"My Lord, here it is," Oliver said as he entered the hall, signaling the men behind him.
They carried several wooden crates and placed them carefully on the floor. The faint clinking of metal echoed through the room as the boxes were set down.
Ethan stood from his chair and walked forward. His eyes studied the crates with a calm but sharp gaze. "Are these all the things from Fenwick?" he asked quietly.
Oliver nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Everything the men could recover from."
Ethan knelt down and opened the first box. Inside were small artifacts,amulets, rings, and tools engraved with faint symbols. Some were damaged, others covered in soot, but most still carried a trace of energy.
He moved to the next crate and lifted its lid. Inside were scrolls wrapped neatly in silk and sealed with wax.
He picked one up and unrolled it slowly. The faded ink glowed faintly under the torchlight. Ethan's expression hardened as he began to read.
