Harren's Post was the kind of place that existed because somebody had to live somewhere.
Forty buildings arranged in rough rows along a single road that led in from the north and out through the south, with nothing at either end that justified the road's existence, except the presence of people who needed to get from one nowhere to another.
A market operated on the eastern side.
A few merchant stalls, a forge that doubled as a meeting hall, and a building with the Sovereign Record's sigil painted above the door in faded blue.
The representative was a woman named Arden. Mid-forties, sharp-featured, with a posture that said she'd rather be anywhere else.
She wore the Record's uniform without enthusiasm.
The jacket's left sleeve was patched at the elbow in a color that didn't match, which Alistair noticed because his colorblind eyes registered differences in shade even when they couldn't register differences in hue.
