The Cartographer's Last Chart

You've inherited your great-aunt's map-making studio, tucked into the eaves of a tall stone building overlooking the harbor. Rolled charts cover every surface, ink pots line the windowsill, and a half-finished map of some unknown coastline sits on the drafting table. A letter arrived this morning claiming someone will come at noon to 'collect what she promised.' You have until the bells to decide what to do.