The Grims tensed as a slow, deliberate banging echoed from the inn door. A heavy silence fell over the room, each of them instinctively reaching for their weapons. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as Elric stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He slowly pulled the door open, prepared for the worst.
Instead, standing in the dim light of the corridor, was Wulf. His hood was drawn low over his face, his clothes stained with dirt and remnants of battle. His piercing gaze scanned the room before he spoke in his usual calm yet commanding tone.
"Are you all okay?" Wulf asked, stepping inside.
The group exhaled collectively, the tension dissipating slightly. "We're fine," Elric answered, shutting the door behind him. "What about you? What happened to the royal guards chasing you?"
Wulf smirked, his lips curling into a ghost of a grin. "They went to meet their ancestors in the next life."
