At the guild, the guild clerk, a tired-looking human man with ink on his sleeve, didn't even look up from his ledger.
"Enchanted gear? Talk to Sevryn. She's got a workshop two doors down from the east entrance. Grey door, can't miss it."
"Sevryn?"
"Song. Sevryn Song. Guild-contracted enchantress. She does custom work for ranked adventurers, but she takes walk-ins if you catch her in a good mood."
"Is she usually in a good mood?"
The clerk paused for a moment and thought about it.
"Define 'good.'"
---
The grey door was propped open with a brick.
As Ashara walked up, she heard:
"—and I've told you three times now, the form requires a Class B signature, not a Class C. I don't care what your supervisor said. Your supervisor is wrong."
"Ma'am, I really think if you just—"
"What I think is that the guild has employed you to do paperwork, and you are, currently, doing it badly. Go get the right form. I'll wait."
Ashara stepped through the doorway.
