[The Watchers Union] Homework

[Perdita Westcott]

Homework

15th Ashan, 721
Shortly after this

The Watchers Union.

Perdita had not long left her meeting with Woe and she was, it had to be said, somewhat overwhelmed by the situation. Trying not to think of the payment he'd given her, because she'd hyperventilate, she turned her mind instead to the task at hand. She'd thought about it, considered it, and she had decided on a way forward. Having spoken with Woe, she knew what she had to do and she'd stopped at the Lemon Messy to have a quiet drink while she gathered her thoughts. She'd gotten her notebooks ready and she was, she decided, prepared.

Which was odd, because she didn't feel prepared.

The thing that Perdita needed to do, she knew, was to simply and solely be herself. If she tried to be some kind of undercover anybody here, she was going to crash and burn in the worst way possible. She smiled to herself as she thought that and considered that one research task was - apparently - enough to send her into dramatic and over-exaggerated language. No, what she needed to focus on here was not lying. Telling the truth. Being who she was.

Because, she was a researcher - a student of history - who had been given some homework. It was true. It was what she was and - since she was going to do her homework on this place, Perdita decided, she needed to start here. So, she made her way to the Watchers Union and she walked in. It was - of course - a large and open space. Perdita really found herself unnerved by those and, just as she had in the glassblowers guild some trials before, she felt out of sorts.

However, there was a reception and so she went there. Her blush was ever-present and the awkward young woman looked at the receptionist and spoke. "Hello," she said, quietly. The receptionist raised an eyebrow and Perdita explained. "I'm studying history, at the University," she said. That did not cause the eyebrow which had raised to lower at all. "I have to choose a place, or event, and compare accounts of it." She pushed over her note book and later she would consider that at least she could be pleased that - in fairness - she was just being honest and trying to explain her homework. "I'd like to base my study on the Watchers Union here. I wonder," she said, earnestly. "Could you tell me, has there been any study of this place, previously?"

Those may be, Perdita considered, the longest sentences she'd ever said. So, she smiled, blushed, and pointed to her notebook. "My professor. Deadnut. He'll confirm." Stop talking, Perdita, she thought. Just. Stop. Talking.

[Jackalope]

Brochure covers notebook. I win!

The receptionist’s job was to be friendly, welcoming, and, if possible, helpful, to give visitors a good…you know, reception. And he saw all sorts of people coming in with all sorts of requests, some appropriate to this place of business, others not so much. He had no idea where to put this one as the awkward young girl pushed a notebook towards him. His first instinct had been to tell her that he couldn’t help her, which would hopefully make her go away and free up his time to do other things.

Specifically, he had brochures to copy, block-printed pamphlet things that had to have their pages stamped with text carved on the wooden plates in just the right orientation and sequence, then folded and cut just so. It was both physically and mentally draining, and it required he step away from his desk to ink, print, and collate. Why had they fired the pamphlet girl, anyway? To save money? It certainly didn’t save him trouble.

His eyebrows lowered from their previous skeptical position to an intent figuring-non-sense-out location as he looked at the notebook the weird girl had pushed at him. History? She was researching history? And then the light came on. Of course! It was brilliant. His expression cleared and gave the girl his best “Happy-to-help” smile.

”History, you say? I think I have something I can give you.” He rummaged through a shelf under his desk as he spoke. ”We have a brochure we send to prospective clients, and it includes a section on the Watcher’s Union’s history that’ll be just what you need, I think. I have some loose extra sheets of that very section here, I think.” He pulled something out and looked at it, nodded approvingly. ”Yes, this is it. Here you go.”

He placed a large sheet of paper across the top of Perdita’s notebook, then pushed both items back towards here. Perdita could see it was a folio, with two pages printed side-by-side on the sheet. Upon looking at it, she would see that the other side also had a pair of block-printed pages stamped on it. ”Go ahead,” the receptionist invited. ”Take a look.”

Upon looking, Perdita would find the following neatly-printed text.

