The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, old-fashioned lanterns are hanging from wooden beams on the ceiling of a cozy, small wooden stable, casting a warm, golden light over the interior. Like, a bunch of lazy horses are quietly munching on hay in their stalls, their ears twitching now and then as the air's thick with the smell of manure and hay. Umm, a small, leather-bound bucket in the corner of the stable is steadily refilling itself with fresh, cold water from nowhere in particular, without any visible signs of pipes or plumbing. The air's warm and still, with a gentle, soothing hum filling the space.