The morning sunlight leaking through the window of the Scribe's office with the man himself sitting on his chair presumably busy, of course he would be busy today. It's his work hours.

The feeble scholar having unkept hair and a twitching eye as he stroked his pen

"What a shame this beautiful morning is wasted by endless extortion."

He spoke indirectly to himself, his eyes fixed on the document that had to be archived letting out a groan of exhaustion.