The Watcher’s Union: A Tale of Persistence and Innovation

Who are the Watcher’s Union? What sets us apart? How do we plan to grow and prosper over the long term? Whoever understands their heritage and history are the ones best positioned to achieve success today and shape their own destinies in the trials the come.

A Hundred Arcs of Challenges Met

Those challenges began in Arc 628, when a lowly-yet-enterprising shipping clerk working at the Egilrun docks realized that poor land-side security and communication were causing merchants to lose money due to cargo either being stolen from storage or in transit, or to languishing too long in warehouses without acknowledgment from their consignees, who were often oblivious to their goods’ arrival. That clerk’s name was Eli Lamkey.

Originally an informal network without any official name, the network of agents that Eli established was soon active throughout Egilrun and its vicnity, providing both security to warehouses to protect stored freight, and messenger services to shippers wishing to contact the intended recipients of their cargo’s arrival. These same messengers would then return with instruction from those recipients, so that the goods could be properly disposed.

By Arc 633, Egil’s Watchers, as they had become informally but widely known, had become a successful enough outfit that Eli decided to formally establish a company, which, from 634 on has been known as the Watcher’s Union…

The narrative continued in this vein for perhaps another page. It was perhaps not the sort of detailed record Perdita had been hoping for, but it did tell her the following general things:

- That the Watcher’s Union had remained in the Lamkey family for all its not-exactly-hundred-arc history,
- That Eli’s business had grown and flourished remarkably in a matter of a few arcs selling its services to customers in Egilrun “and nearby institutional installations”.
- That the Watcher’s Union had for almost that entire time offered the same core services: security for goods shipped or in storage and courier services geared towards notifying shippers and consignees of one another’s wishes, and of the status of their deliveries.
- That the Union, though still very centered in Egilrun, now offered services throughout island.
- That the Watcher’s Union relished the challenges to come as they carried their founder’s unfaltering commitment to service and excellence through the next hundred arcs.

Perdita might also notice that references to the slave trade, as well as any mention of Slag’s Deep by name, were conspicuously absent from the text.

The receptionist watched the visitor, to gauge her level of satisfaction. As much as he wanted her to just disappear, he also didn’t want any bad customer feedback getting to Tobias. Speaking of pleasing Tobias: ”If you give me your Professor’s address, I’d be happy to send him a complete brochure, which will of course include this section.” He smiled, waiting for Perdita to be satisfied and go away.

[Perdita Westcott]

Homework

15th Ashan, 721
Shortly after this

Perdita listened to the receptionist as he spoke and she nodded, earnestly. Sometimes, she thought, she risked a whiplash from her nods, so she decided to tone it down a little. Small head movements should be sufficient, she was sure. "Thank you!" Her pleasure at being given any notice or attention at all was high, so when she was then handed over a brochure, she was delighted. There was a lot of information there, already, and she was more than pleased. He said, though, that there was more - more than this? She looked up to thank him, and he said that he would be happy to send a brochure to her Professor.

"Of course," she said and wrote down the name and room number and details for Professor Deadnut. Although, there was another point here, and Perdita considered it. "Do you have a spare?" She asked that because, although this was helpful, it was also not complete and she might be able to glean some more information on the rest of the brochure. The receptionist told herchecked with Jackalope that she could have the loose leafs, and Perdita smiled her thanks. "Thank you," she said, careful not to nod. There was no hiding that she was delighted, though, as she looked at this. There would be a lot of information here, and it would be useful. Now, she only needed to find another source of information about the Union.

Thankfully, Perdita had more or less forgotten that she was here with another reason. She was intrigued by the history and so on of the place and so she was very genuinely entranced by the information provided. "I have to compare two sources," she said, softly. "Do you know of any other studies of the Watchers' Union?"

