As the tempestuous winds howled and the rain lashed against the inn's rickety windows, Khayr bustled about her establishment with a grace that belied the chaos of the evening. Her shawl fluttered behind her as she moved from room to room, ensuring that each overnight guest was settled in and comfortable.
The quarters upstairs were at capacity, while the tavern below was much of the same—alive and buzzing with the sounds of merriment and conviviality. Instruments trilled, voices sang, cups clanged, and the fireplace roared, casting a warm and inviting glow upon the faces of all who sought refuge within the inn's walls. The aroma of savory dishes, mead, and fine wines filled the air.
With a tired sigh, Khayr descended the stairs to begin tending to the guests whose lively spirits contrasted with the violent storm outside. As soon as she stepped into the tavern from the hall, a chorus of happy voices greeted her. And, with a renewed energy, she grabbed a pitcher from behind the bar, earning a cacophony of cheers as she called out, "Who needs a refill?"
