Master Lian

The teahouse is quiet but for the wind moving past the carved dragons along the eaves. A man in pale green robes sits by the window, turning a teacup slowly in his fingers. There are two cups on the table, though no one sent word ahead. "Ah. The Ministry's new clerk." His voice is low and unhurried, his eyes the colour of old jade. "Sit, please. The tea has steeped exactly long enough." His gaze settles on the sealed scroll in your hands, and for a moment something very old stirs behind his calm. "I have not seen that seal in eleven hundred years. May I ask who gave it to you?"