Later that evening, the door to Tim’s chamber slid open with a soft hiss, and Jose strode in as if the room had been waiting for him. His spurs jingled faintly against the metallic floor, each step carrying the swagger of a man who treated every entrance like a stage cue.

  “?Olà, Cap’n!” he announced, his Spanish accent rolling warm and smooth, every syllable dipped in charisma and just a hint of mischief.

  Tim looked up, and the tension in his shoulders eased.

  “Jose,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If it isn’t the heartbeat of our group.”

  Jose grinned, that effortless, flamboyant grin that could brighten even the darkest corners of Mons Olympus. He had a way of filling a room, not with noise, but with presence. A spark. A warmth. A reminder that joy still existed, even in a world at war.

  Tim’s thoughts drifted briefly to their first encounter.

  His rapier isn’t just for show, Tim mused.

  The man dances around demons like they’re partners in a tango. Even blade singers would envy that grace.

  But Jose was more than a performer in war’s theater.

  He was Yume’s first lieutenant.

  Tim’s closest male friend.

  A person he trusted to watch his back in a fight.

  Beneath the flair and theatrics, Jose carried a quiet wisdom, a depth that revealed itself in unexpected moments. He was the glue that held the Knights together, the one who could find humor in the bleakest situations, the one who read people with uncanny accuracy.

  Sometimes uncomfortably so.

  Tim smirked into his drink, candlelight flickering across his eyes.

  Yeah… without Jose, I don’t know where I’d be.

  The chamber around them was warm and cluttered, a large mahogany desk buried beneath scrolls and maps, a testament to Tim’s constant strategizing. His ancient katana rested in its stand, runes glowing softly beneath the chandelier’s crystalline light.

  “Just checkin’ on you,” Jose said, flopping into the chair opposite him with the ease of a man who belonged in every room he entered.

  Tim chuckled, watching the way Jose’s polished armor caught the light like silver under starlight.

  He reached into a carved wooden cabinet, a gift from the hidden elven village, and retrieved a bottle of fine dwarf whiskey. The amber liquid glinted as he pulled the cork free with a satisfying pop.

  “What can I do for you, amigo?” Tim asked, pouring two generous measures into ornate crystal goblets.

  Jose accepted his with a smile that was just a little too knowing.

  A smile Tim had seen before, usually right before Jose said something he absolutely shouldn’t.

  “To the battles won,” Tim toasted, “and those yet to come.”

  They drank. The whiskey burned warm and smooth, settling into their bones like an old friend.

  “Aah, Jefe,” Jose sighed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You always serve the best cervezas.”

  But then his expression shifted, still playful, but edged with something sharper. Something perceptive.

  He swirled the whiskey in his glass, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Tim uneasy.

  “So…” Jose began, voice lilting, “what’s the deal with you and the lovely se?orita Yume?”

  Tim froze.

  His hand hovered over the bottle, the amber liquid reflecting the uncertainty twisting in his gut. He drained his glass, refilled it, and leaned back in his chair, trying to look composed.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, though his voice betrayed him, too careful, too cautious.

  Jose tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in a look that said please, Jefe, don’t insult me.

  “You and Yume,” he repeated, smirk widening. “It’s not just duty between you two.”

  Tim opened his mouth, then closed it.

  He tried again.

  “We’re knights,” he said finally. “We share a duty to this world.”

  But even as he spoke, his gaze drifted.

  The shadows on his face told another story entirely.

  Jose didn’t need to say a word.

  He just looked at Tim, really looked, and the truth was obvious.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Tim sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “I feel something for her, yes. She reminds me a lot of my wife. But it’s… complicated.”

  Elora’s name hovered in the air before he even spoke it.

  “There’s Elora,” he whispered, the memory of her laughter echoing faintly in the corners of his mind. “My heart is torn.”

  Jose waved a hand dismissively, though his eyes softened.

  “Jefe, I don’t mean to pry,” he said, which was a lie, and they both knew it.

  “But it’s as clear as the waters of the Aether River that there’s something more between you two.”

  He leaned back dramatically, stretching like a cat preparing for a performance.

  “You both light up when you’re together. Even when you’re arguing.”

  He grinned wickedly.

  “And when she calls you ‘Timotei’ in battle? Ay, Dios mío. That’s not strategy. That’s claiming you like a dragon claiming treasure.”

  Tim choked on his drink.

  Jose laughed, loud, theatrical, delighted.

  Then he leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

  “We all have stories, Jefe. And Yume… she’s been through the wringer too. But the way she looks at you? That’s not just respect.”

  He tapped his chest.

  “That’s feeling.”

  Tim stared at him, stunned.

  “Yume? Feelings for me?”

  Jose sighed dramatically, raising his glass in mock pity.

  “Tim… you’re as observant as a bat in the midday sun.”

  He took a slow sip, savoring the moment.

  “Look at her eyes when she talks to you. The way she stands straighter when you walk into a room. A Spaniard can spot love from a mile away, and amigo… she’s smitten.”

  He paused, letting the words settle.

  “But love is a wild beast,” he added softly. “It doesn’t care about battles or prophecies. It only cares for the hearts it consumes.”

  Tim swallowed hard.

  “Even if what you say is true,” he murmured, “I’m heartbroken.”

  His gaze drifted again to the katana, the runes glowing faintly, a reminder of a life he had loved and lost.

