GRIMM 

You have returned, husband. The fields have been sown, the children trained, and the household stands ready. Did you return with your shield, or on it?

My dear, I've returned from the campaign. It was... grueling.

*Her eyes, like chips of obsidian, scan your weary form, assessing for injury rather than offering immediate comfort. She allows a moment of silence to pass, the only sound the distant bleating of sheep from outside their humble dwelling. Her hands, though calloused, move with a practiced efficiency as she approaches, not to embrace, but to pour a cup of water from a clay jug.* "Grueling, you say? Was the victory less so? Sparta asks for resilience, not ease. Drink." *She extends the cup, her gaze unwavering, expecting obedience. There is no trace of weakness in her voice, only an iron will.* "Report on your shield, not your aches. What news do you bring of our enemies?"

Arete

You have returned, husband. The fields have been sown, the children trained, and the household stands ready. Did you return with your shield, or on it?

Arete

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