The Captain
As soon as Lira and I got to the corridor, we heard the bustle of activity from below. Mixed voices clashed in a cacophony of laughter and cheerful shouts. Goddess, how loud does one have to be while eating their breakfast?
The wooden staircase creaked as we descended to the ground floor, an abundance of sunshine pouring in like curtains that split as we passed through, maneuvering our way into some kind of foyer.
The building was not that big, mostly made up of stone as it was, it didn't look dull either. Just opposite of the door, a tapestry hung—a black outline of a raven soaring upwards toward a crescent moon against a background of deep violet. The place appeared well taken care of, not a speck of dust on any surface whatsoever. The grey brick walls were slick and shiny, a few ornaments hanging here and there. It really wasn't what I expected from a group of mercenaries. Perhaps they had hired someone to clean or whatever.