The three silver coins from Master Kael lay on the scrubbed pine drafting table in Sister Merrow’s washroom. It glowed with a soft, clean luster in the sapphire light of the arch. Pella Rook sat on her stool, her steel drafting pen dipped in fresh dark oak-ink, recording the payout in the master ledger.
Across the room, Eren Tal was wiping his hands on a damp towel, his leather apron covered in wood dust and flecks of dried tannin foam. Sister Merrow leaned against the bread counter, a pot of boiled tea resting on a trivet between two freshly baked loaves of sourdough crust.
The washroom was quiet, save for the faint crackle of birch embers in the hearth and the gentle, regular drip of water from the rinse tubs. Flakes of white pipe lime dusted the base of the wall where Eren had planed the new tool rack, while on the bench, a tin box of grease pencils lay neatly arranged by color.
‘One silver coin to Ada’s locked deposit account at Tamsin Drew’s brokerage in Harrowby,’ Pella said aloud, the scratching of her quill rhythmic and steady against the thick parchment. ‘One silver coin to the wheelwright yard for the replacement oak shores and the hardened rubber blanks. One silver coin deposited into the Workshop Emergency Reserve.’
