Dylan's POV
The six of them stepped into the inn, and strangely enough—despite its reputation—the place felt almost deserted. A few patrons were scattered across the room, but many chairs remained flipped atop the wooden tables. Dust coated the furniture in a way that betrayed a recent abandonment, as if the place had stopped breathing for a while.
Dylan walked in the middle of the group, flanked by Jonas and the bearded man. The girls had instinctively formed their own cluster. Soon, each of them was guided by one of the inn's servants toward the available rooms. There, at last, they could drop their gear… and prepare for a bath.
The suitcase on Dylan's back wasn't particularly heavy—just dirty clothes and a few survival items—but it carried the weight of accumulated exhaustion. Physical and mental. He had reached a milestone, a place of rest. All he wanted was to set it down and, for the first time in a long while, just sit still.
