Novice
A tall, slender man with a slightly hunched posture from years of poring over documents and ledgers descended the stairs. His confident gait and footsteps signaled a healthy individual, despite his age.
His thinning hair, peppered with streaks of silver, was combed back and meticulously maintained, just like his sharp, vibrant blue attire with its extravagant contrasting silver embroidery. It made Lansius’ secondhand tunic seem second-rate.
Lansius gulped as the man exuded an aura of eccentricity. Unlike the predatory air of the noble, this man meant business.
“Well?” Master Hubert asked impatiently.
The staff member, not much older than Lansius, hastily introduced his master, “This is Master Hubert, the vice-“
“Current Head Clerk of Riverstead Municipal Office,” Hubert corrected. “The old fool vanished before the siege, and we’ve been unable to bribe because of him. Lord Maurice should have listened!” he rambled and continued quickly, “Now, how may I help you?”
“The letter,” Lansius found his voice.
“Yes, I read it. But you’re not trained in bookkeeping.”
“I have been trained, Master Hubert, just not in the Imperium standardized bookkeeping style,” Lansius countered with as much technicality as his vocabulary allowed.
Hubert glanced at Lansius and cast his judgment, “The Eastern style is not to be trusted.”
“I’m not from the Eastern Kingdom. Indeed, theirs is not as advanced,” Lansius clarified, standing tall.
Old Hubert let out a sharp sigh and extended his right arm. The staff member hurriedly placed Lansius’ letter into the master’s palm. Hubert gave it another glance and noticed Stefi in her black gambeson, a color of wealth. The Captain’s scribe signage, the claim of being part of the young Lord’s retinue, and a wealthy squire at his side led Hubert to guess that Lansius was either a wealthy donor or a bastard.
Fortunately or unfortunately for Lansius, Hubert completely missed his black hair that jutted out from his hat. The Head Clerk looked around, and without even catching his gaze, the servant boys scrubbed the floor harder and faster.
“I can’t ignore the Captain’s wishes, so be it,” Hubert said without even facing Lansius. He then quickly added to his staff, “Don’t let him touch ink or paper. Get him into storage and see if he can help in any way.”
“Gratitude,” Lansius replied sincerely. Though he hadn’t recovered his memory from his past, he somehow knew this treatment all too well.
As Master Hubert climbed back up the stairs, Lansius was left with the same staff member who didn’t mince words. “Are you a noble?”
“No,” Lansius replied, knowing he would be at the bottom of the pecking order.
Before the staff member could nod, Stefi stepped forward. “He’s my master, though, and a direct retainer of young Lord Arte. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“There should be no problem between us. My name is Vince. I’m not very smart, but my family has been clerks here for generations.” He extended his hand to Lansius.
Lansius grasped Vince’s hand, saying, “Call me Lansius, I hope I can be of help.”
“Hopefully so. We need lots of hands to clear this mess,” Vince rubbed what little goatee he had. Lansius noted that the man’s hair was neat and slick, a sign that he was trying hard despite his modest introduction.
“Oi, Jan, come here,” Vince suddenly called for one of the boys.
A bright-looking boy stopped scrubbing and ran toward them. “Yes, Vince?”
“Take care of Lansius for me. Show him the empty quarter at the far end, so old Hubert doesn’t see him,” Vince added. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Lansius replied lightly, but then asked, “Empty quarter?”
“For your lodging, of course. You’re a clerk now, not a scribe. We can’t let new staff go in and out every day; there are too many risks involved. But don’t worry, the dormitories are quite neat. You’ll like it unless you’re from a much higher station than me.”
“Ah,” Lansius nodded and exchanged glances with Stefi, who was also nodding excitedly. They had just solved Lansius’ housing problem, and he got it for free.
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I have to buy something for that Captain. The man’s a hero!
Vince furrowed his brows, watching the duo’s reaction, suspicious of their relationship, but continued, “As I said before, Jan will show you the room and then escort you to the storage. That’s all, Junior.”
Lansius chuckled. Vince introduced himself as a fool, but in the end, he asserted his seniority. “Yes, Senior Vince, I’ll comply.”
Vince looked pleased as he patted Lansius’ right arm and headed out to the guardhouse, likely to lecture them for allowing a guest to enter without notice.
“Come, Master Lans, Squire. I’ll show you the room,” Jan happily motioned for them to follow him up the stairs.
***
Lansius and Stefi followed Jan to a quarter on the third floor of the same building. The complex, while old and fortified with grey stones on the outside, boasted a more refined interior that was plastered and painted a pastel orange.
Despite the aging paint, the corridor remained neat and more attractive than most buildings Lansius had entered. The place was well ventilated. From the window, Lansius could observe the comings and goings at the building’s gate.
Another window offered a view of the storage room entrance, likely designed for monitoring purposes.
The three walked past the row of rooms for the officials working there, noticing that only half were occupied since many hadn’t returned to Riverstead.