Looking at the loose leafs, she realised that there was a possibility here and the earnest young woman spoke again. "Are you constructing it now?" she asked, of the brochure. "I'm a book-binder," she explained. "I made this," the notebook from earlier was, indeed, one of her own creation. "I could help you make brochures." She smiled - and blushed (but didn't nod) as she spoke. "As thank you," she explained, holding the loose leafs. "if you want." And again, with the brief sentences which led to another, and then another. So, once more, she stopped talking and waited to see what the receptionist thought.

[Jackalope]

The receptionist got half of what he wanted: Perdita seemed satisfied and even pleased with the help he had offered her; however, she didn’t go away. But her remaining questions, fortunately, didn’t seem too hard. He had an extra copy of the history pages, though not of a whole brochure. Other histories? Not that he knew of-

-He stopped short a trill. ”There was some guy a while back who tried to start a project about the Lamkey family history. Wanted to interview the family memmbers, and so forth. I couldn’t tell you what he found, though. His older brother’s here in town, but I think the guy himself went to Scalvoris or something. Wanted to study once the Academy opened.” He wrinkled his forehead. ”something Klepe. Loomy, Loony, Lumpy, something. Like I said, his older brother hangs out at the Lemon Messy a lot, maybe he could tell you more. Lee something.” He ended by giving Perdita a that’s-all-I-got shrug.

Perdita’s offer to help took the receptionist aback, and he gazed at her a moment, thinking. It wasn’t hard to see that he was of two minds. ”That’s a nice offer, but my boss’d probably have my hide, especially if you hurt yourself or, more importantly, got blood on the pages.” He paused to see if that would make the young lady blanch or something. A trill or two later he looked about anxiously, then leaned towards Perdita furtively and asked: ”Have you ever sewn signatures together? Because if you’re handy with a needle, that would certainly save me some time.”

He leaned back and smiled, seeming to see her for the first time. ”My name’s Fronner, by the way.”

ooc

If you accept Fronner's offer, he'll take you to back to the printing room, where there is a stack of ten or so brochure's worth of folios waiting to be collated and sewn together. Each brochure has two signature's worth of folio leaves, so not that thick. The brochures have a simple parchment cover that is also sewn.

[Perdita Westcott]

Homework

15th Ashan, 721
Shortly after this

She noted the names which he gave her - writing down all possible spellings as he spoke them. Fronner didn't know what had happened to the man, but it was definitely a start as far as Perdita was concerned. "Would I be able to arrange interviews with them?" Perdita asked. She had not been quite able to bring it into the conversation at that point, but he'd given her the perfect opportunity. "I can come back, wait for a convenient time."

But either way, once she was gone from here, she would make her way to the Lemon Messy. However, in the right here and right now, there were papers to thank Fronner for, which she did most genuinely. And then, she offered her help. He seemed surprised, then uncertain. She had no wish to upset him, but she also had no intention of getting her blood on the parchment. She had made a number of books now, and she was not prone to self-injury. He asked her, then, if she had sewn signatures together and she nodded. "Many times," she said. If he needed evidence, she would show him the notebook he had already seen, and the signatures on that. Then, he let her help him and she smiled. "Perdita," she said, shaking his hand as he introduced himself.

In the print room, she saw that they were working with only a two-signature folio, and she nodded. Perdita was careful, always, to do her very best work. So, she carefully and meticulously collated them (checking that she had all the information in them as she did). Then, she lined the signatures up, carefully, making sure that they were flush and flat. It was important for the finish of the final piece. If they were already holed, that was fine, but if not she would put the holes in, carefully measuring exactly where the holes went twice before she actually made them. It was close work, and she kept her focus as best she could.

Once she was absolutely sure that everything was in place and ready, Perdita began the process of stitching the signatures. Starting with the bottom one each time, she tied a knot in the thread and inserted her needle into the very lowest hole. These first couple of holes were more difficult, always, as the thread hadn't yet settled at the eye of the needle. But then, she was able to weave it back and forth. Then, she put the second signature down on top of the first one, put the needle into the top hole of that one, and sewed her way back down the spine, making sure that everything was tight, but not too tight.

