It was Friday evening on Trion, and the players were, as usual, gathered at the restaurant on the third floor.
The camaraderie from Carmen's birthday celebration lingered, and the group felt closer than ever.
Well, almost all. Arlon remained the same—reserved and distant. He hadn't mentioned that it was also his birthday the day before, considering it unnecessary.
He hadn't celebrated a birthday in the past eleven years. Not in the timeline he had regressed from, nor in this one.
Birthdays weren't important to him. They were just another day in his book.
The players were evaluating their training progress as the week concluded. Next week promised less physical excitement: history and etiquette lessons.
But there was a bright side.
"I'm really excited about the ball—wait, is it a ball? A banquet? A celebration? What do we even call it in this world?" Maria asked.
