In the grand tradition of those who till soil they do not own, I toil upon contraptions I scarcely comprehend. By day, a humble servant in the fields of enterprise. By night, a craftsman with aspirations greater than his purse.

I forge tools for the common folk — instruments of scribes, utilities for the weary tradesman, and other such works of modest ambition. All are offered freely, for I have not the temperament for commerce nor the stomach for tithes.

Should these humble works have served you well, a coin in the coffer or a word of kindness would not go unnoticed. A serf must eat, and the candle wax does not replenish itself.