Even when the winter had supposedly fully set in, there was no real indication of that ever happening down that sticky pit of hell, except perhaps for the clouds that had shielded the sun's rays for most of the day… Not that it did anything to improve the foul humidity inherent to such a suffocating place.
King Ghroghl’s forehead was damp with sweat, and he was apparently having the most miserable time of his life while perilously trekking along the mud-caked road.
-Are you feeling regretful already, Your Grace? – A mocking feminine voice asked playfully from behind him, and he instantly squared his shoulders and perked his head up.
-Not at all, Jashka – He rushed himself to say, composing a purposefully broad smile and turning to face the warrior – Why would I be? Can't you see that I
