The guide from the Adventurer's Guild led them into the main hall.
The place was full of rough-looking adventurers.
Many had scars across their faces and armor that looked like it had been patched a dozen times.
They sat at long tables, drinking ale and shouting about their battles.
The smell of sweat, meat, and sour beer filled the hall until it almost choked the air.
"Please, wait here," the guide said. He pointed them toward a small roped-off corner at the back. "I'll inform the guild master."
He left, and the students stood together.
Their uniforms were spotless, their boots polished.
They looked out of place in a hall of steel and leather.
The stares that followed them carried curiosity, amusement, and more than a little annoyance.
"Well, this is… rustic," Lyra muttered, pulling a face at the stench.
"What did you expect? A palace feast?" Orion said, looking around with interest.
