In another tavern, the stifling atmosphere hung heavy with the acrid stench that permeated the air, as if the foul odor had woven itself into every nook and cranny. The pungent aroma mingled with the coppery tang of blood, forming an unsettling olfactory assault on the senses. The tavern's interior bore witness to the aftermath of a fierce struggle, where shattered walls revealed broken bricks and scattered debris strewn across the floor.
Amidst the wreckage, a gathering of black-clothed guards stood triumphant, their swords stained crimson with the lifeblood of both friends and foes. Shadows played upon their faces, their identities obscured by the dim illumination cast by flickering candles hanging from the chandelier. Several of these candles had been haphazardly affixed to the walls, further adding to the enigmatic visage of the victorious guards.
