Charles followed Nora through the dining hall's corridors, the black sword in his right hand and a twinge of embarrassment nagging at him.
The rain still pounded outside, but inside, the air was warm, smelling of old wood and freshly cooked food.
Nora walked with an energy that belied the exhaustion Charles knew she must be feeling.
Her enthusiasm was almost contagious, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place.
The corridors were nearly empty, and to his surprise, there were hardly any men around.
The few people they passed were women, some in black tunics, others carrying baskets of laundry or supplies, all eyeing them curiously as they went by.
Charles felt his face heat up, especially since Nora seemed oblivious—or indifferent—to the attention they were drawing.
The sword, as usual, didn't miss a chance to butt into his thoughts.
