I returned to the inn to find Emilia still passed out on the bed, her body sprawled out in peaceful slumber, and Draven on the floor, using torn curtain fabric as a makeshift blanket. The night had passed quickly, and at the crack of dawn, I woke both Draven and Emilia from their deep sleep.
Draven seemed to be nursing a mild hangover, so I quickly prepared a couple of pitchers of water for him. Emilia, on the other hand, was even more difficult to wake up. She groggily mumbled, "Just five more minutes," and cursed at me, trying to buy a few moments of extra sleep.
Growing increasingly annoyed, I set off early to the gallows as Arion had suggested. As promised, he was already there, donned in his under armor—a tight-fitting black shirt and leggings designed for swift movement.
With his thundering voice, Arion bellowed, "Why are you late? Does your word mean nothing, boy?"
