That evening, after scrubbing away weeks of wilderness grime in a steaming bath scented with fragrant oils, Owain settled into his private dining chamber. The comforting feel of fresh linen against his skin and the gentle warmth of the hearth fire helped wash away the lingering memories of sleeping in mud-splattered tents and enduring the foul odor carried from hastily dug latrines whenever the fickle wind shifted its direction.
His muscles still ached from days spent hiking through the dense underbrush, constantly tense and on alert for another ambush by the devious demons, but cleaned and properly dressed once more, he felt himself transforming back into the noble lord he was meant to be.
