The Alderman Hotel has stood in the center of Varenholm longer than anyone currently alive can remember.
It is not grand. It does not pretend to be. Sixteen rooms, dark wood paneling in the lobby, a restaurant that serves three things exceptionally well and everything else adequately. It has the quiet presence of a place that has witnessed decades of private negotiations and never once felt the need to speak about them. The staff move with practiced invisibility, and the corner booth in the restaurant offers a clear view of both the entrance and the service corridor.
Lucien chose the seat facing the door.
I chose the seat beside him rather than across. That detail, simple as it is, carries weight I only fully register once we are seated. Reth sits opposite us. Marcus occupies a nearby t
