Some Time Earlier...
After her dear husband, Hakkar, had passed away, Widow Hannin's life hadn't been easy. There were plenty of people who thought they could take advantage of a lonely old woman, but she had kept her integrity and managed to pull through. Integrity could be a cold companion, but it was the only companion she had.
Looking across her desk at her grim-faced visitor, the widow composed her unresponsive features into a mask of benevolent ignorance. "Gods bless ye sir, I ha'n't seen that Keykold fella' in years. Sure'n I have some young bucks that dweel'n beneat' my roof, but I run an honest house! I'll ne' keep scoundrels here!"
Ignoring her, the man tore the ledger out of the widow's hands. As his grimy finger traced the recent entries, he turned to a lanky man in the doorway. "Jirie, she's only let out three rooms in the last few days," then turned back toward the widow. "We'll be no trouble, madam. It should only take a few minutes to satisfy our employer's curiosity."
The pair headed up the stairs, the Atkinshire brooches on their cloaks gleaming dully.