Before the stern provincial magistrate can press any further for a complete ballistic reconciliation of the district's matchlock reserves, a heavy-jowled, silk-robed administrator elbows his way past the timber pillars. With the unblinking, bureaucratic finality of an unexpected IT asset audit, the official thrusts an unexpected secondary summons directly into Ryan's chest. It is a formal, ink-spattered decree demanding an immediate, mandatory quality-control inspection of the district's newly imported, coal-fired steam-powered looms down at the municipal waterfront warehouse—a surreal industrial retrofit that looked suspiciously like a capital expenditure over-run for an unapproved textile plant.
Ryan lets out a quiet, bone-weary sigh, the exact acoustic groan he usually reserved for being voluntold to lead an equipment rollout for a defunct product line. Shifting the massive, cold-welded brass ledger against his aching ribs, he glances down at the calligraphed loom inspection notice with the deadpan patience of a corporate marketing coordinator who had somehow been assigned dual oversight of heavy machinery logistics. With a mild, diplomatic nod, he tucks the parchment into the side pouch of his canvas messenger bag, resigned to yet another impossible operational bottleneck before he could even think about his morning tea.