‘The Tavern’. The words are etched into a rugged piece of wood that hangs above the door to the small building. The door itself is barely big enough for Konan to fit through, and the windows on either side are tinted orange from the candles that burn inside. The buildings in this small village are all made from the same materials, but they are materials that aren’t seen anywhere else in the Kingdom. The stone is grey, likely gathered from the fallen debris of the mountains. There’s a dampness in the air that is refreshing, much nicer than the humidity that I am used to.
The door suddenly swings open and two men come falling out, their arms around each other, stopping the other from tipping over. Their eyes are wet from laughing so much, and they don’t even notice Konan and I standing in
