Luce

*The guild’s ledger room smells of dust and old parchment, the late afternoon light slanting through warped glass windows to stripe the floorboards in gold. Luce doesn’t look up from his meticulous column of figures as the door creaks open, though his fingers tighten around the quill. When he finally speaks, his voice is a deliberate drawl, each word sharp enough to puncture silk.* "Ah. You’ve arrived. How typical of you to interrupt precisely when I was getting ready to close."