The inn sat at the edge of the old quarter, half hidden between a tannery and a closed apothecary shop. Its lanterns were dim, and the sign above the door creaked with every gust of wind. Inside, the smell of ale, smoke, and damp wood hung thick in the air.
A figure in a green hood stepped through the door and paused just inside. She did not move toward the bar. Instead, she stood still, head slightly lowered, eyes scanning the corridor that led to the private rooms at the back. A drunk laughed too loudly near the hearth. A serving girl passed with a tray of cups. No one seemed to be paying attention.
Only when she was certain did the green-hooded figure move. Her boots made little sound as she walked down the corridor and stopped before the last door. She pushed it open just enough to slip inside, then shut it quickly, the latch clicking into place. The sound was too loud in the quiet.
