Catering Section

A narrow service corridor tucked behind the grand reception halls of Stanbridge House, its white-tiled walls streaked with coffee stains and the sharp scent of fried food lingering in the stale air. A row of stainless steel serving trolleys stands abandoned mid-delivery, one tipped slightly as if Broton fled in haste. Two swinging doors—one marked 'River Terrace Entry'—creak against their hinges, revealing a sliver of manicured lawn beyond the grimy windows. The floor’s linoleum bubbles in places from damp mops, the linoleum sticky underfoot, while overhead fluorescent lights flicker, their buzz competing with the distant thrum of the Skarasen’s approach from the river. Cardboard boxes of catering supplies litter a counter, their contents spilled across the counter like a trail. The Brigadier’s boots click decisively on the tiles, echoing through the empty space as he gestures toward the terrace with military precision.