Deep in Rhysgandy, if you follow the back alleys through an improbable labyrinth of shadowed twists and turns, recite a line of doggerel about a magic sword in front of the light post the three ravens sit upon and strike the third shield hanging on the brick behind, you’ll find yourself before the raven-winged door of the ‘Rooked Knight’.

The Knight is the ultimate specialty store while simultaneously remaining stubbornly undefinable. Most evenings there’s a bar serving a startling range of drinks and there’s always a table where you can order a meal that would shame the half-remembered feasts of childhood. None of that speaks to the Knight’s real purpose, however.

The Knight buys and sells artifacts of the Dreaming and even trucks in the devices of human magics. They never close and all manners of strange beings have business with the Knight through the medium of its half dozen or so clerks and two managers - all sworn to the service of a noble Fae patron they claim to not know the name of.

The Knight’s day manager is a satyr grump that calls himself Doc Graves (actually Caradoc or mundanely Carl, if you want to be insulting). In the early thirties of his latest incarnation, Doc is a sandy-haired, lanky giant of a satyr. A low-ranking pathfinder of house Danaan, he’s essentially abandoned the chill of the autumn world; even it’s memories growing dim in an otherwise razor sharp mind. Anyone who assumes he’s headed for his final party is likely to find themselves in a world of trouble.

While one might think that day manager implies a fairly sedentary position, Doc is rarely running the shop directly, outside of extraordinary circumstances. He’s often out of residence; procuring merchandise, negotiating important sales or otherwise keeping his distance from the most mundane parts of the job. When he is on location it’s often either to handle an emergency or organize an after hours party. Doc hasn’t quite puzzled out the true nature of the Knight’s patron but he’s content to pursue that enigma tangentially to his immediate work.

Doc’s a well known figure in Rhysgandy. He doesn’t much get involved in politics unless someone needs to trade big favors for the use of a particularly valuable asset. He’s a local presence, always willing to help out with trouble that could affect the Knight. Perhaps surprisingly, Doc is genuinely loyal to the ‘Rooked Knight and its mysterious patron. Unlike many of his fellow satyrs, Doc rarely pursues outright carnal relationships in favor of romantic but distant pursuits. Even in Rhysgandy he receives a startling amount of mundane mail and rumor is that as a human he pursued a career writing romance.