When they got up that morning and went downstairs to check out, the proprietor was sitting behind the front desk, waiting specifically for Kallen and the others. His upper body was wrapped in bandages that gave off a distinctive herbal smell, and his face had swollen to the size of a pig's head.
Checking out was simple. Kallen tossed over their one and only room key, ignoring the thick envelope the proprietor produced. It presumably contained last night's room fees-and, barring any surprises, more than just the room fees.
But Kallen did not take the envelope. Room fees were room fees; those were separate matters.
As for having Philomina beat the man down last night, first, the proprietor's words had indeed been offensive enough to warrant a beating. Second, it had been a way for both sides to test each other. This was a smuggling town, with no legal restraints, only tangled gang interests. In a place like this, simply yielding and backing away as unfamiliar outsiders would only invite more trouble. If they had not beaten the proprietor before checking in, the night would not have been so peaceful and quiet. The proprietor himself might even have arranged for someone to pay them a visit.
In a carriage outside, Neo was drinking milk and eating sandwiches. Kallen had reserved a room for him last night, but he had not come up to stay. Presumably, his discussions had run so late that he had simply rested in the carriage.
The others waited outside while Kallen entered the carriage first.
"Everything's arranged," Neo said. "They're very excited over there. I imagine the welcoming ceremony won't disappoint."
"Won't it be a little rushed?" Kallen asked. "I'm worried they won't have time to prepare."
"People's initiative can be frightening under particular circumstances. I