Gal-Enshu wrinkled his nose.
"It smells."
"Your nose must be far more effective than mine because I don't smell anything."
The Syndic sighed before stepping onto a stone-sculpted, protruding bridge at the Urb Messis' entrance. Its end spiraled into various passageways, each leading to a different section of the abode, clearly not meant for its winged inhabitants.
On the other side of one of those paths, three magi stood still, with two of them hiding their faces behind amaranth-marked masks. The obvious regalia signaled their affiliation with the Percipience Intercessors.
The third one, however, bore a tight-fitted robe with a single fist-shaped sigil woven onto it. His semi-long blond hair was slicked back, revealing lightning-like stigmata across his forehead. He couldn't have been older than Gal-Enshu, yet his youthful face was already scarred with a missing eye.
