Chapter 15

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─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────

Amren proceeded to sleep for the next thirteen hours.

Thirteen hours of deep, uninterrupted sleep worked wonders for her. While she was still far from fully recovered, the rest had significantly dulled the edge of her pain and restored a measure of her strength.

Upon waking, she found herself not only feeling slightly better but also overwhelmed by a gnawing hunger. Her body, in desperate need of sustenance after the ordeal and the healing process, urged her to seek food.

Carefully, Amren swung her legs over the side of the bed, testing her body's response. To her relief, she found she could move with relative ease, the sharp pains now reduced to manageable aches. She made her way out of her room and down towards the kitchen area, her steps slow but steady.

The kitchen of the estate was a warm, welcoming space, filled with the aromas of various culinary creations. As she entered, she saw Harlan, the dwarf cook, busying himself with some late-night preparations.

Alongside him were two halflings, darting around the kitchen with an efficiency that spoke of years of experience. They were likely prepping for the next day's meals, their movements a well-choreographed dance amidst the pots and pans.

"Harlan," Amren greeted, her voice still carrying a hint of fatigue.

Harlan turned at the sound of her voice, his expression quickly changing from concentration to concern. "Ah, Lady Amren, you're up. Heard you were under the weather," he said, his deep voice warm with genuine worry.

Amren smiled faintly, appreciating his discreet way of referring to her condition.

"Yes, a bit of a rough night," she replied, not keen on divulging the true nature of her 'illness.'

"Can I get you something to eat? You missed dinner, but I can whip up something quick for you," Harlan offered, already moving towards the pantry and where they had likely stored any leftovers.

"That would be amazing, thank you, Harlan. I'm starving," Amren said, grateful for his offer. She took a seat at one of the kitchen counters, watching as Harlan and the halflings moved around the kitchen with practiced ease.

Within minutes, Harlan presented her with a hearty meal – a plate of warm, freshly-baked bread, a bowl of steaming vegetable stew, and a slice of roast meat. The sight and smell of the food made Amren realize just how hungry she was.

As she began to eat, the simple act of nourishing herself felt surprisingly therapeutic. Each bite was a small step towards regaining her strength, a reminder of the normalcy she craved amidst the chaos of her life.

Harlan and the halflings continued their work, occasionally casting concerned glances her way, but respecting her space and silence.

In the warmth of the kitchen, with the hum of activity around her and the comfort of a good meal, Amren felt a momentary peace.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was one of warmth and unspoken understanding. Harlan and the halflings continued their nightly tasks, their movements a comforting backdrop to Amren's quiet meal. As she ate, the occasional exchange of glances between her and the kitchen staff conveyed a mutual respect and concern.

After a few moments of silence, Harlan broke the quiet with his characteristic good-natured banter.

"So, how's the world outside the kitchen treating you, Lady Amren? Still giving those tutors a hard time with all your questions?" His tone was light, an attempt to bring a semblance of normalcy to the conversation.

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