Mikhail
A young man with a slight limp greets us, his somber expression ruthless despite his lack of agility. "Mikhail Ivanov." He extends his hand. "I am Viktor Krasnov. I will be your contact during your stay."
"Thank you." My reply is more reflexive than sincere. "I appreciate your hospitality."
Viktor nods slightly, and we instantly understand the circumstances that have brought us together. In our world, a guest is someone who needs to hide or is being hidden away. I look around in wonder at the country inn located outside of Twin Rivers. Inside, the building is relaxed and homey, not the over-the-top display of wealth I expect from someone of Andrei Barinov's importance. I grin at the quaint pictures on the wall of farmers working and marvel at the fireplace made entirely of river