  “I can’t just leave her behind,” he whispered. “Even if she is truly gone.”

  “Ahh, Jefe,” Jose sighed, the flamboyance softening around the edges, his usual spark dimmed only by understanding. He reached across the desk and set a firm hand on Tim’s shoulder, grounding him, pulling him back from the spiral of memory and grief.

  “I ain’t sayin’ you should forget your elf maiden,” he said, voice gentler than Tim was used to hearing from him. “But you can’t live in the shadow of what ifs.”

  He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the firelight as though it held the wisdom he was about to spill.

  “Yume is here. Now. Fightin’ beside us. Bleeding beside us. She’s a warrior, sí… but she’s also a woman. One with a heart that beats for you, whether you see it or not.”

  The words settled between them, heavy as armor Tim wasn’t sure he could lift.

  “And if today is her last day?” Jose’s voice dropped, losing all theatrics. “Wouldn’t you want her to know she’s loved?”

  His eyes, usually full of mischief, now burned with something deeper. Understanding. Loss. The kind of wisdom that only comes from heartbreak lived, not imagined.

  Tim looked up, meeting his friend’s gaze. A small, uncertain smile tugged at his lips.

  “So, what you’re saying,” he murmured, half?teasing, half?aching, “is if I can’t be with the one I love… I should love the one I’m with?”

  The line balanced between humor and sorrow, a reflection of the war inside him, duty versus desire, past versus present, Elora versus the possibility of something new.

  His gaze drifted to the elvish tapestry on the wall, a moonlit forest woven in silver thread. The place where he first felt love. Where Elora’s laughter warmed him like sunlight beneath ancient trees.

  That memory clung to him, bittersweet.

  Here he was now, in Mons Olympus, surrounded by steel and circuitry, among a new family forged in battle. And beside him, Yume… a leader he trusted, admired, and maybe, in some quiet corner of his heart, feared he could grow to love.

  The scent of whiskey and oiled steel filled the chamber, grounding him in the present even as the past tugged at him like a ghost.

  He ran a hand down the katana’s etched runes, a tether to Morefell, to Elora, to everything he had lost.

  But Jose’s words, warm as the whiskey in his chest, shifted something inside him.

  Something subtle.

  Something irreversible.

  He wasn’t sure he was ready to fight it.

  Jose chuckled, the sound rolling smooth and warm, like a Spanish guitar played under starlight. His eyes crinkled with amusement, but there was a softness there too, a quiet understanding Tim had never questioned, never needed explained.

  “Tim, my friend,” he drawled, swirling his whiskey, “I’m not sayin’ love is simple. You don’t shuffle it around like a deck of cards.”

  He leaned back, dramatic as ever, but the theatrics couldn’t hide the truth beneath.

  “Life twists. Turns. Rivers carve new paths. Sometimes the straight road ain’t the one that leads you where you’re meant to be.”

  He took another sip, gaze thoughtful, the look of a man who had lived his own unexpected paths, his own quiet heartbreaks. Tim had always sensed it. Jose never said it. He didn’t need to.

  “Yume,” he said, rolling her name like something treasured, “she’s a fine woman. A warrior with a heart as fiery as the sun. And she’s chosen to stand beside you.”

  He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle.

  “Can’t you see the potential for somethin’ beautiful there?”

  Shadows danced across the walls like old spirits whispering of lost love and new beginnings.

  The warm firelight clashed with the cold blue glow of Tim’s X?O armor, warmth versus steel, emotion versus duty.

  Tim raked a hand through his blond hair, a gesture born of too many thoughts and too few answers.

  “I know, Jose. I just… don’t know how to navigate this.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the fire.

  “I’ve been avoiding personal time with Yume. She said I was ‘special’ to her, and it threw me off.”

  He exhaled, the breath heavy with everything he hadn’t said.

  “I’ve had so much change in such a short time. And now… I don’t know what to make of it.”

  His gaze drifted again to the tapestry, the forest, the moonlight, Elora’s memory woven into every thread.

  “Elora, Elor, the Whispering Forest… it’s all I’ve known here. But that’s gone. And now I’m in this fortress, fighting battles I never imagined.”

  He lifted the katana from its rack, feeling the cool steel, the weight of history in his palm.

  Jose nodded, slipping into the calm wisdom he rarely showed except in moments like this, moments where the mask fell away and the man beneath spoke plainly.

  “Look, Tim,” he said quietly, “we all had lives before we were brought here. The gods saw somethin’ in us. Somethin’ that makes us capable of bein’ heroes.”

  He gestured toward the whiskey bottle, its amber glow catching the firelight.

  “Why not go to her? Share a moment. Talk about your fears, your hopes. Maybe that’s what you both need.”

  Then, with a wink sharp enough to cut steel. “And who knows… that whiskey might loosen some tongues.”

  He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

  “I happen to know Yume is at the moon pool right now. Alone.”

  Tim exhaled, fingers brushing the bottle, feeling the weight of the choice before him.

  “You’re right, Jose.”

  He stood, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle, though this was no battlefield.

  This was something far more complicated.

  “I’ll go find her. I don’t know what will happen… but I can at least ease the tension between us.”

  He paused, looking at his friend, really looking.

  “Thank you for understanding. I know you’re all counting on me. I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

  Jose raised his glass in a silent toast, eyes warm with pride, mischief, and something unspoken, something Tim understood without needing explained.