The scratching of quill against parchment is incessant, save for the briefest moment when the scrivener pauses to dip into ink. Their pace is relentless, their penmanship impeccable. Around them, rolls of parchment rest in piles, along with bottles of ink of every possible hue: from the deepest black to the brightest gold, to an ethereal nacre that shifts in the light. One bottle's label claims that it contains invisible ink, but it sits empty on the shelf…
