Murder at the Kinnen Hotel

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Twenty-two years before the events of Promise of Blood…

Adamat trudged through the slush and snow of the streets and onto the shoveled walkway that led up to the home of the Viscount Brezé. The four-story townhome in the Samalian district was surrounded by a ten-foot wrought iron fence, the tiny yard blanketed in snow.

Half a dozen constables swarmed the street in front of the townhome, and there were probably twice that number inside. Two large police wagons were parked in the street, creating a blockage that only encouraged the growing crowd of onlookers.

Subtlety, Adamat reflected, was not a quality of the Adopest police of the First Precinct.

His old precinct would never have been so sloppy. He’d have to mention it to the captain. A word to the drivers, instructing them to park out of traffic, was all it would take. He stepped inside and removed his overcoat and hat, shaking off the melted snow before handing them to the butler.

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