Mr. Greenmere greets every traveler at the door of Frostglen Rest with a thin, anxious warmth, taking cloaks and pressing hot drinks before anyone can ask an inconvenient question. He positions himself between the guests and the stair to the basement without seeming to, and repeats his favorite comforts often: the storm will pass if you let it, the lodge exists so people can survive the Vigil, nothing happens here without him knowing.

He claims to keep careful records of everyone who comes and goes, yet his stories are slightly too smooth, and he grows visibly uneasy whenever the cellar or the Timberway comes up. Push toward either and he will physically step into the way, pleading damp stone and unstable shelving. He is not cruel, only frightened, and desperate that whatever is wrong not be laid at his feet.