He took a breath and reached down to flip open the lid, revealing the flask remained where it lay, full and untouched. Well, if nothing else, the entire ordeal hadn’t been for nothing… yet. He closed the lid and the drawer, opening the third only to find nothing but broken quills, scrapped and torn papers and broken ink bottles. Disappointed at the relative mundanity of everything in the room, fancy armour aside, Spike couldn’t help but notice the lack of certain things. There was not a single piece of correspondence, old or new, to be found anywhere, which was odd for someone of Handy’s supposed station in Gethrenia and the rumours surrounding him being the spymaster on top of the King’s personal agent. Although, if the former were true, the lack of correspondence was probably a point in itself. He was about to leave when he suddenly remembered something.