The Gilded Stag was not a crumbling hovel on the edge of civilization.
It was a fortress of warmth and luxury nestled in the heart of the valley, a haven for merchants, nobles, and those with enough gold to buy silence.
Stone walls thick as castle ramparts kept the storm's howl at bay, while a massive hearth in the common room roared with a fire that smelled of pine and expensive resin.
The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, spiced wine, and the kind of comfort that made one forget the world outside existed.
Vaelith, Elara, and Kaelin pushed through the heavy oak doors, dripping wet, their boots muddy, their faces grim.
They stood in stark contrast to the well-heeled patrons laughing and drinking inside.
The innkeeper, a rotund man with a silk vest and a smile that didn't
