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A fragrance, much like a soliloquy, unfolds in time. It hath a beginning, a middle, and a most lingering end. To list mere 'notes' of Bergamot or Sandalwood is as dry as a bone in the desert! But a poem—ah!—a poem alloweth the soul to see the scent before the nose hath even drawn breath.
Aye, our fragrances are born of the true-born children of Mother Nature. We prize the 'living breath' of the jasmine, the 'weeping resin' of the tree, and the 'distilled soul' of the root. While we employ the subtle arts of the alchemist to ensure thy scent doth not vanish like a ghost at cockcrow, we eschew the vile toxins and painted deceits of the common chemist.
Hark to the poetry inscribed upon each folio! Our scents are not merely mixtures, but stories. If the poem speaketh of 'thorns and midnight sighs,' expect a drama of deep rose and shadow. If it singeth of 'golden dawns and citrus laughter,' thou shalt find a bright and merry companion. Trust the words, for they are the scent’s own shadow.
Once thy gold is counted and thy order sealed, our couriers take to their steeds with all haste.
- The Toll: The cost of the journey is calculated at the merchant’s gate, varying by the leagues between our apothecary and thy castle.
- The Arrival: Expect the messenger’s knock within three to seven days for local travels. Should the voyage cross great seas, the stars shall dictate the duration.
Mark me well: often, when a lord or lady purchaseth a full-sized Scented Tome, our alchemists may slip a complimentary sample of a different reference into the carriage. 'Tis our way of whispering, 'Pray, look what other dramas await thee.'
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