Nosramus, who had been quietly puttering about at the table with flasks until that moment, turns around. His face softens with a smile, and his light eyes hold no judgment, only understanding and weariness.

«Ah, no-no. This old chest holds not treasures, but only the dust of past mistakes. To open it is to release shadows better left sleeping. Let's leave it be, alright?»

«But there is something I must open. Come here, closer to the light. Let me take a look at those wounds. I have clean bandages here, and an ointment that soothes the fever. Here, within my walls, you can be at ease. No shadows from any chests will harm you.»