The celebration unfolded in waves of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Tables of golden fruits and roasted meats lined the courtyard edges, while nobles and knights alike exchanged chatter under the shimmering glow of crystal lanterns. Serah, though surrounded by so much festivity, gravitated to the familiar presence of her companions.
Gathered near the fountain, away from the thickest clusters of nobles, Jorin stretched out his legs with an exaggerated sigh. His torso was still wrapped in fresh bandages beneath his ceremonial attire, but that didn't stop him from leaning back with a goblet in hand, his other arm draped loosely around Myla.
"Well," Jorin said with a grin, lifting his cup, "finally, we can breathe. No slavers, no bloodthirsty guards, no running through underground vaults. Just… wine. And peace."
