Raiden was currently dead to the world.
He'd woken up before dawn as usual, stretched a little, and planned to head out to the training grounds.
But the soreness from the previous night's training hit harder than a hammer to the ribs. His arms ached, his legs felt like stone, and even his eyelids protested the effort of staying open.
"I strongly believe that I, Raiden Goldheart, deserve five more minutes," he murmured, burying his face back into his pillow.
Five minutes turned into thirty. Then an hour. Then two.
When he next stirred, the faint morning light was already filtering through his window. The air was still cool, carrying that familiar crispness that came just before the estate came alive for the day.
He yawned and sat up halfway. "Maybe Sir Leonard won't come today," he muttered hopefully. "He did say he was going on a mission, right? Yeah… maybe he's still away."
That comforting thought lulled him back down into his sheets.
