It was unclear how long it had been since this person last cleaned themselves. What should have been a lustrous, black mane was now greasy and tangled with knots. A closer look at the exposed hairline revealed a layer of yellowed, sticky residue. A careful sniff offered a strange, pungent odor - something akin to sweaty socks left unwashed for weeks combined with crushed heather juice. The only redeeming feature was her striking features, which even dirt couldn't completely obscure.,There were also ten or so young and middle-aged men dressed more uniformly, with swords hanging from their waists. Some stood guard while others watched intently.,He plopped down on the ground, chewing slowly on a hard, cold biscuit. He softened it with his saliva before swallowing, his attention focused on the low-voiced conversation of the officials. Though their chatter was fragmented, he could still piece together some information from it.。
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