Edmund Fairholm

Hector Foxberg looked at the newly purchased clock hanging over the fireplace and looked rather content. Finally he had managed to get to Trinsic and find the tinkerer. It hadn't been an easy task, and it had taken most day. But seeing the result, he rather admired the craftsmanship of the clockwork, and made many parallells to the fine art of the wizardry, which he knew all very well.

He remembered having seen both Kaelyn, a new Duchy guard and a few random people while passing through Trinsic. Oh, and yes, there was Mordred. He hadn't seen him in ages, and admittedly, he had been quite surprised to see any Kaldorians were still left. Especially in Trinsic.

Moving in to this tower had taken many months. Years, infact. It must be mentioned that he hadn't put much effort into it, but at least he now felt he had finally moved properly in. Already the three floors of the tower looked as though if he had lived there for decades. Torn maps spread around on the floor, books floating everywhere, crumps and old bread on a plate on the table. He had naturally brought most of his old furniture, but he hadn't had the time to neither dust or clean any of them yet.

Over the past year he had been quite occupied with reasearch for his latest book. He had decided to write down the entire story of his old clerical order. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. He glanced over to Staff, lined up in the corner of the room across from his desk. He needed to conjure a plan on how to get as much information as possible out of it. A moment after he returned to finding places in the shelves for his books, which was easier said than done: When he first found a place for a book, he often got intrigued with the other books he found in the process, and quite often ended up examining them instead of actually cleaning. This, of course, resulted in a much greater mess than originally intended.

After a few hours he sat down in his chair, and quickly realized what the time was, and specifically how fast time flew away. Well. That, or how slow he was at keeping up with it.

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