The thick stone walls of the Spiral Tower isolated the hubbub of the city outside the window as the towering elder, holding a staff, descended the stone steps at a steady pace. Artifacts placed in the niches of the walls shone like new, and every time he passed by those items, the old man could feel a new vigor entering his body, as if the times when he obtained them were being returned to him, and he was still that young and robust soul.
A rush of footsteps came from below, the loud clanks of iron boots against the ground drowned out the elder's steps, disrupting his rhythm. He simply stopped and waited for that impatient guest to make their presence known.
That sound, after approaching the elder, came to a halt. Only when he resumed walking did the iron boots follow his pace, step by step.
