Chapter 101: Celebration before Departure
Two months later, the halls of the Adventurer’s Guild in Elandra felt different.
Not quieter—never that—but lighter. The war room was no longer filled with frenzied shouting or the clatter of emergency dispatches. For once, the parchment stacks were lower, the messengers fewer, and the tension that usually weighed on everyone’s shoulders had finally begun to lift.
Victory did that.
Across the continent, the last two anchor points had been destroyed. Cleansing operations had confirmed that the demonic trace had stopped spreading. Mages reported that the veil between worlds was stabilizing, and even the High Temple had issued a rare proclamation of thanks to the Guild. It was, in every sense, a turning point.
So tonight, Guildmaster Thorne had called for a gathering.
"Not a ceremony," he clarified dryly to his aides. "Adventurers don’t care about medals. Feed them, let them drink, and give them a few hours to remember that they’re still alive."
And so they had.
The long banquet hall on the third floor—usually reserved for high-ranking guests and dignitaries—had been stripped of protocol. Tables were pushed together into long, mismatched rows. Plates piled high with roast venison, thick stew, salted fish, and baked bread filled the space. Jugs of ale and fruit wine passed freely. Laughter bounced off stone walls.
It wasn’t elegant, but it was real.
Inigo sat at the end of one of the middle tables, a plate half-full and untouched in front of him. He watched the others for a moment, taking it all in.
Lyra was perched on a bench to his left, arguing playfully with Korrik over who had the better reflexes.