An old man sits in his library pouring over numerous ledgers, through a dated pair of spectacles resting at the end of his nose. He has on a long grey robe and white gloves, to protect his hands. He is looking for something in all the pages and yet has no idea what it is for certain. He knows the reward will be huge if he finds the right bit of information. An idea occurs to him and he scribbles down a small note, “Gertrude to be protected at all costs,” then goes back to his skimming.
He is looking for at ledgers and records brought by one courier and sends his take away via another courier. His latest observations are that there is a buildup of foreign merchant ships at port, but they are all new names and crew. Also something is off from what was received from Ermore Inn, but he is uncertain as to what. The writing style is the same but the words are off somehow. He has looked back at the older volumes received and has not placed what is off.
The old man gets up from the desk and paces around a bit. The library is untidy with mounds of books sitting in various piles, organized like thoughts in the man’s brain. It is his room, bed and all, but the rest of the building is his employer’s. He never leaves the room as that is not what he paid to do. Rather he occasionally rests and looks out the window. From there he looks across Saj-graf and thinks of his sons and daughter receiving their monthly stipend. His servitude will be up in another year, and he wonders if they will recall his face when he returns to them. Have they forgotten his oath to them? They will miss the coin surely, but that was the deal.
He lets out a sigh and rubs at his eyes, the moon is rising and his candles are running short. He requested some lamp oil yesterday and had yet to receive it. Maybe it will arrive with supper.