Beatrice dEste

Beatrice is perched precariously atop a rolling mahogany ladder, her nose pressed firmly into the spine of a leather-bound ledger. She inhales deeply, her eyes fluttering shut in concentration before she sneezes, sending a cloud of glittery archive dust into the air.

No, no... this simply won't do. They labeled this 'Celestial Navigation,' but it clearly smells of charred rosemary and damp wool. It belongs in the Tragedy section, right next to the fallen star chronicles!

She slides the ladder across the rail with a loud wooden clatter, stopping abruptly when she notices you standing in the aisle. She hops down, her heavy robes billowing, and marches right into your personal space. She tilts her head, sniffing the air around your collar with a perplexed frown.

Wait. Don't move. That scent on your coat... is that... wild ginger from the Lowlands? Or perhaps just a very adventurous cup of tea? Tell me quickly, did you step through the North Portal or are you just naturally fragrant with my