The stench of blood once again infiltrated his nostrils, and Rosacer struggled against the wave of nausea rising in his throat. It felt like it clung to the very air of the lower district, thick and metallic, as if the stones themselves had begun to bleed here.
But the truth...Rosacer now knew, it was due to experimentation, and the test people do here on the poor folks.
He moved quickly, steps sharp and careful, cutting through the narrow street until he reached the only lodging house he had managed to find.
A crooked wooden board hung above the entrance.
Marryton House of Stay.
"More like a house of strays," Rosacer muttered.
Even as he made this joke, he inwardly sighed.
He looked in front. The massive establishment stood before him.
