Behind the desk sat the true power in this corner of The Exchange.
He was an old man, but age had not softened him; it had whittled him down to a core of hardened, ruthless efficiency. His hair was a swept-back mane of silver, and his face was a roadmap of scars and sharp angles. But it was his eyes that commanded attention. His right eye was a normal, piercing grey, but over his left eye was mounted a complex optical device, a single, circular lens set in a frame of polished brass and etched with minute, glowing runes. It was a Master-Appraiser's Monocle, a priceless artifact that could discern the composition, age, and true mana signature of any object. It gave him the look of a predatory, steampunk scholar.
He didn't look up as they entered. His attention was fixed on a data-slate, his fingers, adorned with simple, black iron rings, tapping silently.
