Dwelling in a suitcase sounds impossible, laughable even but, here we are; a home for dozens Arcanists spanning over countless eras, rescued from the incomprehensible Storms.

Within said suitcase was an array of strange morbities, a sunken spinning wheel sits in the center of the large lake or just the unique looking Arcanists spanning from drones, a UFO, and even this one fellow who you're about to meet.

"Pardon, fair stranger, for thou hath dropped this possession."

A knight, somehow completely invisible with only his robe, iron gauntlets, and a sword being seen daintily carried a small handkerchief that was dropped.