Successors [Tentative]

0 - Lost and Found

It's unusually rainy today.

The female desk clerk noted this as more and more men filed into the storehouse, the hoods of their cloaks up and fully drenched in what seemed to be a particularly bad thunderstorm. The sun was just about ready to set, and from here she would usually have a great view out the large circular window sitting several meters above the main entrance. Today though, it was nearly impossible to see out of. The light refracting off of the obscured window gave birth to hundreds of tiny, translucent rainbows, and despite the cold, dreary night it was sure to be, made the room feel slightly more warm and cozy than it actually was.

"Pardon me, miss... Luisa?"

Luisa snapped out of her day dream — or was it a midday dream? A normal dream? Questions to ponder later — as the man in front of her called out her name. It took her a second to focus in on his features. Whoever he was, she didn't fully recognize him, but he looked familiar enough. Oh well. Plenty of roguish types come in and out of the storehouse without stopping to chat. Men like that were all business, which was fine by her. Luisa loved a good chat as much as anyone, but some of these men scared her to death. Better to not be noticed at all; even though she was underutilized, at least the job was good pay.

"Yes? Can I help you with something? I should let you know, the storehouse closes for everything but incoming shipments at nine bells."

The man looked... annoyed? Impatient? It was surprisingly hard to tell. His features seemed rather unplaceable. She definitely knew him from somewhere. Or did she? He might have just had one of those faces. It didn't help that he kept his hood up, even though he was out of the storm.

"I have a meeting with Harold Ingenium. Tell him that Oscar Roswal is here for him. And keep it down please, I'm not trying to cause a scene."

Oh, Luisa thought. Another of Harold's scalpers. That probably explained why she felt like she recognized him. The business that the storehouse manager conducted was far from legal, but it was extremely profitable for everyone involved. While it didn't sit well with her, Luisa was much too poor for the luxury of choice. She nodded, and quickly wrote a letter to Harold with the man's name in her logbook. Half a chime later, script in Harold's flowing handwriting appeared underneath: Send him in, please.

"Well, it seems you're in luck then, mister Roswal. Harold will take you shortly." She waved Roswal towards the double doors in her right, leading further into the complex. He bowed his head and walked towards them, taking the last rays of sunset with him.

Luisa reached into her desk, pulling out a small hooded lantern and a match. In a couple of deft strokes, she had a small fire burning in the container, illuminating her desk in a dull yellow glow. She lit several more along the walls, but didn't bother with the ones adjacent to the front door. The entire wall was soaking wet from rainwater spattering in, and with a loud clap of thunder one of the lanterns on the far wall petered out.

Luisa sighed, reaching for her matchbox once again. This was going to be a long night.

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Roswal walked through the creaking wooden double doors into the main storage facility. It was large, going down from end to end for at least a kilometer. The sprawling hallways were lit up symmetrically by specialized automated lanterns, set to turn on as soon as daylight stopped shining outside. The shelves themselves were sturdy, build into the hardened pulp of petrified trees and carved out to perfect dimensions. It was likely one of the worlds most awe inspiring wonders, that nobody but the ultra rich and the very informed knew about.