The guards exchange glances, a silent conversation playing out only in their looks. Whatever the reasoning behind their decision, one of them knocks twice on the door and it swings open, allowing you entrance.

The entrance hall occupies the entirety of the floor, made up of polished patterned blue marble. Chairs and tables at which to conduct meetings are scattered around in small groupings, and you feel the eyes of a dozen statues carved from white stone linger on you. A pair of staircarses in opposite corners lead up, while one in the corner to your right leads down.

A few people are milling around here, still conducting business at this late hour, and what glances you receive are filled with revulsion and fear. No one approaches you. A pair of guards in supple leather with clubs at their hips and crossbows at their back stand at each of the stairs up.