The woman taps away quickly at her computer, and scans the result briefly before responding.

"Yessir!" The clerk says, cheerfully. "Room 700. It's on the second floor, southeast side of the little central bit here. Your balcony goes out over the courtyard."

She hands Nicholas what feels like a solid brass card, a shining black coat of something covers most of it, but it is left golden and reflective along the edges. There doesn't seem to be a single keycode on it. It might be a microchip device.