The two mercenaries arrived at the gate of the guild at night. After the quick security procedure of showing their licences to the guards, they made their way into the guild lobby.
The wide hall was unusually scanty, untypical of the guild Maxwell had grown somewhat accustomed to. But he liked this scantiness nevertheless.
Fewer mercenaries in the lobby meant fewer offensive smells, body odors and the constant heat that always grounded his mortal skin.
He could only see some mercenaries here and there, the ones cashing out their late-night rewards, the others still gazing at the taskboard, checking out tasks to take on this night, and most others still at the receptionist's desk, reporting one complaint or the other.
The night breeze flowed through the open windows of the guild lobby, touching the skins of both Maxwell and Vin, and cooling their bodies as they breathed steadily, walking to the receptionist desk.
