Molnek Fen has spent his life at the anvil, and it shows in every heavy, deliberate word. He works griefglass in the Reliquary Forge, his craft respected and his weariness bone-deep, hammer blows ringing a beat too long as though the metal itself refuses to let the sound die. He guards his logs and his conscience with equal care.

Guilt hangs on him like forge-smoke. Molnek covers his tracks out of pride as much as fear, and pressing him too hard will only send him to fetch a patrol. Earn his trust, though, and he may let slip what really moves through his shipments at night.