The sunlight was already mocking him.
Kaelen winced as he stepped out of the Ashen Boar, shielding his eyes from the unforgiving morning glare. A breeze ruffled his shirt, he hadn't even buttoned it right. One side hung loose like a defeated flag. His belt was crooked. His hair, a mop of black mess, looked like it lost a brawl with his pillow.
And he was late.
Very late.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Kaelen muttered, sprinting through the narrow cobbled streets of the sleepy town nestled at Frahein's edge. "He's gonna roast me. Literally. I saw him butter a pan last night."
His boots slapped against the stone path as he darted toward the central marketplace, dodging an old woman with a basket, nearly trampling a child chasing a chicken, and whispering apologies he didn't mean.
The marketplace was already half empty.
Stalls stood bare, crates empty, vendors packing up with satisfied expressions and (XP)coin-heavy aprons.
