On one side of the reception hall, a staircase made of light brown stone spirals upward, down which a few nobles dressed in ceremonial gowns are walking leisurely, their sashes and hems swaying gently with their steps.
With each step, their deep and rhythmic footfalls accompanied by their murmured conversations spiral down. Despite the low volume, in the cavernous space of the hall, every word seems to carry a special echo.
By comparison, the sofa area in the middle of the hall is exceptionally quiet. The candlelight on the gold candelabra flickers. Aside from the crackling sound of burning firewood in the fireplace, the three people sitting on the sofa are silent; just quietly waiting, as if they're in a separate world.
"Protoss Royal Magic Academy... Haven't the vicious competitions ceased already?"
Sitting on the first floor's sofa, Shaar asked Lanci and Sikder in a low voice, looking puzzled.
