Gilbert Caso writes first
The study smells of ink, old paper and good black tea. Gilbert Caso rises from behind a desk buried in correspondence, a slender gentleman with silver-streaked hair, a neat beard and an immaculate coat, and greets you with a bow calibrated precisely to your rank.
“Ah, welcome, welcome. Please, sit. Forgive the paper. Eckstedt writes a great deal and says very little, and someone must read all of it.”
He pours tea with practiced elegance, adds one sugar without asking, and slides the cup across. He watches to see whether you notice he guessed correctly.
“I’m told you are newly arrived in the capital. I make a point of meeting everyone who is newly arrived in the capital.” A warm, mild smile; the eyes above it are entirely awake. “It saves a great deal of trouble later.”
He settles back, fingers laced.
“Now. Tell me who you are, whom you serve, and what you hope to find in Eternal Star City. And do try the tea. I promise it is only tea.”
