Luke stared at my mud-splattered pants in absolute horror for a fraction of a second, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before a helpless chuckle escaped him. He quickly jogged through the dry edge of the path to catch up, falling back into stride as we rounded the corner of the stone wall and emerged into the open courtyard of the orphanage.
The space was a breath of fresh air. Unlike the dark, fortified stone of the lower tunnels, this area was open to the sky, surrounded by three stories of residential rooms with wooden balconies overflowing with hanging ivy. The courtyard itself was covered in thick, resilient grass, littered with wooden training swords, leather balls, and a few chalk drawings.
About a dozen children, ranging from toddlers to early teens, were s
