The slender gentleman strolled along the cobblestone path, his steps light, the tapping of his cane on the stone, as if he were playing a lute. Clothed in a silk-lined coat layered over a woolen outer garment, he withdrew a white glove and stuffed the meter-long cane into the palm-sized pocket.
He had arrived.
Tipping his hat to the square and long stone bricks beneath him, he knocked on the nanmu door.
The footsteps, accompanied by the sound of chainmail colliding, suggested an iron-armored person opening the door for himself.
Reed's voice emanated from within his iron helmet, dull like the breathing of a slumbering giant.
"You're late, Irene, after the time you've appointed."
Irene stood still to adjust his round hat, caressing its white feather as he apologized, "Sorry, Reed, to have troubled you to come out and open the door for me."
