A few days had passed. One morning, inside the guildhall of the adventurer's guild of the kingdom of Orjee, Killian, Shyla, Mob, and Grunt were sitting on one of the wooden tables, staring at each other.
On the table was a letter; it was from Titsirina.
Mob slowly exhaled. "She's not coming... again." He shook his head. "Titsirina said we should take a break from adventuring. She said she'd need to take care of something first before joining us on our quests."
"Given that she didn't even disclose the issue, it only means that she knows that we can't do anything to help her with her problem," Grunt said.
"I hope she didn't get fed up with us and decided we were not worth her time," Shyla said. Sadness was audible in her voice.
"We all know that's not the case. Titsirina would never do that to us, her friends. She's different from other nobles," Mob countered. "She's different from them." He nodded as if he were assuring himself rather than Shyla.