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Harvus Norheim of the Banry Shore Norheims spent his lifetime dedicated to the study of magical energies and their practical applications, but after having several of his theories and designs stolen by his "competitors," he closeted himself away in a remote tower and continued his work there. His constructs keep him company, along with the occasional freelancer he contracts to find and deliver artifacts and papers.

Sample:
"That's -- that's not the price we agreed on!"

"Then perhaps you should have packed it a little more carefully." The old man raised his finger and flicked his nail against the pale-blue crystal. A shimmering tone filled the room, clear and strong -- apart from an underlying harmonic quiver. "The tonal quality is almost completely ruined."

"It was like that when I got it! They're called ruins for a reason, you know --"

"Then perhaps you should have delved a little deeper. The agreed-upon price was for a pure crystal of perfect tonal quality, and you have not delivered." He waved a hand, dismissing the matter entirely.

The freelancer stared at him, looking much as if he was about to choke on his tongue. His finger stabbed the air, and the old man lifted an eyebrow expectantly, but he only turned on his heel and stalked from the room. He heard swearwords rumble softly from the hallway.

"Well, let's not hire him again, hmm?"

The slender construct on his left shifted, the wave of her dark hair spilling over her shoulder.

"I've amended the roster."

"Excellent."

The sound of the door slamming below the spire was accompanied by the sound of shattering glass, and the old man sighed, slouching back in his chair.

"What in heaven's name did he break?"

She paused, tilting her head, and her shallow eyes went momentarily distant.

"A crystal chalice."

He lurched upright. "Not my --"

"A gift from Lady Claran of Windward following your alleviation of her condition."

"Oh. Well, if it wasn't the tonal chalice, it's no great loss." He sighed again, lifting a thin hand to his forehead. "I'm beginning to think I'm far too old for this. Did he steal anything this time?"

"A stone. Round, black. Its resonance is shifting."

He cursed. "How could he have even found that?" He waved his hand. "Go retrieve it, Liev. We can't afford to have it jostling about in that idiot's pocket. I should have destroyed it years ago."

She didn't answer, gone from the room before he'd lifted his hand from his forehead. What kind of days were these, when the only good help you had was the help you built yourself?