Michael smiled back, but their moment of peace was interrupted by a grumbling voice from the edge of the courtyard. It belonged to Aaron's old comrade, Derrick.
"Stop showing off and call the healers, you crazy old man!" Derrick's grumbling voice broke the tension, and laughter erupted across the courtyard. Among the wounded, playful gripes and banter began to spread, cutting through the lingering solemnity.
Michael, with his practiced social charm, moved among the fallen warriors, helping them to their feet and lightening the atmosphere with jokes. As they laughed and exchanged camaraderie, the remnants of bitterness faded, replaced by a newfound bond of brotherhood.
One grizzled veteran, his face alight with humor despite the scorch marks and cuts on his armor, turned to Michael with a wide grin.
"You're truly something, young man. Are you married, by chance? I have a great-granddaughter who's a stunning beauty—refined and intelligent. You'd be perfect for her."
