Dal Shabet

At Zelig's warehouse, he splurged on three sets of warm clothing for himself and his servants. At least they managed to find the right size, rather than having to settle for whatever Vincent's lackeys could offer.
- Sabers for only a thousand? If I had known, I would have come here right away, - he grumbled discontentedly. - Although, they don't look very good.
He rummaged through the shelves and came across bottles filled with liquids.
- Pfft. A useless rip-off. There hasn't been an injury yet that couldn't be treated with a good old scalpel, hydrogen peroxide, and a stick to bite on, - he saw medical kits. - Not a bad business. They'll take a worn-out bag, stuff it with all sorts of junk like cotton swabs, a stethoscope, a sleep mask, and charge twice the price it's worth. And knowing Nevermore - two and a half to three times the price. There hasn't been an injury yet that couldn't be treated with walks in the fresh air and exercise.
Then Amos's gaze fell on mysterious treatises covered in incomprehensible writings.
- And what is this? - he asked, interested, turning to the man and the boy. - Some Manuals? I thought you were selling various supplies and materials.