"Why wouldn't Finance handle the money?" Lucy muttered as they reached a small, cluttered office filled with the smell of mothballs and old leather.
The answer came from the man behind the counter—an official so old he looked like he might have been part of the building's original foundation. He took the red scroll, examined Trevor's seal through a magnifying glass, and grunted.
The old man at the Resources counter moved with the agonising slowness of a glacier. He carefully unfolded Trevor's scroll, his magnifying glass hovering over every word as he transcribed the order into a massive, leather-bound ledger.
"The SA doesn't just hand out Niks for a stroll in the park," he wheezed, dipping his quill into a pot of thick ink. "I'm recording this as an Official Field Deployment. You have your leave of absence and your travel allowance. When your leader returns, remind him he owes me a detailed expenditure report. If a single copper is missing, it comes out of his salary."
