Thus, Solam began "shopping" through the ocean of books for those he needed. He was not particularly selective; as long as a book was beneficial to territorial development or public welfare projects, he accepted it without exception.
He continued walking and collecting such books until he reached the edge of this library floor.
It had to be said that the knowledge monks here were truly conscientious. Though their sense of service left something to be desired, their attitude toward books was beyond reproach. Even books that had not been touched for centuries were maintained by these knowledge monks as if they were brand-new.
When it came to their attitude toward books, no one was more obsessive than the monks of Candlekeep.
Solam looked over the books in his cart and felt that he had gathered enough. He was about to head back when, as he turned around, he suddenly noticed someone else pushing a small cart and searching through the shelves for books, just like him.
He was a handsome, refined old man. His flawless white hair had been meticulously groomed and draped down his back. Though it reached his waist, it did not make him look untidy in the slightest. His beard was the same—long, yet equally well-kept. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, and behind the lenses, his blue eyes held a wise, gentle light.
Although he appeared to be in his eighties or nineties, his skin was smooth and fair like that of a youth, without a single wrinkle on his face. His lake-green silk robe further accentuated the detached, scholarly air about him.
Solam glanced over and noticed an emblem embroidered on the clean white cuff of the old man's robe: a blank scroll—the symbol of Oghma, God of Knowledge. He appeared to