Pushing aside the double layers of leather curtains that blocked the tavern door, Lyle's vision was suddenly flooded with light. Mackenbert didn't have many street lamps, the glow from the great furnace dyed the entire city in a dusky red, in combination with the distinctive metallic roofs, the time in the Dwarf Kingdom seemed to linger in a perpetual twilight.
Magic lanterns were hung on the pillars supporting the smelting furnaces, their clear light as if wiping away the dust upon everyone's hearts.
The Fire Hammer Tavern was far from clean and tidy, with traces of scrubbing still visible on the floor, and without ventilation, the warm and pungent scent of spices rushed into Lyle's nostrils. This would likely mean little to the thick-furred Dwarves, but Lyle's nose felt somewhat itchy.
Lyle quickly spotted the extraordinary aspect of this restaurant, that being its staff and patrons.