bit of information, every potential threat laid bare.

Aaron begins the report, his voice steady but fatigued. "The attack on Duskbrook was unprecedented. We believe the gas was a weapon from Myrvallis, designed to target both civilians and soldiers. Duskbrook’s Head Cleric identified it as a paralytic agent, mixed with a toxin that attacks the lungs."

An older advisor, his face etched with deep lines of skepticism, leans forward. "What was the Cleric's treatment method?"

Brycen resists a sigh. They had already covered this. "The Cleric used herbal remedies to slow the effects, allowing the victims to recover over several days. However, the gas is extremely dangerous, and even with treatment, it left lasting damage for some."

"And the source?" another advisor asks. "Can we confirm it came from Myrvallis?"

Soren speaks up, his weariness evident. "We couldn’t trace it directly, but the tactics are consistent with Myrvallis' previous methods. This attack felt like a test, meant to gauge our defenses."

The King’s voice cuts through the tension. "Can Duskbrook defend itself against this again?"

Lyra answers, "We've improved their defenses, trained the militia, and stationed Paladins Elara and Thorne to assist. Similar reinforcements are now at Stonehallow and Briarcliff. But if Myrvallis escalates, it’s hard to say if traditional defenses will be enough. This gas can't be fought with swords or walls."

Brycen feels the unease in the room grow as the advisors mutter among themselves. He can’t help but think of Kaylin and the village near Duskbrook. If Myrvallis launched another attack, Kaylin’s village could be at risk before anyone could react.

Lord Almeric, one of the King’s closest advisors, breaks the silence. "We need more information. If Myrvallis is deploying this weapon, we need to know its full scope and potential use in warfare. Guesswork won’t protect us."

Soren responds, "We're soldiers, not spies. Our mission was to protect Duskbrook, but long-term intelligence will need resources we don’t have in the field."

King Jordyn nods, his expression thoughtful. "You did well securing the town. But Almeric is right. This gas is a new threat, and we need to gather more intelligence. You'll be relieved of your duties for now, but we may call on you again once we know more."

Relief flickers through Brycen at the King's dismissal. Their mission is over, for now. But the weight of the unresolved threat lingers.

As the meeting drags on, Brycen's thoughts wander back to Kaylin. He hasn’t stopped thinking about them since leaving, and the severity of the situation only deepens his desire to return to the safety and warmth of the cottage.

By the time King Jordyn dismisses them, Brycen is exhausted.

"Well, that was... thorough," Soren mutters as they exit the chambers, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension.

"That’s one way to put it," Brycen replies, relieved to finally step into the cool evening air outside the castle.

After confirming that his presence isn't required for the evening shift at the barracks, Brycen directs Shadow toward his estate. The familiar streets of Aerenthal pass in a blur, most residents long having retired to their beds. The estate that comes into view as he rounds the last corner is grand- more space than he could ever reasonably need. Its tall windows, polished stone walls, and meticulously kept gardens speak of the wealth and status he inherited as a Vardell. Yet, despite its size and opulence, it is nothing compared to the imposing grandeur of the main Vardell Estate, where his parents reside on the southern side of the city.

 For that, Brycen is grateful.

He’s often considered moving to a smaller, simpler manor, but duty keeps him tethered to the capital. And his estate, though overly large, affords him the privacy the main Vardell household never could.

Dismounting, Brycen hands Shadow’s reins to his stable master and heads inside. His legs ache, but the thought of an evening to himself, away from duties and patrols, is welcome.

Vincent, his ever-attentive seneschal, greets him at the door. "I've drawn a bath for you, my lord," Vincent says, voice as smooth as ever.

"You're too good to me, Vincent," Brycen replies, already relaxing at the thought of hot water easing his aches.

Vincent takes his cloak and gloves with practiced ease. “Shall I prepare your usual supper after your bath, or something lighter?”

"Something lighter," Brycen says. "I’m not too hungry."

"As you wish, my lord," Vincent responds efficiently, and Brycen feels grateful once more for his presence.

He climbs the grand staircase, passing portraits of his ancestors, their gazes a constant reminder of his legacy. Today, though, he just wants a moment to himself.

In the bathroom, the steam hits him immediately. The marble tub gleams under candlelight, Vincent having added Brycen’s favorite woodsy oils. Stripping off his armor and clothing, Brycen dismisses his armor-bearer and sinks into the bath. The water soothes his aching muscles, and he lets his head fall back against the tub’s cool stone edge.

The quiet is a relief, but his thoughts still circle back to Kaylin- wondering if they’re safe and happy in Greystone. Duty will keep him in Aerenthal for now, but the pull to be by Kaylin's side is stronger than ever.

Soon, he’ll see them again. But for now, he lets himself rest.

Vincent will see to the rest, as always.