She would stay and work as long as Fronner wanted her to, that wasn't a bother. Her work was of a reasonableCompetent with 35 XP and 16 knowledge in Bookbinding standard and she did her best. Also, while she was there in the printing room, Perdita would take the time to look around (if she was alone in there at any point) and to see if there was anything which might be useful or interesting. Anything about Slags Deep or employment records which she could see she would do her best to see - to read - or even to copy if she had the chance. But, that all depended on Fronner, and she would not take any risks.

[Jackalope]

Fronner frowned when Perdita asked if she could come back to interview someone. ”We’re not hiring at the moment -oh, you meant a different sort of interview.” The receptionist thought a moment, shook his head. ”Mr. Lamkey’s a busy man, though he’s usually happy to talk to the public when he has time. But since the end of last season he hasn’t been available for much of anybody. I have a list of about ten visitors he will see. At all. Strange.” He trailed off, and his expression tinged with fear just then as he glanced around to make sure no one had overheard them. He bent secretively towards Perdita and muttered: ”(And no, before you ask, I won’t show it to you nor tell you those names.)”

He leaned back upright and then gestured for Perdita to follow him back to the print room. It was an amply-sized room, and had enough windows to be well-ventilated, but it was crammed with bulky bits of furniture, a couple work tables dominating the floor space and several large shelves that covered so much of the walls some of them overlapped those windows. On their shelves Perdita could see numerous printing blocks, as well as various supplies such as paper and ink. Fronner pointed out the sewing kit to her, next to which was a ball of linen thread. Next to *that* was a rounded, leathery implement with a small handle on top, vaguely resembling an undersized pumpkin. The bookbinder might recognize it as an inker.

Fronner handed Perdita the sewing kit and pointed her to the smaller of the worktables, which was still of decent size. On one end of it were the stacks of brochure leaves. He showed her the order they went in, then set down the inker on the larger worktable; he took down and arranged the printing blocks and a stack of blank paper. If Perdita peeked, she would see the blocks were hand-carved, not composed out of any sort of moveable type. Finally, out of a corner, Fronner retrieved something that looked like a rolling-pin for giants. ”I have no idea how she managed this every trial,” he grunted, before lowering the thing with a *thud* onto the worktable.

Perdita would find the kit she had to work with amply stocked with what she needed. Whoever “she” had been, she had known her job. While she worked, Fronner inked plates, placed paper over them and rolled impressions onto them with the rolling pin thing. He seemed to know what he was doing, but he did it slowly, cautiously, and it seemed to take all his concentration. He hardly spoke again to Perdita or even looked at her except when he paused to carry the paper over to the drying rack that stood under one of the windows.

When she was finished, he looked over the brochures and seemed satisfied. ”This is good, ” he mumbled. ”You and Deytha would have gotten along, I bet.” He looked up and smiled. ”Thank you for your help.” he said. ”Go ahead and take one of the complete brochures if you like. We can’t pay you since no one who could hire you agreed to it. But I figure you’ve earned it.” The smile left his face. ”We should get back up front. As to any other records, I’m afraid I can’t do that. All that stuff is locked away tighter than a drum someplace else.”

He pointed at the brochure. ”That and Klepe is all I really have for you today, sorry.” He shrugged. He really seemed a bit apologetic.

[Perdita Westcott]

Homework

15th Ashan, 721
Shortly after this

Perdita nodded when Fronner said no, and when he whispered to her she smiled and whispered back. "That's perfectly alright." She said no more, because she was of the opinion that anything else would make him uncomfortable. She followed him dutifully into the printing room and she looked around in pleasure. The smell of it was wonderful, and it was somewhere she felt at home. However, as soon as she got into the print room and once she was confident he wasn't watching, she made a note in her note book about what Fronner had said. That was, she was sure, important.

