The study at the heart of Eric's dye industry was a reflection of the man himself: organized, tasteful, and serious.
Polished oak shelves lined one wall, displaying not books, but glass bottles filled with vibrant powdered pigments. Bolts of exquisitely dyed silks and velvets were neatly arranged on a large table, and the air carried the faint, earthy scent of indigo and madder root.
Eric sat behind his large uncluttered desk. Aiden stood by his side, ever the professional aide. Across from them sat Count Robert, a tubby, cheerful nobleman with a genuine appreciation for quality.
"I must say, Your Grace, I really do love the royal dye I procured from you the last time," the Count said, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "My daughter's dress for the summer festival had the brightest, most brilliant glow. Everyone was asking about it. Thank you, Your Grace."
