What little light remained outside barely penetrated the thick air within. The entrance hall creaked under the group's weight as they entered, the old wood groaning like it hadn't held living feet in centuries. Dust thick enough to choke clung to every surface, and the cobwebs, heavy and motionless, draped like mourning veils across the crumbling sconces.
"Pick whichever room you want to rest up in," Ludwig said as he led them into the dim corridor, his voice echoing lightly against the ruined walls. "There's a small magical water spring at the end of that corridor—straight ahead and right. Should help you clean off all that filth and grime. It's cold water, sadly, but I'd wager that's better than staying caked in rot."
He didn't wait for permission or thanks.
"I'll have to apologiz—"
"Where is it!" Melisande interrupted, practically bursting with renewed energy at the mere mention of water.
