Dust motes swirled through the air, illuminated by the dim light streaming from a perpetually-lit lantern high above them. The room was vaguely conical in shape, its roof tapering into a point from its circular foot, and three other doors were set at cardinal points around the room. The party emerged from the tunnel, and Alder sneezed immediately as he inhaled a lungful of dust. The clattering of hooves on stone stopped as they surveyed the room.

“A workshop,” Alder said into the silence. “Perhaps there are weapons or materials here.”

“Perhaps,” Lujayn said dubiously, eyeing a set of cabinet doors that hung off their hinges. It was obvious another party had already been through here and taken anything of value. Most vessels and doors lay open, their contents strewn across the room. This workroom had clearly been organized at some point; hooks with etchings of tools above each were hammered into the walls, and shelves lined the walls with books still in relevant groups on them. The thick layer of dust covering everything told her it had been some time since the workroom had been ransacked.

“These hold no value,” Annaeus said dismissively. “What use are old tools, when the things they were used for no longer exist? This is a waste of time.”

“My lord,” Alder started, but Annaeus cut him off.

“Silence,” he said icily, moving towards the northern doorway. “We have spent enough time here. Retainers, let us continue forward.”

Percy’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly at ‘retainers’. The baron had been nothing but abrasive from the get-go, first attempting to haggle with him and Lujayn on the price of their services, and then being insufferably entitled at every turn. Even after they had chased the ruffians from Lord Annaeus’ tent, the baron had been thankless, complaining about broken items and berating his guides for not getting back soon enough – despite the fact that they’d been on a mission with him at the time, and slowed by his refusal to travel faster than a walk. Lujayn had stressed the importance of maintaining utter professionalism no matter how annoying their charge may be, but frankly, Percy had half a mind to give this…lord…a proper talking-to.

Lujayn obviously sensed it, and when Percy glanced inadvertently at his mentor, he found himself on the receiving end of a withering stare. His ears flicked in uncomfortable acknowledgement, and she held his gaze for a moment longer before straightening and beginning to move off.

“Very well, Lord Annaeus,” Lujayn replied. “Let us continue.”

With a derisive snort, Annaeus aimed a frustrated kick at the workbench, expecting the ancient wood to splinter under his hoof. Instead, there was a click as the edge of the bench recessed into itself, and the room began to spin, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. The baron’s screech filled the air as the party were invariably flung at random across the room, landing against the walls and floor with heavy thuds.

The room finally slowed to a stop. Alder tried to get to his feet immediately, staggering sideways dizzily before crashing back to the floor. “I feel quite unwell.”

Lujayn rose moments later, armour clanking as she shook herself free of the residual whirling. Her armour had protected her neck and back from the bookshelf she’d been thrown against, and her chanfron from the subsequent shower of dusty books. “Is everyone alright?”

“Fine,” Percy said, busy untangling his reins from where they’d snagged on a set of clamps. “Where’s the baron?”

The question was soon answered by a pathetic groan emitting from an enormous pile of discarded equipment. Alder, still incapacitated on the ground with his head between his forelegs, murmured, “Is he alright?”

Reins free, Percy got to his feet and moved towards the pile. Broken shields, metal scraps, and old, fraying rags covered the majority of Annaeus’ body, and his lavender coat was streaked with dust and grime.

“I am wounded,” Annaeus said, aggrieved.

With more care than he felt, Percy began moving the debris off the baron. Lujayn, having made sure Alder was recovering, soon joined him, looking all the while for the wound Annaeus had spoken of.

“There!” Annaeus said, turning his head away from a small cut on his right cannon. “I can’t bear to look at it! It mars my coat with its ugliness!”

Lujayn exchanged an exasperated look with Percy as she nudged the other Courser to his feet. “Come, my lord, and let me tend to your wounds away from this detritus.”

She made short work of bandaging his leg. By the time she finished, Alder had managed to stand, and had begun sniffing at one of the doorways leading off the main room.

“Lujayn,” he said hesitantly, “I’m not sure if I’m imagining things, but I don’t think these are the same hallways as before the room spun.”

Lujayn’s ears pricked and she made her way around each of the archways, looking for their scent. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe they are.”