The sun hung low over the cobbled streets of Rivennhold as our carriage finally rolled into town. The familiar chatter of merchants and clangs of the blacksmith's forge welcomed us back like an old friend. We were bruised, bloodstained, and bone-weary—but victorious.
Inside the guild hall, cheers erupted as we walked through the doors. The receptionist—an older catfolk woman with a stern face—smiled as we dropped the carved golem core onto her desk with a heavy thunk.
"Mission complete," Zion said simply, standing tall beside me in her gleaming armor.
"Excellent work," the receptionist nodded. "The town's been worried about that thing for weeks. This bounty's a hefty one."
The reward was substantial: sacks of gold, a few rare materials, and vouchers for supplies, lodging, and hot meals. The moment the paperwork was signed and the payment handed over, the girls practically lit up.
"I'm going shopping," Frye announced, spinning on her heel with the gold pouch swinging from her belt. "Cute boots await me."
"Iris, come with me," she added with a teasing grin. "You need something less 'goddess' and more 'girlfriend.'"
Iris tilted her head. "I… suppose I could look."
"I'm going to grab meat," Mochi said bluntly, cracking her knuckles. "And beer. And then more meat."
Zion, ever composed, slid her coin pouch into her satchel. "I'll find a forge. My sword chipped against that golem."
"Should we meet at the tavern?" Iris asked.
"Later tonight," Zion nodded. "After we've relaxed."
The four of them turned, chattering, laughing, their hips swaying, their hair catching the golden light as they disappeared into the street—off to enjoy the fruits of our labor.
And I stood there, still holding the supplies we hadn't unpacked yet.
"…Right," I muttered, adjusting the strap on my shoulder. "I'll… get things ready."
Our room at the tavern wasn't grand—just a shared space above the bar with five beds, some shelves, and a single tub—but it was home. When I got there, the beds were still in disarray from the rushed departure earlier that morning. Clothes had been flung aside, gear lay scattered, and empty bottles of potions littered the floor.
I sighed.
I set down the bags and started.
First came organizing the gear—bows and arrows in one corner, swords cleaned and stacked, my staff propped carefully on its stand. Zion's shield went near the foot of her bed, right where she liked it.
Then I gathered up the girls' clothing, folding what I could, brushing off dirt and rogue bits of monster gunk. Frye's top smelled faintly like mint and pine; Iris's white gloves were still soft, barely used. Mochi's fur-trimmed outfit was a tangled mess of straps and fluff, and her chains jingled every time I tried to fold them neatly. Zion's underarmor was surprisingly dainty—elegant lace beneath all that steel.
I tried not to think about that.
After that, I swept the floor, refilled the water basin, shook out the bedsheets, and laid out clean towels. I even lit a few candles to soften the lighting and opened a window to let the cool evening breeze in.
It took hours.
By the time I finished, my arms were shaking. I collapsed to my knees near the foot of my bed, the last pillow still in my hand. My body ached from battle and chores both. My eyes fluttered closed.
When the door creaked open, I was already asleep.
---
Zion entered first, pushing the door open with the back of her gauntlet. She was still dressed in armor, hair slightly damp from washing at the public baths, a fresh bag of supplies at her side.
The room was… perfect.
The beds were made. Their weapons were polished. The lanterns flickered softly. Even the boots were lined up in pairs.
And at the center of it all, slumped against the bedframe, was me—completely out cold, arms limp, head tilted slightly, chest rising and falling with deep, exhausted breaths.
Zion stared in silence.
Then Frye burst in behind her. "Whew! I got the cutest dress—wait, what the hell?"
She stopped dead at the sight of me, jaw slowly dropping.
"He did all this?" Frye said in disbelief, stepping inside. "While we were out goofing off?"
Mochi pushed past them next, still gnawing on the last bone of some roasted animal. She froze when she saw me.
"…He cleaned. Everything."
Iris entered last, her golden hair glimmering in the dim light. She gasped quietly when she saw me slumped over.
"He's shaking," she whispered, rushing forward and kneeling at my side. "He's still exhausted."
She reached for my forehead gently, brushing my hair back with her gloved hand. "You shouldn't have pushed yourself this far…"
Zion stepped forward and crouched down, watching me in silence. "He cleaned our mess. After risking his life."
"I thought he'd be napping with his feet up, eating snacks," Frye admitted, biting her lip. "Not… this."
Mochi knelt beside me too, her ears drooping slightly. "He's always doing this. Trying to carry things. Alone."
Iris wrapped a soft blanket over my shoulders. "He… never complains."
Zion looked down for a moment, then slowly pulled off one gauntlet and set it aside. She reached forward, tugging me gently onto the bed. I stirred faintly but didn't wake. My head rested against the pillow she fluffed, and she carefully removed my boots.
"He needs rest," she said firmly. "Tonight, we don't argue. We don't fight."
Frye nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed and brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "Tomorrow, we pamper him. No exceptions."
Mochi leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, tail flicking. "He's our Master. And we let him wear himself out like this…"
Iris placed a kiss on my forehead. "We won't make that mistake again."
They each took a place around the room—quiet, subdued, watching over me as I slept. No teasing. No fighting. Just the four of them, united in the guilt and warmth of the moment.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
Inside, I slept with a faint smile—unaware of the way the women I loved were looking at me now, like I was the rarest treasure they'd ever found.