The morning sun cast a golden hue over the city, spilling light across red-tiled rooftops and cobblestone streets. Smoke spiraled lazily from chimneys, and merchants began opening stalls with cheerful shouts, calling out wares that ranged from baked bread to fine silks. The air carried a mixture of scents: the tang of fresh herbs, the acrid burn of smithing fires, and the faint salt from the river that curved lazily around the city walls.
Rayan stood in their small room, pulling his worn leather armor over his tunic. The leather creaked faintly as he adjusted the straps across his shoulders. Lina watched him with curious eyes, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.
"Are you… a soldier?" she asked quietly, her voice soft, carrying both awe and concern.
Rayan shook his head with a small smile. "Not quite. I'm a gate guard. I work outside the city walls."
Her eyes widened slightly, worry flashing across her face. "But… there are monsters out there. Dangerous ones. Aren't you afraid?"
He tightened the straps on his boots and pulled them snug. "I didn't have a choice," he said simply. "I have no magic, no swordsmanship. This was the only job I could get."
Lina's hands clenched gently at the hem of her modest dress. She still wasn't sure what role she would play in this new life with him, but for now, she was simply grateful to have a roof over her head and someone kind by her side. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she struggled to voice the worry she felt.
Rayan turned toward her with a faint, reassuring smile. "Rest here. I'll be back after my shift."
She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Be careful… outside the walls."
He gave a faint chuckle, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "I always am."
Outside the city gates, the morning bustle greeted him. Carts creaked under heavy loads, merchants hawked their wares with practiced enthusiasm, and the occasional adventurer strode past, crest gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Rayan joined the other guards at the checkpoint, nodding silently to his comrades. Time moved slowly under the high sun. He watched travelers with a mixture of respect and longing. Those bearing crests and cloaks of vibrant colors reminded him of what he lacked and what he still hoped to achieve.
Hours passed in a rhythm of careful observation a cart tipped dangerously but was steadied by the driver a child ran ahead of his parents, laughing and weaving through the legs of pedestrians, a lone mage with a flickering fire crest hurried through the gates. Each moment was routine, repetitive, yet vital, and Rayan performed his duties with quiet diligence.
When his shift ended, he slipped through the quiet streets toward the nearby woods. Here, beneath the shade of old oaks and maples, was a small clearing he had claimed as his private training ground. The grass was worn from repeated footfalls, the earth soft but steady beneath him. From behind a bush, he drew a dull, well-used sword, its surface scratched and nicked from past practice.
His swings were deliberate and slow at first, each arc measured to correct technique, to build muscle memory. Sweat began to run down his brow, soaking into his hair, dripping to the tips of his worn leather boots. He pressed on, each movement pushing his arms to tremble with exertion. His mind focused entirely on the rhythm of sword against air, the feel of leather gripping wood, and the imagined weight of an enemy before him.
Time passed unnoticed, He sheathed the sword with a faint sigh, muscles aching, body coated in a thin film of dirt and sweat. He paused for a moment, inhaling the scent of pine and damp earth, before heading back toward the city.
Back in the small room, Lina paced nervously. The space was tiny a bed tucked against the far wall, a small table with two chairs, a shelf half-filled with worn books, and the couch Rayan had claimed. She had tried to prepare something for him while he was away but had found no ingredients suitable for a proper meal. Her fingers trailed along the edges of the table as she waited, mind racing with questions about their future, about her place in this strange new life.
The door opened quietly, and Rayan entered, carrying a small bundle of foraged herbs, roots, and a few scavenged vegetables. Lina brightened immediately.
"I want to cook something," she said, her voice light but determined.
Rayan set the bundle on the table and smiled faintly. "I pick the ingredients from the woods after my shift. From tomorrow, I'll try to bring some in advance."
She tilted her head curiously, studying him. "Do you… know how to cook?"
"Yeah," he replied, placing the ingredients on the table and inspecting them. "I didn't when I was in the mansion. After I was kicked out, I took this gate guard job. At first, I ate whatever I could find outside. It cost more than I earned, so I began skipping meals. Then I started buying cheap ingredients potatoes, sweet potatoes. I steamed them with a pinch of salt. Eventually, I learned to make salads, soups, and curries… basic things."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "So… you're actually good at cooking?" she asked, a small smile forming.
"Not that good," he said, lighting a small fire in the hearth. "I cook to survive, not for taste."
She watched silently as he worked, the flames reflecting in her eyes. Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, he moved with care and precision, chopping herbs, stirring a small pot, and tasting a spoonful before adjusting the seasonings.
Soon, the meal was ready. It was simple a stew of roots, herbs, and wild vegetables, but it carried warmth and effort in every bite. They ate together quietly, the only sounds the gentle crackle of the fire and the soft scraping of spoon against bowl.
"This… this is really good," Lina said softly, savoring a spoonful. "It… it reminds me a little of my mother's cooking, for a second. She… she used to make something like this."
Rayan glanced at her, a faint warmth spreading across his chest. "I'm glad," he said quietly. "It's not much, but… it's honest. You can taste the care in it."
For a while, neither spoke, but the silence was comfortable, not strained. The room felt warmer, smaller in a way that was comforting rather than suffocating. Lina ate slowly, savoring the taste, letting the effort of the day and the quiet companionship soothe her.
As the last remnants of daylight slipped through the window, painting the room in soft oranges and golds, they finished the meal. Lina set the empty bowls aside, glancing at Rayan with a shy but genuine smile. "Thank you. Not just for the meal… for everything. For letting me stay, for… being kind."
Rayan nodded, brushing a hand over his forehead to wipe sweat. "You don't need to thank me. We're… in this together now. That's all that matters."
Lina's smile lingered as she moved to tidy the table. She caught his gaze once more, noting the quiet determination in his eyes, the weariness beneath his calm exterior, and the subtle pride in what he had prepared. In that small, modest room, she felt a fragile sense of belonging a feeling she hadn't experienced in years.
Outside, the sun dipped lower, shadows stretching across the city streets. Inside, two people sat in quiet companionship, sharing warmth, food, and the unspoken understanding that the road ahead would not be easy but that they would face it together.
And for Lina, in that moment, the taste of wild herbs and roots was more than sustenance it was hope. Hope that kindness could exist in a world that had long shown her only cruelty. And for Rayan, the act of preparing the meal was a quiet affirmation of his resilience, a reminder that even without a crest, without power or prestige, he could still carve a life worth living and share it with someone who mattered.
The night settled over the city, cool and calm. The flicker of the fire cast soft shadows on the walls, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to pause. Inside the small room, two hearts scarred by loss, molded by hardship found a measure of peace. And as Lina drifted off to sleep, her thoughts lingered on Rayan's quiet strength and the simple warmth of a shared meal.
It was a small beginning, but it was enough.