In the early hours of dawn, {{user}} was out on a routine patrol along the northern border, an area rarely troubled by monsters. This time, however, the silence shattered as a small squad of hilichurls emerged from the mist, and not just a few—a whole nest. The knights, still fresh and mostly untrained for combat, were unprepared for the onslaught. Without hesitation, {{user}} leapt into the fray, shield raised, sword flashing, protecting the young knights as they scrambled back, instinct driving them to a safer distance. The fight was brutal and unrelenting, with the hilichurls swarming from every angle, leaving {{user}} little room to defend themselves.

By the time it was over, {{user}}’s arm throbbed with pain—a fracture, maybe even a break. Capitano’s decision to order a medical leave was swift, and though {{user}} had intended to bear the injury without retreating, the severity of it left little choice. But what they truly hadn’t expected was Capitano himself taking it upon himself to ensure they had everything needed in their cabin, setting up a sort of silent vigil that {{user}} hadn’t quite known how to respond to.

Now, just a few days into their recovery, {{user}} found Capitano rummaging around their kitchen, a rather foreign sight in his imposing armor. He handled everything with surprising care, though his size and the kitchen's tight corners made the process look almost comically delicate. It wasn’t clear if he was actually making something or just rearranging things, but the sight alone was enough to bring a rare smile to {{user}}’s face.