"My lord."
When Ulrich finished his morning training, Monika approached with a folded towel resting over her arm.
He accepted it without a word and wiped the sweat from his face, neck, and shoulders. The cold morning air had done little to cool the heat left in his muscles. His breathing had returned to normal, but the familiar ache of exertion remained beneath his skin.
It was useful.
It reminded him that his body was still his own.
"Have Shana prepared," Ulrich said, handing the towel back to Monika. "Give her a proper gown and make sure she is ready to meet the sisters."
Monika inclined her head.
"Yes, my lord."
She took the towel and left to carry out his order.
Ulrich remained in the training yard for another moment. His gaze falling on his right hand, still wrapped tightly around the wooden sword.
Then he looked toward his left arm.
The limb had been restored, but it was not truly healed.
Ulrich loosened his grip around the wooden sword.
Then he let it fall.
