And so, the boxes contained thick woolen blankets, assorted teas, winter boots, fine gloves, wool-lined cloaks, and small pouches of dried herbs and salves. There was even a finely crafted fountain pen, accompanied by a small note that read, "In case you wish to write to someone."
Yet what caught Soren's attention the most was a brown leather pouch heavy with gold.
'There's even gold… This is far too much,' he thought quietly.
While Soren was completely absorbed in examining the gifts, Sylas and Lyric were engaged elsewhere, locked in a heated confrontation.
"How dare you get close to that commoner!" Sylas roared, his fist slamming into Lyric's face. "What has he done to you for you to act like such an idiot, Lyric?!"
Lyric staggered but remained standing. He then wiped the blood from his lip, a bruise already blooming across his cheek, and glared back at Sylas.
