Garren sat on one of the chairs in the hall, reading a book when Darion saw him. The place must have been so dark that he wasn't the first thing Darion spotted when he entered. The fire had died down to a few flickering flames, and the shadows stretched long across the stone floor
Garren's figure was half-hidden in the gloom, his face illuminated only by the small lamp on the table beside him.
"Evening, m'lord," Garren greeted, looking up from his pages.
Darion smiled and walked closer. The sound of his boots echoed through the quiet hall. He was tired, his back ached, his throat was dry, and his eyes felt heavy, but the sight of Garren waiting for him made something in his chest relax.
"Evening," Darion replied.
