With Lyra walking gracefully at his right and the coachman at his left, Asher descended the stairs at a measured pace.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the coachman, noting with faint amusement the man's surprisingly improved hygiene and the unmissable smoothness of his skin, an overnight transformation that did not go unnoticed.
Upon reaching the front counter, the attendant straightened with practiced poise and greeted them at once, "Good morning, Young Master, Madam, Sirs. How may I be of service?"
The attendant's tone was exceptionally courteous, as expected. After all, anyone capable of affording a hundred gold coins per night was either nobility, closely tied to one, or simply wealthy enough to stand among them.
"Let us see the food menu," Asher said calmly.
With a respectful nod, the attendant lowered his hand beneath the counter, retrieved a neatly folded menu, and presented it to Asher with both hands.
