Realm Lord

With the immediate threat of their injuries addressed, Arthur and Aziel finally had a chance to take in their surroundings properly. They were standing in what appeared to be a bedroom—and a rather spacious one at that. Four neatly made beds were arranged against the walls, each with a small trunk at its foot. A door stood perpetually ajar at the far end of the room, revealing glimpses of white tile and metal fixtures that suggested a bathroom beyond. Arthur noticed with tactical appreciation that the door was wedged open with what looked like a piece of broken stone pillar—clearly an attempt to prevent it from closing and potentially shifting them to another part of the castle.

Soft light emanated from multiple candles and lanterns around the room. The air here felt different too—cleaner, with none of the musty decay that permeated the rest of the castle.

Arthur rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, marveling at the absence of pain. His muscles still carried the memory of fatigue, but the sharp agonies that had been his constant companions were blessedly absent. Beside him, Aziel was performing his own series of experimental stretches, bending his previously mangled foot at the ankle with an expression of amazed disbelief.

Across from them, Lara and her team had visibly relaxed their guard. Their weapons were no longer drawn—Jonas’s massive shield which seemed to be a soul weapon has disappeared, As well as the two long daggers Lara carried, Kay’s warhammer leaned against the wall and Jake’s energy bow had dissipated entirely. The four explorers maintained a professional distance, but the immediate tension of potential combat had dissolved.

Lara stood with her arms crossed, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she observed their obvious relief.

"I’m sure you guys are beat and starved," she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine sympathy now, "but I have a few more questions."

Arthur paused mid-stretch, lowering his arms to meet her gaze directly. "What is it?" The wariness in his voice wasn’t entirely gone—trust came slowly to him, especially in this realm where death lurked around every corner.

Lara’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied them both, her gaze methodically scanning from their disheveled hair to their battered clothes. "Where are all your supplies? No food? No water? No backpack?" Her tone suggested she found this almost more puzzling than their presence in the castle itself. "Do you guys have weapons? And lastly..." Her eyes lingered on the ragged tears in Arthur’s sleeve, the frayed edges of Aziel’s pants, "your clothes seem to be hanging on by threads."

Arthur stared at her with genuine confusion. Had they missed some crucial orientation? Some basic preparation that every chosen was supposed to undergo?