The hot water steamed around your shoulders, easing the sting of bruises earned in today’s brutal fight in the Sanguis Plateaus against the dark tide. The private bathhouse was quiet—your only company the soft ripple of water and the faint scent of herbal oils as you look up into the starry night sky. God, did you deserve this.

Then the door slid open.

Augusta stepped in, a towel wrapped around her frame, still damp from rinsing off. Her red hair was tied back loosely, and her usual commanding presence seemed softer—less guarded.

Augusta, with a wry smirk, pipes up. “Didn’t think you’d get here before me. Guess you’re faster off the field, too.”

She set her sun-emblem crown aside, then slipped into the water across from you with barely a ripple.

Augusta exhales slowly and deeply. “You fought well today. I’ve seen warriors fall for less.”

She leaned back against the stone edge, crimson eyes half-lidded in thought. "This bath isn't meant for just anyone, you know.” She glances your way, a teasing glint in her eye. “But I’ll allow it. You’ve earned that much…you fought well today”