The small, sturdy house belonging to Captain Jacobs, usually a bastion of practical military neatness and quiet domesticity, hummed with an uncharacteristic vibrancy today. Sunlight, slanting through the leaded glass panes of the front window, illuminated dust motes dancing in the warm air, painting shifting patterns across the familiar wooden floorboards, worn smooth by years of Jacobs's heavy tread and Laura's brisk housekeeping. But today, the familiar space was transformed.
Colorful ribbons, sourced from some cheerful merchant stall in East Aerion's market district, looped and swayed along the sturdy, exposed timber beams overhead and down the warm wood paneling of the walls. Sophia, her usual focused intensity softened by a gentle smile, moved with quiet grace, skillfully weaving strands of sapphire blue and celebratory gold, securing them with small, hidden pins. Interspersed between the ribbons were clusters of wildflowers - resilient little bursts of purple thistle, sunny yellow buttercups, and delicate white Queen Anne's lace - freshly gathered from the fields bordering the garrison road. Their simple, wild beauty offered a poignant contrast to the martial reality that defined their lives, lending an air of fragile festivity, a touch of ephemeral softness to the rugged cottage.
The preparations had been underway since early morning. Henry, feeling a complex mixture of gratitude, relief, and a sharp pang of impending separation, had approached Jacobs days earlier, the idea forming hesitantly in his mind. A farewell. Not just for him and Sophia, whose paths were now irrevocably diverging from the unit they'd called home, but a chance to acknowledge the bonds forged in shared hardship, the quiet loyalty that had sustained them through horrors like the Lykuzt cave and the crushing terror of the Bandit Graveyard. Jacobs, despite his recent promotion to Rank 4 and the newfound gravity that seemed to accompany it, had agreed readily, his gruff exterior melting into the familiar warmth of the mentor, the 'elder brother' Henry had come to rely on. He'd offered his home without hesitation, Laura instantly seconding the motion, her practical nature immediately turning to logistics.
And Henry, drawing on the significantly increased pay promised by his pending transfer to the Bureau - a future still feeling unreal, slightly daunting - insisted on covering every expense. It felt right, necessary. From the generous spread of food ordered with specific instructions from the Dunlyre Tavern, their usual haunt now acting as caterer, to the casks of ale and flagons of the sweet fruit beer Sophia favored, this was his tangible expression of thanks. A small gesture against the backdrop of life-and-death struggles, perhaps, but a meaningful one. Every crow spent felt like repaying a debt - not just for missions survived, but for the quiet camaraderie, the acceptance, the sense of belonging he'd found within Squad 18 after years adrift.
He and Sophia had arrived early, slipping away from the rigid routine of the barracks after their return from the quiet valley cottage where Henry had revisited a painful piece of his past, and where Sophia had accepted his simple gold band. That shared secret, the unspoken promise sealed in that quiet moment, lent a new intimacy to their interactions, a subtle luminescence that seemed to follow them even as they busied themselves with party preparations. Being here, together, working side-by-side in the mundane tasks of arranging tables and hanging decorations, felt precious. A stolen moment of normalcy before their worlds shifted again. The knowledge that these easy gatherings, these moments of shared laughter and quiet understanding with the squad, would soon become rarities, added a bittersweet edge to the day. New paths beckoned, promising opportunities and challenges, but the comfort of the familiar pack, the unspoken language forged in battle, would be keenly missed.
As Sophia carefully adjusted a spray of wildflowers tucked into a ribbon loop near the hearth, Laura, Jacobs's wife, bustled over, wiping her hands on her apron. Laura possessed a practical, no-nonsense energy, her sharp eyes missing little, her tongue often just as sharp, though usually softened by genuine affection. She paused, pretending to inspect Sophia's handiwork, but her gaze was fixed, deliberately, pointedly, on Sophia's left hand. A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes.
"Nicely done, Sophia," Laura commented, her voice laced with playful scrutiny. "Adds a bit of life to this old soldier's den." She waited a beat, then let her gaze drift pointedly down to Sophia's ring finger, where the simple, warm gleam of the plain gold band Henry had given her rested. Laura's eyebrow arched in silent, knowing inquiry.
A soft blush crept up Sophia's neck, warming her cheeks. Caught, she offered Laura a shy but radiant smile, lowering her gaze for a moment before meeting Laura's teasing look with a small, confirming nod. The happiness bubbling inside her was impossible to conceal entirely.
Laura's face broke into a broad, delighted grin. "Well, it's about time!" she declared, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her pleasure was evident. "Took that boy long enough to finally ask! Must have been those last few dangerous missions, eh? Put the fear of losing you into him properly!" She glanced across the room towards Henry, who was currently wrestling with positioning the main trestle table, oblivious to their conversation.