Perdita concentrated on her work, but she also watched Fronner. She'd never used a printing press before, so she was intrigued to see it in action. Every now and then, she would ask a question, if he was at all amenable to answering them. Simple things like "What's that used for", or "How do you make sure it's evenly inked" and so on. Nothing ground-breaking, and if he didn't answer or seemed to not want to, she stopped asking.

He dropped a name as he was checking her work and Perdita noted it, but said nothing more than, "Thank you. For the opportunity." She smiled at him and added, "I learned a lot," because she had. She beamed at his offer of the brochure and she shook her head. "Please, don't apologise," she said, earnestly. "You've been so helpful. Thank you." Then, because it was time, she made her way out of there and she bade him farewell.

Outside, she wrote the names Fronner and Deytha in her notebook and then she went to the Lemon Messy. There, she would order a drink and something to eat and she would ask, quietly and politely, if there was a Mr Klepe here to-trial or, if they might know where she could find him.

[Jackalope]

Fronner’s answers to Perdita’s questions while they were assembling the brochures were curt -not because he was unfriendly or unwilling to help so much as because the process took up most of his concentration. He had only just recently been pressed (ha!) into this duty after Deytha had left. In some cases, all he could say were things like: “practice” or: “trial and error”, largely because that was all the instruction or explanation he had ever received himself.

He felt gratified and relieved when Perdita took her leave: she was satisfied and had gone away. Unlike what he had dreaded, however, it had actually been a fruitful and diverting visit. The reception was supposed to say: ”And thank you for visiting the Watcher’s Union; we look forward to seeing you again!” yet this time he could not bring himself to say it. Under the circumstances, it just sounded stupid, and Fronner hated sounding stupid, especially when young women were around.

Perdita went out into the crisp early-Ashan air and headed next to the Lemon Messy. A large pavilion, formed out of the inverted hull of a ship, fronted the establishment. This was mostly empty when Perdita arrived, on account of both the early break and the chilly weather. Perhaps three or four patrons sat near the bar in the back, tended to by a bartender the young sleuth could not see very well from the front. Near the very front, in the sunlight, with his back leaned against the arching hull, sat a tall, lean figure, all in black. He had a thin black mustache and gray eyes. His breath, his warm drink, and the cigar in his mouth all gave out smoke or mist that wreathed his head in a tobacco-and-hot-buttered-rum-scented nimbus.

It entertained Leevan Klepe to imagine that this nimbus gave him an intimidating air, that of a mysterious, sinister stranger. But something about the young lady touched him, and so in response to her queries, he decided to play it straight, and friendly. ”Yes, I know this ‘Mr. Klepe’,” he replied to her, repeating her polite style in an amused tone. ”Because ‘Mr. He’ is none other than ‘Mr. Me.’ Have a seat, what can I do for you?”

When Perdita explained her interest in finding Loomis, Leevan regarded her closely for a few trills, enough to provoke a blush from the young lady. A smile wrinkled the corners of those thin grey eyes. "Loomis is my brother, or rather half-brother. He's a deal younger than me, close to your age, I reckon. You from Scalvoris, you say? At the University? And you even study *history*? Well, you've probably walked right past him in the halls, I bet. He looks a lot like me, only younger and without the mustache. Unless he's decided to try to grow one." The last idea seemed to please him.

Leevan Klepe puffed his cigar a couple more times. "He left here right before the end of Zi'da, so he could be in Scalvoris in time to sign up for classes this cycle. He had some kind of research project he was hoping he could get credit for. Something about the local history here in Egilrun. You'd have to ask him about that. He hoped that his work earn him credit for a letter or something." He shrugged his wiry shoulders. "He wrote me right after he got there, but the snows have kept him from sending any mail since. So I don't have any recent news from him. I'm not worried, but if you see him, you could tell him I wouldn't mind hearing from him."

Leevan was happy to take any other of Perdita's questions. Talking to her was the most entertaining thing to happen to him today. Who knew? He might even answer those qeustions.

