The Knight Barracks was humming with activity as Darion stepped closer. He could hear the sounds before he even reached the gate: the clang of metal, the murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter.
It was the sound of men who were alive, who were fed, who had purpose. A few months ago, the barracks had been silent. The knights had been too weak to train, too hungry to laugh and too defeated to make noise. Now, the place felt different. Obviously lived in.
And as he stepped through the gates, he could see for himself.
The building was old as usual, Darion noted. The stone walls were cracked in several places, the roof had patches where tiles were missing, and the main gate sagged slightly on its hinges. He would have to repair it soon enough. The knights deserved better than this.
But the building's age didn't matter to the men inside. They were too busy living.