"I… I don't know about that," Sophia murmured, her own gaze drifting towards Henry, filled with an uncomplicated affection that seemed to light her from within. "I'm just… very happy we can officially be together now." The word 'officially' still felt new, tentative, yet overwhelmingly wonderful.
Laura chuckled, reaching out to squeeze Sophia's arm affectionately. "Oh, I can see that. You look like you're floating on air, dear girl. Enjoy this time, soak it all in. It's a beautiful feeling." Her expression softened, a hint of nostalgic fondness in her eyes.
Sophia laughed softly, feeling a comfortable warmth spread through her. "I imagine you were much the same, once upon a time?" she countered gently, sensing the shared experience, the easy understanding between them.
"Ha! Perhaps," Laura conceded with a wry smile. "Though you seem to be spoiling that man of yours already. Letting him get away with proposing after nearly getting himself killed multiple times." She shook her head, though her tone was fond. "You'll need to be firm sometimes, Sophia. Come visit me after you're settled. I'll share a few… strategies. Men, even the best of them," she cast a loving, exasperated glance towards Jacobs, who was now attempting to arrange tankards with military precision, "can be terribly preoccupied. Work, duty… they forget what's waiting for them at home. Henry seems cut from the same cloth as my Jacobs in that regard."
Sophia listened, nodding slightly, appreciating Laura's candid advice, delivered with the easy familiarity of someone who had navigated the complexities of loving a soldier for years. She sensed the deep affection beneath the light complaints, the strong foundation of their marriage. "Thank you, Laura. I might just take you up on that."
"You do that," Laura winked. "Lord knows, sometimes you need an ally when dealing with these stubborn warriors. You'll figure it out soon enough once you're properly married. Hahaha! Just remember where to find me when you need reinforcements!" The shared laughter felt genuine, sealing a budding friendship.
Across the room, Henry, having finally wrestled the table into submission, noticed the women's shared smiles and Sophia's blush. He caught Jacobs's eye, who was now attempting, with dubious success, to polish a collection of prized liquor bottles Henry recognized from previous, rarer visits.
"Your marital life seems quite colorful, Captain," Henry commented dryly, approaching his mentor, a smirk playing on his lips. "Judging by the expressions over there."
Jacobs looked up from a particularly stubborn smudge on a dark rum bottle, following Henry's gaze. He grunted, a half-choked laugh escaping him. "Worry about your own neck first, boy. Willingly sticking it into the noose of matrimony at your age." He glanced towards Laura, however, and the fondness in his eyes mirrored Laura's earlier expression. The 'noose' was clearly one he wore gladly.
"Merely admiring your example, Captain," Henry retorted smoothly, leaning against the sturdy mantelpiece. He felt an unexpected ease, a rightness, in the banter. "Someone to warm the bed at night, someone to share the quiet hours with after the chaos… seems a worthwhile sentence."
"Aye, that it is," Jacobs conceded, setting the bottle down with a sigh that wasn't entirely feigned exhaustion. "And sometimes she even plays the role of a second, rather stricter, mother." He smiled openly now, a genuine, unguarded expression of affection for his wife that Henry rarely saw. It was a glimpse into the life Henry himself now hoped for, a life beyond the constant vigilance and violence of their profession.
The lighthearted exchange, touching on the simple, profound comforts of hearth and home, hung in the air for a moment, a quiet counterpoint to the rising noise as the first guests began to arrive.
One by one, then in pairs, the members of the newly expanded Heavy Reconnaissance Unit 18 filed in, bringing the boisterous energy of the barracks with them. Lumos's booming laugh echoed off the rafters as he ducked under the low doorway. Daniel offered a quiet nod, his usual stoicism softened by a rare, genuine smile. Melly bounced in, her fiery red hair catching the light, immediately engaging Laura in animated chatter. Torsan followed, looking slightly overwhelmed but clearly pleased to be included. Then came the newcomers - Larm, the taciturn axe-man, nodding respectfully to Jacobs; Egran, the observant swordsman, his eyes taking in the scene with quiet assessment; Mia, the archer, offering Sophia a warm smile; and the younger Rank 1s, Doug and Mark, looking eager and slightly intimidated.
The small cottage quickly filled with the comfortable chaos of soldiers at ease. Tankards were filled, plates were piled high from the initial offerings Laura had laid out. Congratulations flowed freely towards Henry and Sophia, mixed with the usual rough-edged teasing.
"Finally made an honest woman of her, eh, Henry?" Lumos clapped him hard on the back, nearly sending Henry stumbling.