“This is the place,” Jan said as they reached the furthest end, pushing the door open.
Lansius detected a damp smell, but the room was adequate and showed little evidence of looting. The walls were plastered, and since they were on the third floor, the flooring was made of timber. The room also had a glass window, which Jan promptly opened, letting in a fresh breeze and sunlight.
It’s glass...
This window was the first high-quality glass Lansius had seen in this world. It was lightly tinted but transparent, unlike the ones used in lanterns, which were only as transparent as parchment or fabric.
The room contained a proper raised bed with legs, a mattress without bedding, a small worktable, a chair, and a wardrobe.
“Do you like it?” Jan asked cheekily.
“I will, after I clean this,” Lansius replied.
Jan grinned. “I’ll help you with it.”
Stefi approached the wardrobe and discovered a selection of fine linen clothing. There was even a silk undergarment. “Is the owner not returning?” she asked.
Jan licked his lips and said, “The previous owner is unlikely to return. He’s one of the few who ran before the siege happened, along with the stolen money.”
Stefi nodded, reached into the drawer, and found several woolen socks; old and new, long and short. She picked the old ones and signaled for Jan to take them.
“For me, Squire?” Jan asked uncertainly.
She nodded and said, “I’m Stefi. It’s nice to meet you, Jan.”
Lansius understood the intention and added, “If we find more, we’ll give you more. Would that be a problem?”
Jan shook his head. “Maybe someone will ask, so don’t give them all away at once.”
Stefi chuckled, glanced at Lansius, and remarked, “He’s smart.”
Pleased with the compliment, Jan bowed his head. “Oh, don’t put your bag here yet. We should get the key first, but that has to wait until supper.”
“Well, that can wait. Let’s head down to the storage and see what my job looks like,” Lansius said with a hint of excitement. After being stranded in a barn all winter, he too wanted some piece of action worth his skills.
***
Ground Floor.
At Lansius’ request, Jan led them to the ground floor, where they encountered three cavernous warehouses that made the storage area. Each warehouse could accommodate three carts at once for loading or unloading.
After introducing themselves to the other staff, Lansius quickly surveyed his designated work area and found it a mess. His shoulders slumped as he took in the chaotic scene that resembled a crash site more than a warehouse.
Sacks of grains and flour were piled haphazardly, wooden crates were scattered everywhere, and piles of leather curled from mismanaged storage, giving off a strong odor.
Earthen jugs, likely filled with wine, were tied against the wall to an old wooden rack, while wooden or wicker baskets of various sizes held smaller jugs.
To make matters worse, dozens of wooden barrels blocked the way, making it hard to move around. Some of the unmarked barrels contained ale, while others were filled with goods like nails, fur coats, or blankets.
“The Lord just won a tremendous victory at a fort near the Grand River,” Jan said proudly, referring to the battle that took place while Lansius was still traveling to Riverstead.
“I can see that,” Lansius observed another unsorted pile near the warehouse gate, likely dumped after the valuables were recovered.
“This is going to take ten men and a week just to tidy things around,” Stefi commented with stiff lips.
Lansius let out a sigh. He approached the mess, trying to figure out where to start.
“The workers are at your command if you need help,” Jan informed him. “I can’t stay for long, though. I’ll be needed in the kitchen soon.”
“For lunch?” Stefi guessed. “Will we get any?”
“Of course. Where do you want to take your lunch?” Jan inquired.
“Probably here,” Lansius said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve got a lot of work to do today.”
“This is just like Ceresia,” Stefi quipped as Jan left the warehouse.
“Ceresia isn’t plundered and pillaged like this," joked Lansius.
That old fart, he named me a clerk but gave me manual labor...
Lansius exhaled deeply. He had joined Lord Arte and traveled to Riverstead, enduring winter and war, with the expectation of working on something important. Yet, the reality of life kept pinning him down. Slowly, he examined the crates one by one and sketched a crude map on a wax tablet, trying to come up with a plan.
...
As time passed, their efforts seemed to have little effect. Despite working through lunch, Lansius, Stefi, and a single worker had only managed to rearrange some of the items. The storage area now appeared even more chaotic, like a half-finished puzzle of misplaced pieces.
“This isn’t working,” Lansius mumbled, sitting on a crate, his blue tunic soaked with sweat.
“We only got one worker, and the rest just nod their heads when called, but leave as soon as someone else calls them back,” Stefi replied, sweat dripping from her chin.
Lansius observed the workers in the neighboring warehouse and snorted, realizing their tactics.
Whether working here or there, hard or not, the pay is probably the same. It’s time to change the game.
“Stefi,” Lansius called.
“Yeah?” she noticed the shift in his tone.
“I need your help with something—something that might solve our problem.”
Stefi looked around at the disorganized warehouse. “Show me your magic, Lans, because we won’t finish this on our own.”
***