The heavy oak doors groaned shut behind them, muffling the cacophony of the throne room. Meno, the dark-haired armored mage, gestured for them to follow with a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He led them down a winding corridor, the stale air thick with the scent of dust and something vaguely floral – long-dead flowers, perhaps.
Finally, they emerged into a sight that took Ryan aback for a moment. It was vastly different compared to the decaying grandeur of the palace interior, a hidden oasis of sorts now sprawled before them.
Sunlight streamed through a latticework roof, dappling a courtyard filled with vibrant blooms. Lush greenery spilled from terracotta pots, their fragrance competing with the sweetness of honeysuckle clinging to a nearby vine. A crystal-clear fountain gurgled in the center, its water cascading over smooth stones, the sound a soothing counterpoint to the distant clamor of servants and guards.
