Solmund leaned back in his chair behind the ransacked desk in his office and heaved a heavy sigh. The Brass Blades had finally concluded their investigation nearly a week behind schedule, and he had slept barely a wink in that time- one cannot leave Brass Blades alone with valuables. All in all, the office of Whyte Contrivances was left far more destroyed than it was when Solmund entered at the start. The only thing missing that he knew of were the shipping manifests that proved that Black Fangs were poaching in the Shroud.
"You are certainly looking your age this morning." said the Dunesfolk sitting in the chair across from him whose age was betrayed only by the subtle grays running through his carefully styled navy-blue hair.
Solmund sat up, blinking his tired eyes and tapping a quill on the desk. "You're one to talk, Dadarupo." His tone was a mix of jest and irritability.
"Yes, but I wear it -well-. While you on the other hand should get your beauty sleep before my hard work begins to look tired as well." He was of course referring to the Highlander's intricately woven coat and vest, designed and tailored by the Lalafell's own hands.
Solmund could only shake his head with an exhausted smile. He would be returning to the Harbingers manor this eve, and privately lamented not having his own quarters built yet. This combined with the idea of Dadarupo meeting the Saints mortified him, but he knew it was his best chance of solving his troubles. Hopefully, the Lalafell's slice-and-dice tongue would not become an obstacle.
"You are certainly looking your age this morning." said the Dunesfolk sitting in the chair across from him whose age was betrayed only by the subtle grays running through his carefully styled navy-blue hair.
Solmund sat up, blinking his tired eyes and tapping a quill on the desk. "You're one to talk, Dadarupo." His tone was a mix of jest and irritability.
"Yes, but I wear it -well-. While you on the other hand should get your beauty sleep before my hard work begins to look tired as well." He was of course referring to the Highlander's intricately woven coat and vest, designed and tailored by the Lalafell's own hands.
Solmund could only shake his head with an exhausted smile. He would be returning to the Harbingers manor this eve, and privately lamented not having his own quarters built yet. This combined with the idea of Dadarupo meeting the Saints mortified him, but he knew it was his best chance of solving his troubles. Hopefully, the Lalafell's slice-and-dice tongue would not become an obstacle.
![[Image: N2mzMVi.jpg]](http://imgur.com/N2mzMVi.jpg)
Art by Berrod!
