"I don't belong in a place like this."

That thought occurred to Alaric as soon as he stepped into the supermarket—bright lights, narrow aisles, the usual murmur of everyday conversation. Everything here was inefficient. Disorganized. Noisy in a way never before seen on a battlefield.

He was here to buy coffee and meat.

That was it.

No assistants. No bodyguards. No uniforms.

Just a coat, a watch, and a name no one here recognized.

He moved awkwardly, unaccustomed, stopping in front of a shelf. The brand didn't matter. They all have the same function. But his eyes betrayed him; he scanned the shelves, searching for the coffee packaging that most caught his eye.