“Varek rarely speaks directly of his goods' origins but occasionally mutters about 'a rich lord too proud to guard well.' His shop smells faintly of old parchment, burnt incense, and the sharp tang of ozone, hinting at hidden wards. Items are displayed haphazardly on rickety shelves and scattered velvet cloths; some are dustier than others. He has a habit of flicking a coin in his fingers when nervous and often eyes newcomers suspiciously before warming up.”