When they were finally able to sit down in his office, it was easy to see where the extra money had gone. The snakewood desk that Morojo sat behind was varnished to the shine of a mirror. Each desk leg had a sock of gold, fashioned with the tongues of serpents or perhaps the tongues of dragons. A quill and unfoiled scroll sat upon it, appearing to have been left in a hurry.
"I was not aware you could read," Gengyo commented, lowering himself into the seat opposite. Feathered cushions, it was easy to tell. Nothing could match that comfort.
"My family business would not have lasted long had I not learned the craft. The number of times my logs have saved my skin is past counting." The shipwright replied more comfortably, sliding the document across to him. "I've employed that practise here as well. A record of all the taxes we've received."
