Perhaps feeling the touch, Balin’s thick brows twitched slightly before he slowly opened his eyes. As the initial haze of sleep receded and he saw Yggdrasil awake, an explosion of disbelief, overwhelming joy, and profound relief erupted in his gaze.

  "Yuga!" Balin’s voice was raspy, laden with the fatigue of a sleepless night, yet filled with the agitation of someone who had recovered a lost treasure. "You’re finally awake! How… how do you feel?" He leaned in almost instantly, his massive hand carefully brushing against Yggdrasil’s forehead before moving as if to check for invisible wounds.

  "I’m fine… just a bit tired." Yggdrasil offered a weak smile, turning his hand over to clasp Balin’s. "How long was I out?"

  "A full day and night!" Balin said with exaggerated emphasis, his tone still tinged with lingering fear. "You were out like a stone! No matter how I called, you wouldn’t wake. You scared the life out of me!" He paused, remembering more urgent matters, his expression turning solemn. "While you were sleeping, Lord Eric and Chairman Hagre came by several times. They were… very worried about you. Outside… the Lord’s Manor has stationed an attendant at the door. They said the moment you wake, they must be notified immediately."

  A day and a night… Yggdrasil was slightly surprised. Almost immediately, a sharp pang of hunger rose from his stomach—the best evidence that his vitality was returning. Looking at Balin’s face, etched with worry, he couldn't help but tug at Balin’s sleeve like a child. In a docile tone, mixed with exhaustion and a hint of a pampered plea, he murmured, "Balin… I’m hungry… so hungry… Can we eat first? I need the strength before I can face them…"

  Seeing Yggdrasil reveal such a rare, dependent, and slightly willful expression, Balin’s heart melted into a soft puddle. All the previous anxieties and the crushing weight of the battlefield seemed to dissipate with those few words. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle, reaching out to roughly but affectionately rub Yggdrasil’s mop of fluffy brown hair.

  "Alright, alright. My great hero says he’s hungry; even if the sky falls, we eat first!" Balin said dotingly, standing up immediately. "Stay here. I’ll go tell the fellow at the door."

  Balin opened the door and spoke to the solemn attendant from the Lord's Manor in a tone that brooked no argument. "He’s awake. He’s fine, but he needs to eat to regain his strength first. Go back and report to your master. Tell Lord Eric and Chairman Hagre that once we’ve had breakfast, we’ll head straight to the Adventurer’s Guild to find them."

  The attendant blinked, seemingly stunned that the "Exarch’s" first act upon waking wasn't to receive reports or audiences, but to eat. However, looking at Balin’s imposing, authoritative presence, he dared not question it. He offered a respectful bow and hurried away.

  Balin turned back, helping the still-weak Yggdrasil to his feet and draping an outer coat over his shoulders. "Let’s go. The breakfast beast-meat porridge at the Mountain Alehouse is exceptional. It’ll put the strength back in your bones."

  The two walked side-by-side through the early morning streets. Kalgurem was slowly waking from the nightmare of the previous night. The air still carried a faint scent of smoke, and scars of the battle—damaged buildings, soldiers clearing barricades, and citizens tending to the wounded—were visible everywhere.

  But as Yggdrasil and Balin passed, the atmosphere shifted perceptibly.

  The earth-shaking divine radiance of Yggdrasil had receded; he now appeared as nothing more than a tired, stout, and robust dwarf. But the image of that night—the manifestation of the six wings, the summoning of the angelic host, the healing of the masses, and the purification of the field—was a miracle branded into the heart of every survivor.

  Whenever they passed, the crowds fell into a reverent hush.

  Soldiers hauling stones stopped in their tracks, instinctively straightening their backs. Citizens who had been whispering fell silent, parting to the sides to create a wide path. Some bowed their heads, not daring to look directly, murmuring ancient prayers under their breath. Others, their eyes burning with fanaticism, knelt directly onto the cold stone floor.

  They whispered in trembling voices: "Lord Exarch…" "Successor of Brom Stoneheart…" "Thank you for our salvation…"

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  Yggdrasil was overwhelmed by this sudden, tidal wave of awe. He instinctively tried to avoid the gazes, leaning closer to Balin’s side. He simply held Balin’s hand tightly, finding a familiar anchor in the unchanging warmth and strength of that palm amidst this strange sea of reverence.

  Balin felt his discomfort. He didn't say a word, but his grip tightened, and he used his broad shoulders to skillfully shield Yggdrasil from the most fervent gazes.

  Finally, they entered the Mountain Alehouse. Usually, it was a place of boisterous laughter, the scent of ale, and roasting meat, but today the air was different.

