Inspecting the Nib

Morning light cuts across the timber surface. I stepped past the ceramic lamp to survey the ledge. Beside an open journal lay an instrument of fine steel and dark lacquer—a fountain pen, uncapped. Its polished nib gleamed like an unsheathed spear point. Kneeling deliberately, I ran the edge of my armored gauntlet along the engraved metal slit, testing its balance and split bevel. A droplet of dark ink clung to the breather hole, dark and precise. The craftsmanship is formidable. I retreated half a step, leaving the weapon unprovoked upon its paper rest.