When Igram arrived in Boscastle, it was nightfall, meaning he had to find a motel to rest in before heading out into the forest to find the Santris coven. Boscastle was a small village in Cornwall, a perfect hiding place where he was going to get a rest and finally get a breather. He was both tired and hungry. The train stopped and he quickly got out, not wanting anyone to recognize him in case they had tracked him down.
He first searched for a motel, which took about an hour, and paid with cash. It was a cheap, dirty motel rarely used by people. It was exactly what he needed to lay low. He opened the door of the room and was welcomed by cockroaches. He held his mouth, almost puking. He could not remember the last time he was graced with such filthy. For twelve years, he had lived a luxury life fit for a king. Now, because of his selfishness, he was reduced to worse than a beggar. He looked around, trying to process filth.
