He turned from the window and trotted over to his desk, the waves crashing against the side of the harbour cabin. Soon enough, he would become more, so much more than a mere harbourmaster. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out the thin tome he had been gifted. The smell of paper filled the room and the rich, luxurious leather covered thrilled him as he ran his hoof down along its spine. The sheer audacity of owning such an item disgusted the Equestrian within him, but he quashed it. The Equestrians were a weak-kneed pony race and he had gone to the Black Isles enclave to be rid of their ilk. He had found the Black Islanders no better. Indeed, the enclavers were little more than Equestrians under a different banner for all the difference they had and he was disgusted with them all.