CH1: T h e W a t ch m a k e r .

[wheatdos]

[The dim lighting of a contemporary candelabrum left the entire room in a series of long dark shadows. The office of Wheatley McArthur. The place in itself was cramped comfortably in stacks of books, spreadsheets, papers and mangled clock pieces that haven’t been touched in ages. A substantial amount of dust covered the surrounding shelves, undisturbed by the fingers of the clockmaker.
In the silence, there was a strangely soothing and hypnotic sound of the mundane ticking of clockwork. The man, seated at his desk, kept his head low as he was madly scribbling his notes:

Funds
7000
-3200
-------
3800
-900
-------
2900
-2000
-------
900
-625
-------
275
-105
-------
175
-135
-------
40


He let out a large tired sigh, and pushed the messy strands of his hair back. 40 pounds for the entire month.. He put his head down against his desk and closed his eyes, synchronizing his breaths to the sound of the clocks. 40 pounds. 4 weeks. He’d be living off of 10 pounds a week. He knew that he’d be able to do it alone, but... he had Cecelia now. His apprentice. The idea of how he would be able to make ends meet literally made him sick.
He knew that he would have to get into that business again.]