Checking in with the coach house administrator wasn't nearly as tedious as Arn suspected. As soon as he'd shown his token the receptionist waved a device over it and soon after let him through. Arn'd never seen such a device before, it looked like a water smoothed stone with several etched circles and symbols which he couldn't read. She directed him to the Scholar's Shack - a name which made him weary of his upcoming stay in this town.

The Inn wasn’t far, no more than a ten-minute walk. ‘Scholar’s Shack’ was carved on a large wooden sign above the entrance of this four-story building. Back home Arn saw quite a few tall buildings, but this one was easily the tallest yet - particularly with the pointy roof and the metal pole above it. Border towns sure are strange, he thought. He craned his neck to look up at the sign atop the pole, “Ouch!” he yelped, and nearly fell over the three stairs leading inside. He looked around quickly - thankfully the street was deserted.

The inside of the Inn looked much like the other ones he stopped at during their journey: reception desk, a tavern on the first floor, and stairs up to the overnight rooms. He tugged at the straps of his backpack and approached the reception.

A man with an exceptionally long nose looked him up and down, then lowered his glasses, “can I help you?” he said, his voice droning and inflectionless.

“Yes please, I am looking for a room,” Arn replied.

“What sort of room, please?”

“Erm,” Arn wasn’t ready for the question, he hadn’t considered that there was more than one type of room. Previously it was Ossagar who arranged everything. “Whatever room I can get with the Scholar’s token.” Arn showed it to the man.

“Oh,” the man rolled his eyes, “that again,” he breathed loudly and blinked at Arn very slowly. He pressed a long finger to the token and his Tjoreal bracelet glowed faintly. “Well, it appears to be real, but we are a bit overrun by Scholars these days, if you please.”

“But aren't I in the Scholar's Shack? “

"Naturally, yes indeed."

"Where would you send me then?"

"I wouldn't presume to dictate your destination."

"But this is the Scholar's Shack!" Arn raised his voice. "Scholar's" he repeated and pointed at his token.

The man pursed his lips and glared at Arn, “we’re a bit full, m’kay?”

“Well, I don't have a choice!” Arn raised his arms "don't you have anything, perhaps a room no one else wanted?"

The man considered, sighed, then said “How about the attic? A tiny room in the attic is still available, m’kay?”

“Is there heating?" Arn replied, then shook his head "nevermind, I will have the room.”

“Mhm-kay,” he opened up a massive leather-bound ledger and began making notes.

“Your name, sir?”

“Arn sar Nyra.”

He glanced up at Arn who could have sworn that the glasses the man wore slid down his nose of their own accord. “Please, if you may grace me with your full and proper name?” he looked at Arn for a few moments, “m’kay?” he finally said.

“Arnyrath Sar Stonefather”

“Mhm-kay.” The man wrote Arn’s name and signed in one of the boxes. “The room is yours, come down for breakfast between eight and eleven in the morning, and dinner is served at the Great Hall, you may have it there with the other Scholars - at the Scholars’ table.”

“What about lunch?”

The man looked at a watch. “No thank you, it’s a bit late in the day for me. M’kay?”

“I, uhm.” Arn blinked. “Can I go to the room?”

“It would be well, yes. It’s room number thirteen. Here is your key,” the man took out a small and ancient looking key. Arn reached for it, but the man pulled it back. "One second, please." he said, then held the key and concentrated. Nothing happened as far as Arn could tell, but a moment later the man asked Arn to touch the key - which Arn did. Both the key and the man's hand glowed dimly, then stopped. "Now then, the key is calibrated to you, and you may now go to the room," he said.

Arn took the key and turned it over in his hand, it didn’t look like it had many winters left. The man at the reception was already busy with another visitor, Arn shrugged and went up the stairs towards his room. By the third floor he noticed the change in the inn’s condition: every floor had a few more cracks, a bit more dust, and a few extra spots with peeling paint. The stairs ended on the fourth floor and Arn walked the hallway until he saw another set of stairs leading up to the attic. Narrower and creakier as they were, the stairs only led to a single door at the end of a small standing space. He spotted the lopsided and scratched up sign with “13” on it. These few weeks are going to be long, he thought.

To Arn’s surprise the key turned smoothly and the door itself didn’t creak. He entered what turned out to be a modest but well-tended room with a single narrow window. Warm light flowed in after he pulled the curtains apart, it bathed the room in a soft glow, illuminating old but well cared for furniture and a neatly made-up bed. Could be worse, he thought.

Arn walked over to the table and looked for matches to light a candle - the evening light was growing dimmer by the minute, and he intended to go over the letter from the Inspectorate before sleep. A thorough search of the drawers yielded a nearly empty pack of matches - one of which lit the candle. The room was immediately filled with a flickering yellow light, Arn yawned and rubbed his eyes. He looked at the small wooden chair, then the bed, then the chair again, and finally made up his mind: today he’ll work from his bed. Once under the covers, Arn felt safer and more at ease than he did for days. He stifled a yawn.

Arn held up the letter and skimmed to the description of his tasks. It was a concise list of focus areas: daily ceremonies, weekly ceremonies, Small Council leadership, general mention of Elar’saga, and a separate section for the other lesser spirits. The Inspectorate didn’t provide much detail though Arn didn’t really need it. His parents drilled the procedures into his mind over the two weeks he spent waiting for the summons. He yawned again and stretched his arms. Enough for today, he thought. Arn put the letter on his desk, blew out the candle and turned in for the night.

He woke up to loud banging on his door - followed by a shout announcing “breakfast”. Quick footsteps descended the rickety stairs from his attic room, then several muffled bangs, all followed by the same call to breakfast - also muffled. His dream slowly faded to memory and the waking world asserted itself fully. He sat up on the bed, rubbed one eye and yawned. This was a much better sleep than he’d expected to have at the inn.

Still in somewhat of a daze, he made his way down for breakfast. A murmur of sounds filtered up from the first floor - muffled voices, movement, and dishes clanking. When he finally entered the tavern, it was nearly full and serving girls and boys darted all over the place. Really fills up in the morning, he thought, where did they all come from? Arn looked around and saw many people already at their tables; some finishing up with breakfast, some about to order. He shuffled towards an empty table and plopped down on the chair.

“Token please!” a serving girl called out the second he was seated.

“Sorry, I only have my own token,” he replied.

She glared at him.

“Oh spirits! What’s wrong with me…” he took out his Scholar’s token and showed it to her. The girl shook her head, checked the token with a brief touch, and ran off to get his meal.

The smell of food had finally woken him and his hungry stomach. It growled menacingly as the girl returned with breakfast - apparently loud enough for her to notice. She knitted her brows and gave him a disapproving look but was gone before he could say anything. Arn blushed.

Breakfast consisted of beans, stewed turnips, and fresh bread, with a side of morning tea. It was surprisingly delicious, and he inhaled it without fully relishing the flavours. His hunger satisfied, Arn leaned back in the chair and sipped on his tea. I should register with the small council, get a mentor, he thought. Was it snowing last night? Arn wondered. He vaguely remembered that it snowed during the night, though he didn’t remember waking up to see it. I’ll just review the letter a few more times before I go, he decided.