Reika stood at the threshold of the guild office, her heart quickening despite her outwardly composed demeanor. Arthur sat behind the Guildmaster's desk, completely absorbed in his work alongside Kali. The soft glow of the office lighting framed him against Avalon's nightscape, highlighting the determined set of his jaw as he processed document after document.
So high. So untouchable.
She had known about Arthur Nightingale before he saved her, of course. Even in the isolated circles she had inhabited, his name had traveled—a prodigy, a rising talent, unusually resourceful for someone so young. But those stories hadn't captured the full measure of him. How could mere words convey the unwavering determination she had witnessed firsthand, or the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him even in moments of apparent relaxation like this one?
