Kaelthar – The Merchant's Office
Kaelthar's merchant district never truly slept.
Lanterns swung from rusted hooks, casting pools of amber light across cobblestones worn smooth by generations of booted feet. The air smelled of spices, sweat, and the particular desperation of people who had come to this lawless border town because nowhere else would have them.
Alistair Croft's establishment occupied the corner of two of the busiest streets—a position that, in any civilized city, would have been prime real estate. Here, it was simply another building among many, its faded sign bearing the image of a coiled dragon clutching a scale in its claws.
The interior was cluttered but organized. Shelves lined every wall, laden with artifacts, scrolls, and items that glowed with faint, residual magic. A massive desk dominated the back of the room, its surface buried beneath ledgers, maps, and correspondence tied with colored ribbons.
Behind that desk sat the man himself.
