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Cold Study, Take 2

My study is cold. I sit shivering at my desk, wrapped in a voluminous, old cloak of a style that was popular a good two decades ago. Little gusts of wind drift in, causing the shutters to rattle and shake like a palsied woman's hands. The candle flames dance about like scarves in a wind, as useless for reading by as magelight.

Despite all of this, my study is the warmest room in the house. I am quite tempted to simply move my bedding in here, as well, but that is not done. Even reduced to penurious circumstances, I feel that I must maintain appearances. Why that should be so, I am not entirely certain. It is not as if I move in the circles of Therigestan high society. My family has not been able to afford that since before I was born.