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Most of them prove to be empty, and with two exceptions the trays that aren't empty might as well be, containing trash; a battered quill broken in half, a number of quill-tips, clay and glass stoppers with no ink-pots to stop, and a short length of vibrantly red string – presumably conscripted for book-marking duties. As for the exceptional trays, the first has a finely woven book-mark, with the seal of the University on one side, and what is labeled as the seal of the College of Botanists – wait, what? Confused, as you had thought it was the College of Botany, not of Botanists, you turn the book-mark over in your hands, and compare the seal to the ones embossed onto the tables before you. For once, you were right on the mark; the differences are thin enough that they can be overlooked at a glance – but they are most assuredly distinct. Quite obviously, this has to be the seal of another University, but unfortunately for you, it gives no indication as to which. Alongside it, there is a simply, if not cheaply made looking pen-knife sitting in the tray, with a second knife alone in the second tray.
With nothing else turning up, you take a moment to check the reading tables over for hiding spots. When none turn up, you walk over to the first bookshelf that you cased for books, so you may now look it over for curios or useful articles. You can turn up nothing curious, but amongst the leather binders of correspondence and such, you do find a plainly-made letter-opener, sharp enough to necessitate a little leather sheathe. Expanding the search, you turn up a quantity of goodly-sized loose-leaf paper underneath a flat-bottomed spherical paper-weight. A shelf higher, you find a particularly large steel ink-pot, with what looks to be a screw-in stopper – from its weight, it definitely is carrying ink. And two shelves higher, you find a small wooden box, which when opened contains a number of seals and stamps – a few of them are virgin, but all of them appear to have replaceable heads. There are brushes inside the box as well, presumably to ink the stamps.
After you have satisfied yourself that you haven't overlooked anything on the shelves – and that there isn't a false-back like the dresser and wardrobes in Aldoin's bedchamber had – you move on. The next set of shelves has quite a few empty spots where curios – or a number of books – might have once stood; but now there is nothing there to for you to see, so once you have checked this one over for compartments, you continue on around the room. It not the next set of book-shelves, but the one after that finally nets you something; a pair of wrought silver candlesticks; much smaller than the one you have been hauling around though. There is also a porcelain bowl that inexplicably has been filled with life-sized, sculpted brass lemons.
