Now back to Gon, he stood by his bed, his figure illuminated by the soft golden light of the morning sun streaming through the thin curtains.
He was dressed in his freshly laundered tunic and trousers, the fabric smelling faintly of lavender and soap.
His dark boots, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the light as if they were crafted from obsidian.
In his hands, he held his new sword, a gift bestowed upon him by the Duke the previous night.
The blade was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its polished steel glimmering with a silvery sheen that seemed to hold a life of its own.
Faint, intricate engravings ran along its length, their patterns swirling like whispers of wind captured in metal.
The hilt was wrapped in rich, dark leather, supple and smooth to the touch, providing a firm grip.
At the pommel, a small sapphire was embedded, its deep blue hue sparkling faintly, as though it contained a fragment of the evening sky.
