The inn was modest and comfortable, a stark contrast to the bustling pub below. As I descended the wooden stairs, the sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and lively conversation grew louder, creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere. The air was filled with the rich scent of roasted meat and the tang of dwarven ale, a stark departure from the sterile environment of the walled cities.
I pushed through the heavy wooden door and stepped into the pub, where the sight that greeted me was both familiar and foreign. The free-folk—those living outside the walls—milled about, chatting animatedly, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of hanging lanterns. They were not the uncivilized savages I had been led to believe; instead, they seemed just like the people from where I came from.
