The sixth sense for outlying wealth quite easily aligned to the two most prominent display on the mage's workshop, namely the pair of weapons placed on opposite side. One was the exquisite polearm that even at a glance was obvious to be the work of a master artisan, the scars of battle only adding to its appeal. The other was as if a direct opposite, a bow whose subdued simplicity seemed to shine in betrayal of its apparent quality despite the light layer of dust covering its surface. Both looked no worse for wear, as if they hadn't stood in the same place for almost two millenia. Elf-made items certainly had longevity.

On a closer sense a lesser tingle came from a workshop desk at one side, the chaotic clutter of personal items strewn on top. It was as if the mage simply up and left one day, leaving his work and items unattended in a manner of someone who expected to be gone for a few hours. A sturdy metal strongbox stood unlocked, some kind of precisely cut red gemstones arranged within. A bulging pouch sat against it, the few coins that spilled out dulled by layers of dust. Finally, roughly at the center of the desk and off to one side amidst a bunch of tools and lenses, sat the last prominent curio of the room.

It's an eerie skull carved from a single piece of large crystal, occultic lines made out of gold symmetrically lining its surface. Upon closer inspection no scratch or other mark can be seen, beside a strangely jagged and uneven slot at the center of the forehead. A chain protrude from the top, as if the entire thing was meant to be worn as some sort of macabre necklace.

By its side was a simplistic hiltless dagger made out of pitch-black obsidian, the shape a perfect fit for the skull's slot. Reflections on its glassy surface seemed to move on their own when the observer's attention was focused elsewhere, but it's probably a trick of the eye.

If anyone's attentive at all, they'll notice that not a speck of dust accumulated on either objects.