The Great Hall of Baron Hanrahan could most charitably be called 'rustic.' To Isabell's professional eyes, it felt like a relic of an era that Blackwell County had left behind more than a century ago. The windows of the Great Hall were narrow, and had clearly been designed to double as positions for archers to stand in defense of the manor rathather than being designed to allow in as much light as possible. While they had been fitted with glass panes at some point in the past century, the glass itself was warped and cloudy and copious amounts of lead had been used to fit them in place over the widened arrow slits.
The ceiling was high and framed with timbers that supported dozens of chandaliers and the floor was strewn with fresh cut rushes, but no amount of surface treatments could make the aging fortress feel like anything other than a dark relic of an age where the thickness of your walls was the defining measurement of your ability to survive the assault of your enemies.