  The moment they stepped inside, the chatter in the room was seized by an invisible command and ceased instantly. Miners lowered their mugs; adventurers stopped sharpening their blades; women stopped their gossiping. Dozens of gazes—a mixture of surprise, awe, curiosity, and even a trace of imperceptible fear—turned simultaneously toward Yggdrasil.

  When the landlady saw them, the smile on her face froze, replaced by extreme nervousness and respect. Before she could even wipe the flour from her apron, she practically jogged forward and gave Yggdrasil a bow so deep it was nearly ninety degrees.

  "Lo... Lord Yggdrasil… Master Balin… Welcome! Please, please, sit anywhere! Today’s breakfast is on the house! It is my honor, please, you must accept!" Her voice trembled slightly.

  Yggdrasil began to decline, but Balin was quicker, grinning as he spoke to the landlady. "Much appreciated, ma'am! We accept your kindness!" Without giving Yggdrasil a chance to argue, he pressed a hand to his shoulder, guiding him with a firm but tender touch into the innermost booth against the wall. "You, don't be so polite." Balin leaned down, whispering into Yggdrasil’s ear with a playful glint in his eyes, "The lady wants to honor you. She’s celebrating her 'Savior.' Just sit back and let me 'take care' of you today, hmm?" He emphasized the words "Savior" and "take care" with a mischievous, doting look.

  Soon, the landlady personally brought out two steaming bowls of breakfast—thick beast-meat porridge accompanied by sizzling, thick cuts of roasted meat and toasted black bread. The aroma was mouth-watering. She carefully placed a portion before Yggdrasil and poured two cups of warm oat-milk.

  "Please enjoy, My Lord, Master Balin." She bowed again and retreated with a sense of formality, though her eyes still stole reverent glances at Yggdrasil.

  Looking at the feast before Yggdrasil, Balin didn't wait for him to start. He naturally picked up Yggdrasil’s spoon, scooped a portion of the thick porridge and meat, blew on it to cool it down, and held it directly to Yggdrasil’s lips.

  "Come on, open up. Say 'Ah—'." Balin’s tone was playfully tender, but his eyes were serious. "You need to eat your fill today. I don't want our great Exarch’s stomach growling in front of the Lord and the Chairman later."

  "Mmf…!" Yggdrasil’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson, the heat spreading to his very ears. He instinctively glanced around, noticing everyone in the alehouse stealing curious and reverent looks at them. It made him so embarrassed he wanted to sink into the floor. But under Balin’s insistent gaze and gentle urging, he finally, awkwardly, opened his mouth and took the first spoonful.

  The warm porridge slid into his stomach, bringing a long-awaited comfort. His cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed, his eyes darting upward to look at Balin’s smugly smiling face, looking very much like a pampered child who didn't know how to handle the affection.

  "You… you’re being too flashy…" he mumbled a soft complaint, his voice like a tiny hum, yet he did nothing to stop the next spoonful.

  Balin looked at his shy, submissive expression, his face breaking into a satisfied grin. He scooped another portion. "Who told you to be so cute? So cute I just want to keep you fed." Then came a third spoonful, then a fourth, each one delivered as if he were feeding a rare treasure, filled with patience and love.

  Yggdrasil resisted at first, but he soon surrendered to Balin’s gentle assault and the rising warmth in his belly. He obediently took bite after bite.

  Balin’s tone was light with laughter as his free hand slid around Yggdrasil’s back, pulling him closer until there was no gap between them. He even leaned down, using his own thick, coarse beard to lightly nuzzle Yggdrasil’s equally dense silver-white beard. He lowered his voice to a whisper meant only for the two of them. "You exerted yourself so much the night before last. If you don't eat up today, I’m worried you’ll collapse in my arms again this afternoon."

  The suggestively intimate words made Yggdrasil’s face burn even hotter. He tried to push against that overly close, radiating chest, but found he could not move that mountain-like, firm, and tender embrace. Finally, he could only bury his face into Balin’s thick, warm chest in mock annoyance, muttering, "…I’ve really had enough of you."

  But the complaint in his voice was already replaced by the uncontrollable upward curve of his lips and the sense of security filling his heart.

  The people around them watched the scene with quiet goodwill. Looking at them, some remembered the tragedy and despair of the previous night, then looked at this warm, domestic scene, and found their eyes welling with tears. Others clasped their hands in prayer, thanking the heavens for this hard-won peace. Still others were already whispering, recounting—even embellishing—the mythic events of that night: the ring of fire that consumed all, the falling stars of judgment, the opening of the heavenly gates, and the descent of a hundred angels…

  The "Exarch" of their stories was, at this moment, like a spoiled, fluffy bear, nestled safely in the arms of his partner, enjoying a belated, love-filled breakfast.