The floodwaters surging into the streets lashed against the buildings, repeatedly baptizing the walls' surfaces, swirling with chaotic debris, like a throng of excited rioters trying to knock on door after door with swords.
The tavern floor was already covered with water, the door shaking violently, rainwater constantly seeping through the cracks.
Heracles was not frightened by these anomalies. Perhaps it was because he had spent so much time with Lorenzo; all this was far from reaching his threshold.
Polo sat anxiously on his shoulder, while Heracles gripped a shotgun, wrapped in ammo belts, looking as if he was ready to slaughter everywhere.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this tavern offers sanctuary services. You can choose to stay or leave."
Heracles calmly stated.
"Sanctuary? Are there secret tunnels?" Oscar inquired. "I heard Lorenzo mention that you rats dug countless tunnels under Old Dunling."
