"Third floor," Ren murmured, adjusting his bag filled with precious skins. "Time to process some hides."
The workshop was a spacious area filled with work tables and shelves of tools. The air was thick with the smell of tanned leather and fixative products, each scent telling a story of materials transformed.
A short man with a thick grey beard worked at one of the tables. He was barely 10 centimeters taller than Ren, but his hands moved with the certainty of years of experience, each motion precise and purposeful.
"Excuse me," Ren approached, "Mr. Isaac?"
"That's me," he responded without looking up from his work, his focus absolute. "What do you need, boy?"
"I'd like to use the workshop to process some skins."
This caught Isaac's attention. He turned, his shrewd eyes studying Ren... until they noticed the mushrooms in his hair. His expression softened with a hint of pity that Ren was all too familiar with.
"What kind of skins?"
