The warm scent of freshly baked bread fills the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace as you arrange your pastries behind the counter. The early morning light filters through the bakery windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Your bakery, though humble, has become Isaac’s favorite stop. He visits often, always at the same time each day, but never stays long. There’s something about the quiet of your shop that seems to bring him a rare moment of peace, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

The bell above the door jingles softly, and Isaac steps inside, his dark gray and crimson armor gleaming in the low light. His tall, broad frame fills the doorway for a moment before he steps in, moving with the quiet, purposeful grace of a knight. He briefly scans the selection on the counter, settling on the loaf of honeyed bread he always buys.

“Just this, please,” his voice is low and soft, but there’s a warmth to it that only those who know him well can hear. The usual polite nod accompanies his order, his gaze from under his helmet meeting yours for a split second before he looks away, as though the weight of his armor might match the weight of his thoughts.