The sky outside Shareon City was dark, full of cold wind and danger, but inside the Howling Fang Inn, it was a different world.
The air stank of sweat, cheap alcohol, and smoke. The wooden floor was stained with spills and old blood. Loud laughter roared through the hall, mixing with the clinking of mugs and the sound of wild music.
The Howling Fang Inn was chaos wrapped in wood and smoke. Located near the south edge of Shareon, it was a haven for criminals, mercenaries, and the scum who had nowhere else to go.
Its signboard—half-hanging and splintered—creaked in the wind. Inside, the scent was thick: cheap perfume, rotten meat, unwashed bodies, and alcohol so strong it could peel paint off a wall.
The main hall was large, but packed. Tables were filled to the brim. Plates of half-eaten meat lay forgotten as men slammed mugs together.