[Perdita Westcott]

Homework

15th Ashan, 721
Shortly after this

Having bid farewell to Fronner, with thanks, Perdita made her way to the Lemon Messy where, it transpired, the brother of the person she was looking for, was working. She was most grateful - and polite - for his time and information. She briefly considered asking him if she could sketch him so she'd remember his face, but Perdita knew that she would indeed remember him, so there was no need to be concerned. That his brother was studying history was more than enough to make Perdita blush. How foolish, she thought, that she'd come all this way when, frankly, she'd possibly sat next to the person she needed to speak to. Still, this had been a useful thing to do, to come here and if she hadn't come to Egilrun, then she wouldn't have known that she needed to know things. Thus, Perdita decided, it was a good thing that she'd decided to come to Egilrun because if she hadn't decided to come to Egilrun she would never have known what she needed to find out and therefore, although what she needed to find out was in Scalvoris Town, she needed to come to Egilrun to discover that she didn't need to go to Egilrun.

Or, something.

With a smile, Perdita looked at Mr Klepe and she thanked him most effusively. "I can wait, if you want to write to him?" She offered that immediately and without concern. If he wanted her to, she would be delighted to pass on a letter or, failing that then she assured him that she would pass on his message. Also, she would be coming back to Egilrun, she thought, and if and when she did, she'd speak to his brother to get any messages he might have. Then, with an earnest expression she asked, "I wonder," with a very noticeable blush - she hated that she blushed so much, but he'd already been so kind. "Do you know Deytha?" Perdita had very little information to give on this person, other than the fact that she was female, had worked in the Watchers Union and was a bookbinder or print-maker or such.

She considered that maybe she should try and make small talk with Mr Klepe, to try and tease out information from him. The part of her which was really running with the whole "I'm a spy, buahahaaa" briefly wondered about shining lights in his eyes or some such. But, she knew herself too well and she was far too squeamish for torture. Plus, the part of her which was running with the spy-dentity was far outshadowed by her nerdy excitement at the historical study she was undertaking. This place had a real history and she, Perdita Westcott, was going to uncover it. She wouldn't be the first to do so - apparently, Mr Klepe's brother had already started it. But, if she could add just one sentence to the story which was known about this place, then she had achieved a lot.

So, she asked about Deytha and then - unless Deytha was findable (in which case, Perdita would find her) - she would take her leave.

[Jackalope]

Leevan’s tough-guy persona faltered a bit when Perdita offered to write Loomis for him. He smiled, genuinely touched. ”That’s a kind offer, but no. It hasn’t been long enough for me to worry. Just pass on my greetings when you see him, that’d be plenty.” A couple trills passed and he slowly regained his cooler, more detached demeanor. ”I reckon you’ve got more news for him that he’d be interested in than I do at the moment.”

When she asked about Deytha, the man’s forehead wrinkled, and his eyes flicked off in the distance for a moment. ”Deytha…Deytha…” he muttered. ”I’m sure I’ve heard that name. Egilrun’s not that big, and I know a lot of its folk. Printer, you say? Worked at the Watcher’s Union?” He though some more. Realization came to his grey eyes. ”Biqaj lady. Maybe a few arcs older than you. She came here a few times with a biqaj fella, pretty sure he was a sailor of some kind. Pretty, I’d say, but not strikingly so. Quiet, but not timid. Anyway, if she worked as a printer, well, I imagine that’s a skill that pays well in the right places.” Then Leevan shrugged. ”But if she lost her job here, I don’t think there’d be many others for her in Egilrun. She’ll have moved on. Maybe someplace like Scalvoris town. But my money’d be on Viden.”

He shot Perdita a knowing smirk. ”You probably wanted to talk to her. I’m afraid I can’t help you there. But I wish you the best of luck. And I hope Loomis can help you with what you need.”

And with that, it looked like Perdita Westcott had found what she could for the trial. So, leave-taking it was.


[ooc: Looks like we’re about done here. Feel free to write a wrap-up if you like. Or not]