The midday mess tent smelled of roasted meat, smoke, and the faint tang of ale. A brazier in the center sent out a comforting warmth, pushing back the cold northern air that slipped in whenever the flaps shifted.
The circle table by the fire had four chairs neatly arranged around it, and small mugs of ale were lined up, waiting.
Soren then stepped toward his seat, thinking this would be a quiet moment to rest. But then he stopped when Kent, Justin, and Louie weren't sitting. They stood in front of him, lined up shoulder to shoulder, heads lowered slightly.
The sight made Soren frown in confusion.
Before he could speak, the three simultaneously bent at the waist in a careful bow that the movement was uncharacteristically formal, almost ceremonial.
"We… we are truly sorry," Kent said first, his voice low but steady, carrying weight he rarely allowed in his tone. "For treating you so rudely those past few days. We really haven't apologized properly to you, so…"
