Heroist
Auto-translated
A group of mercenaries arrives at the location of their assignment. It turns out to be a luxurious mansion in the District of Selar's Grace. Harold and his crew are admitted inside without any unnecessary questions by certain individuals in crimson robes. In the grand hall, the mercenaries are greeted by the client herself.
“Welcome, dear guests, please sit down,” Salitil says with a friendly gesture, indicating the available seats at a table laden with all sorts of delicacies of exceptional beauty and taste.
Besides the lady herself, who was unknown to Skufinson and sat on a throne of the purest red glass, there were men and women in the hall with bodies worthy of gods. Such a sight made common sense flee from the mercenaries with a loud "hee-hee, catch me!", especially from Harold himself, for the Will of Istiris in his body immediately began to urge the northerner towards the most elaborate dreams, with the head of the Sorn-Tarn cult in the leading role.
“Now, this is what I call hospitality,” he commented briefly, taking a seat at the table.
Whatever