[aaerdan]

The crystal flashes.

To the inobservant, it would have been missed, partially hidden as it is among, and under, books weighty not just in term of subject matter; scrolls rolled up and bound; the occasional parchment with the mark signifying "Requiring of Urgent Attention" (and which are, naturally, way past the due date); and baubles of all colours on both sides of the spectrum.

The man seated across the room rose slowly. Not only had he seen the glimmer, he also knew what it meant.

Few things interest him. Even fewer things would move him.

After all, by his own admission, Aaerdan is an adherent to Newton's First Law.

With measured steps, less due to his age and resultant infirmity than the things cluttering the floor, acquired from his travels across the length and breadth of the many worlds, he approaches the desk.

Aaerdan picks up the crystal from among the mass (or "mess", as his home minister is wont to remark) and smiles.

"Fresh blood."