The following morning arrived swiftly. Asher's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft caress of sunlight streaming through the window. He sat up slowly, stretching with a yawn, savoring the tranquil comfort of the moment.
His gaze swept across the room, lavish in every detail, a testament to the opulence promised by its extravagant price of one hundred gold coins. Yet, even in all its grandeur, it still paled in comparison to his room in the Wargrave estate.
Asher remained seated on the bed for a brief moment before finally rising to his feet. Yet, the instant his soles touched the ground, a knock echoed sharply through the room.
'Can I at least take a step before you knock, Lyra?' he thought, exhaling mentally in mild exasperation.
"Come in, Lyra," he called out.
The door opened with practiced grace, and Lyra entered, her expression composed, her smile gentle.
"Good morning, Young Master. I trust you slept well?" she asked with quiet warmth.
