He replaced the notebooks, affixed the chain, and turned back to the writing desk proper. It had a fair number of books splayed out across its surface, and to Spike’s surprise, absolutely none of them were what he had been expecting. Books on agriculture, horticulture, geology, and gem trading shared the space with what looked to be a bestiary of the various fauna of Griffonia, a book on animal husbandry, geographical atlases, legal treatises and a study of Gryphonic feudal laws, and a recent medical journal straight from High Mount concerning surgical procedures. The only vaguely magically-related work he could find was a small book concerning alchemical pesticides that looked like it had been nearly torn asunder with how used the pages were. There was one dog-eared section opening up to a page concerning Wallowing’s Grievance, a type of naturally occurring alchemical pesticide that could self-replicate if certain plants were in an area and poison the soil if left unaddressed. The section was underlined and circled with a note reading: ‘Get Crimson’s mad-birds on this.’