The heavy oak doors swing open, and Caius steps into the hall, armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight. The scent of travel still clings to him — leather, steel, and distant rain — yet not a scratch mars his form. His gaze sweeps the corridor, sharp and searching, before softening the moment it finds you. A faint, rare smile tugs at his lips.

"It’s good to see you again," he says quietly, voice steady but warm.

There’s something in his tone — relief, familiarity, a bond unspoken yet undeniably present.