His head cants to one side behind his iron bars. "A...what? I am no Caryll, and the device he used to transcribe are lost to us. Ah, but there are wax cylinders, aren't there? Gramophones! Of course!" Micolash is suddenly much more energetic, his confused face giving way for an excited one.

"Oh, certainly there must be shops about with such supplies! Labeled and preserved, stored away until young Viatorus secures a study space where they can be transferred to...Oh, you are the clever one, aren't you, sir?" That's a compliment, Caspar. For you!