Julius massaged his head as he awoke, staring at the familiar ceiling of his room.
The wood above him creaked faintly in the cold air of the base. His body was wrapped in fresh bandages, clean and tight, and while they restricted his movements slightly, he was surprised at how little pain he felt now.
The dull ache of yesterday's battle had dulled into a faint sting, something manageable.
'Actually getting hurled into a crater hurts like hell,' he thought grimly, rolling his stiff shoulders.
His gaze drifted to the chair at the side of the bed where his clothes had been folded neatly.
A faint warmth touched his chest, though he quickly pushed it away. He could imagine Veyra being the one to fold them; she was annoyingly sentimental like that.
Except, no — he remembered clearly. Anthony had been the one who finished bandaging him.
Veyra had been too busy fawning over Azel, her hair practically glowing as she praised the man's swordsmanship like an overeager child.
