"State your business." Says the man. "I will charge based on the information you want to know."
"I want the information inside the academy," Orwell says. "Anything about it."
"Ooh, clever one." The man smiles through his shawled face. "Five thousand shellings for that."
Orwell throws the man a bag of gold and silver coins. The man smiles upon inspecting the coin, and when he glances back at them, he leaned to his chair.
When Orwell and Faustina followed the man to the alley, he led them to a place—a store. It was an antique store with a rundown stamp. As they ambled inside the store, there was nothing but odd-looking wares that speak of historical junk. It looked like the place was unkempt, as well. Faustina suppressed a sneeze as she inhaled the dust.
