Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Silver Stag, casting warm beams across the wooden floor.
John slowly opened his eyes.
For a brief moment, he simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Then it came back to him.
"...Valenor."
He sat up and stretched his arms. Unlike the rough campsites and roadside shelters they had used during their journey, the bed beneath him was surprisingly comfortable. The mattress was soft without sinking too deeply, and the blanket still carried the faint scent of lavender.
He smiled.
"I almost forgot what a proper bed feels like."
A gentle knock came from the door.
"John?"
It was Sylvara.
"Are you awake?"
"Yeah, give me a minute."
"I'll wait downstairs."
After she walked away, John changed into a fresh set of clothes from his backpack. They were simple traveling clothes, but after washing the dust from them the previous evening, they looked much more presentable.
He looked at himself in the small mirror hanging beside the bed.
