Just north of Wickenham Street in Sevenoaks, in an alley tucked between different book binders, scribes and pamphlet makers, lies a small shop called Adria’s Novel Idea, run by an elderly gentleman by the name of Calford. He’s a quiet man with great sadness behind his eyes. The shop is always gloomy, with little sunlight reaching its small windows. Great, intricately carved oak wooden bookshelves line the walls and are filled with dust covered books of different shapes and topics. Most of the floor space has been taken up by large stacks of books, giving the entire shop a maze-like quality. Some of them are leather bound, some of them are bound in wooden covers, some of them not bound at all.
In the back there is a desk where old Calford sits. Unlike the shop, the desk is neat and clean. Atop the desk sits a lantern, a pot of ink and a quill and two stacks of parchments. One stack of parchments is empty, the other stack is filled with neat writing. Nobody who has visited the shop has ever caught him putting ink to parchment. Calford lives above the shop and only leaves the shop on occasion to attend the service at the Library of Ioun or to buy supplies. He can sometimes be found at the docks, picking up a shipment of new books. Other than that he can be found in his shop, sitting behind his desk.