"Saw the ring, Sophia! About time!" Melly chirped, already reaching for Sophia's hand.
Daniel simply raised his mug. "To happiness. And survival." A sentiment echoed quietly by the others.
Talk inevitably turned to the Bandit Graveyard mission, the shared ordeal still fresh, casting a long shadow even amidst the celebration. Voices lowered slightly as they recounted specific moments - the shock of the traps, the relentless assault of the second wave, Harold's blinding holy light, Nathan's steadfast defense before his tragic end, the emergence of the monstrous Host, the Priest's desperate ritual, the final, terrifying appearance of the Primal Undead, and the inexplicable gray mist that had saved and felled them simultaneously. They spoke of Nathan and Father Bern with quiet respect, raising their mugs in somber salute. Losses were part of their lives, but the sting remained.
Yet, intertwined with the grim recollections was a undeniable current of fierce pride, of exhilaration. They had faced impossible odds, stared into the abyss, and somehow, impossibly, survived. More than survived - they had grown.
"Felt it, didn't you?" Larm, the veteran newcomer, rumbled, looking around the table. "That push. Fighting something that far above your Rank… forces something inside you to change."
"Daniel's next for the ascension ritual," Jacobs announced, drawing appreciative murmurs. "Command reviewed the after-action reports. Facing down that Host, holding the line… it accelerated things for several of you." He nodded towards Melly and Torsan. "You two as well. Keep pushing."
The knowledge that their brush with annihilation had yielded tangible results - accelerated promotions, a surge in their own aether - was a potent balm. In their world, strength was survival. The price had been high, but the reward, the potential for growth, was undeniable. It was the harsh arithmetic of their existence, the grim reality they embraced every time they donned their armor.
As the initial flurry of war stories subsided, replaced by more relaxed chatter and the serious business of attacking the Dunlyre's impressive catering, Melly, never one to let an opportunity for mischief pass, suddenly seized Sophia's left hand again, holding it aloft dramatically.
"Alright, alright, enough about monsters!" she declared loudly, silencing the immediate conversations around them. "Look here, everyone! Official confirmation! Wedding bells are definitely in the future for Squad… well, Unit 18!"
A fresh wave of cheers and whistles erupted. Sophia flushed crimson, trying vainly to pull her hand back, but Melly held firm, grinning triumphantly.
"So," Lumos boomed, leaning across the table, "when's the happy day? And more importantly, do we need to start saving up for wedding gifts now?"
Daniel chuckled softly. "Moving quickly, aren't you? New postings, new rings… planning on setting up house together immediately?" He directed the question primarily at Henry, his eyes twinkling.
Mia, the graceful archer, smiled warmly. "So, this isn't just a farewell party, but an engagement announcement too! How wonderful!"
Sophia buried her face in her hands for a moment, half-laughing, half-embarrassed, though the genuine warmth and happiness radiating from her friends were undeniable. She cherished their camaraderie, their acceptance. While she and Henry preferred their privacy, sharing this joy, being showered with the boisterous, heartfelt blessings of their chosen family, felt unexpectedly sweet.
Henry cleared his throat, drawing the attention. He met the expectant, teasing faces around the table, a slow smile spreading across his own features. "Sophia and I are merely… setting an example," he announced, his tone mock-serious, his gaze sweeping deliberately over Daniel and Melly. "We're hoping Unit 18 sees a few more such celebrations in the near future!"
His words hit their mark. Melly instantly stopped grinning, her own cheeks flushing as she avoided Daniel's suddenly intense gaze. Even Torsan seemed to blush slightly, perhaps thinking of some undeclared garrison crush.
Henry chuckled inwardly. The intricate dynamics of the squad's personal lives were almost as complex as any battlefield strategy. Melly and Daniel's slow-burn connection was obvious to everyone except, perhaps, themselves. Now, with the addition of new faces, including two more eligible women reportedly joining other sections of the expanded unit… Jacobs was indeed going to have his hands full managing more than just mission rosters. Henry pictured future unit briefings punctuated by awkward silences and meaningful glances. The thought was strangely amusing.
The party continued, fueled by good food, strong drink, and the potent relief of survival. Stories were retold, jokes exchanged, futures speculated upon. The warmth of the small cottage, filled with the rough fellowship of soldiers, felt like a sanctuary against the encroaching shadows of the world outside, a brief, bright flame flickering defiantly against the inevitable darkness. For tonight, at least, they were whole, together, celebrating life in the very face of death. And for Henry, holding Sophia's hand under the table, the future, though uncertain and undoubtedly perilous, held a promise of shared light he wouldn't relinquish.