The heavy door closed with a dull thud as Trafalgar stepped inside the bathroom. For a moment he just stood there, taking it in. Marble floors, polished brass fixtures, steam stones embedded neatly into the walls to keep the place warm—this wasn't the kind of room he expected at the top of a fortress.
He let out a low whistle. "Huh. Fancy. Guess the Morgains really don't do things halfway."
His eyes trailed over the carved shelves stacked with towels, jars of fragrant oils, even a mirror of enchanted glass set into the far wall. A place this high up in the mountains should have been bare and utilitarian, but instead it looked like something out of a noble's palace.
'Makes sense, I guess. This is the most protected stronghold the Morgains have. Still… the resources they poured into this place must be insane.'
