I came to a stop in front of a book stall. It was small with only a few books that had gathered dust. An old man was seated by the stall, and the moment I arrived, he smiled, exposing his crooked teeth.
"Are you here to buy a book? All my books are the best on the continent."
His old broken voice pitched. His hands were shaking, and both of his legs were missing; they seemed to have been carelessly cut off.
His dark eyes looked up kindly at me.
"How much do the books cost?"
I directly asked. The old man's face brightened before he leaned over the books and started to wipe off the dust frantically.
"Not much, my lord, just three silvers each, and you can have them."
I looked at the book that had gotten my attention despite having the most layers of dust. It was the biggest among them almost the size of my torso.
"If you don't mind asking, where did you find your books?"
