To ensure Rettucia truly had time to finish the Anchor—and that he wouldn't arrive prematurely—Percival spent the night at the inn.
But that wasn't his true reason.
After a purchased meal of roast fowl glazed with honey and a mug of sugared ale, he found himself with strength enough only for a body-soothing sleep.
It didn't interfere with his plans. The day was already spent, and beginning the journey at dawn would be better.
Dawn came.
Through the shutters of his room, the sun casted long dusty beams, one of which ran over his eyes, waking him up.
Percival's grip tightened on his sword hilt which lay flat on his chest. He squinted as he pulled himself up from the comfort of his pillow.
He felt fully replenished. Both his mana and his health were fully recovered after days of spending and barely refilling.
After showering, he put on his armor, tightening the cap of his waterskin and hanging it by his waist.
