The Horn of battle

Lorenzo Caruso reclined properly into his office chair as he scanned the documents he had just received. The tall lean man with just the tiniest sprout of white hair surrounding his jet black hair readjusted his glasses to see what was written properly. 

No matter the direction he took the glasses, the words remained the same. His mind traveled to several places. He couldn't quite keep track of the numerous issues that were piling up. He didn't think his return to Milan would be met with such a problem. 

Not even in his wildest imagination did he envision a thing like this. He held his head in pain. Raising it back up, he took a slow peak at the words but they remained the same. There was no change whatever. He couldn't resist the urge to scream anymore.