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Elo walked into her office, blearily shoving open the door and narrowly avoiding spilling her tea over last night's incident slate. She made it a few steps, kicking the door closed behind her, before she stopped, and stared at her desk. It'd only been a year since she'd finally accepted the promotion from Lieutenant to Captain of the Special Recondite Unit (or the Wiggy Wardens, as some had nicknamed them), and while she was still getting used to the amount of paperwork that landed on her desk, the young Captain knew there should not be three large stacks of notebooks and loose parchment threatening to topple from the elven-carved surface. She stared for a good minute before sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose, then carefully finding a space for the slate and her mug.
"Ardyss, sà itille ?" she asked, turning towards the miniature replica of Fangthane, complete with its golden cap, that the little pseudo-dragon had taken as his perch in her office.
(While she'd be the first to pronounce it a beautiful piece of work, the paladin couldn't help but feel that such a thing - made from gold, silver and gems - would be better served as currency for the purchase of food and clothes. However, on it's gifting, she was informed via the vigorous eyebrow waggling of the dwarven ambassador, and some furious hand-signalling from Snotgrut, that to not accept it would not only be seen as churlish, but her refusal would paint a stain on the honour of the master craftsdwarf presenting it. Thus she had reluctantly received it and placed it on a shelf where Ardyss had claimed it as his own - because, Heaven's knew, Aurianna received enough gifts of her own.)
From his bejewelled perch, the little dragon chirped at her, in greeting and enquiry both.
"Is your master within earshot?" she asked.
Ardyss gave her a long look, before chirping an affirmative.
"Good." Elo walked back to her office door, hauled it open, gave a meaningful look to those few sat in the bullpen - who promptly clapped hands over ears - and yelled out, " SNOTGRUT!! "
"Good morning, Captain," said an affable voice from a foot or two to her left. The woodling turned, as the dark green shadow shifted into the dark green form of her Lieutenant.
"Office. Now," she said, and turned smartly on her heel, reentering the same.
"Something I can do for you, my Lady?" the goblin asked, closing the door behind him. He came to stand at ease in front of her, as the Captain leant against her desk and regarded him.
"What's this?" she asked, gesturing to the piles of papers and books.
"It's your reports," Snotgrut replied, confused, as Elo crossed her arms and frowned at him. "I ordered them by recipient - that far pile is for General Strucker, the middle for Chancellor Thatcher, and the one closest to you is for Grand Magus Thazar. Each stack is ordered by date - monthly summaries between each pile of daily reports - insofar as was possible, of course." He gave her a thoughtful look. "There was that little timeslip in Waking which made things awkward..."
Elo heaved an aggrieved sigh. "Snotgrut," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "what have I told you about doing my paperwork?"
The goblin gave her a little, lost, flick of the shoulder.
"That you are not to do it!"
"Oh."
"I swear we only had this discussion a few months back, but allow me to reiterate: I have been doing my own paperwork since long before you were around. I have not suddenly become incapable just because they added some embellishment to my Watch badge." She huffed out through her nose. "There are far more valuable things to spend your time on than writing my reports. You have much more responsibility these days, and I need you focused on that instead of dotting i's and crossing t's." The Captain crossed her arms again and glanced to the floor. "That's my job now."
"But you hate it."
"Irrelevant. It's what I signed on for when I accepted the embellishments. I need you out there, doing what you're good at."
"I'm good at writing reports as much as putting bolts in bad guys."
Elo screwed her eyes closed. "Lieutenant Snotgrut!" she snapped, a hint of desperation in her voice. She opened her eyes to see the goblin frowning at her.
"Lady Elowyn, do you not want your reports legible?"
"Well, yes-"
"Neatly presented, with no dog-eared corners?"
"-but 'Grut-"
"Organised cohesively?"
"-I'm trying to tell you: be that as it may, you have more important things to focus on." Elo stared at her old companion before sighing again. "Look, if it's that damn important to you, I'll hire a scribe." Snotgrut cocked his head, as though considering the idea. "Though, I can tell you now," Elo continued reaching for her tea, "it's for naught, you know. The Triumvirate don't read the damn things. Certainly, Strucker and Thazar prefer a verbal summary." She took a sip. "Why d'you think I still have meetings with them? We have a catch-up, highlight anything that could be an issue, and then we have a general chit-chat. The men-folk have a drink and I get honey cakes."
Snortgrut frowned, taken aback by her words. "Well, what happens to the reports then?"
"Oh they get passed to a clerk, and stored, I suppose," Elo said, airily flipping a hand.
"Good. Then they don't get thrown out?"
"I doubt it. Some of the Merchants are too fastidious for that."
"Good," the goblin repeated. "It's important to keep records." When Elo, mid slurp, cocked an eyebrow in question he explained, "we don't just have these reports for today. We keep them for future generations, so they know what happened in our present - their past."
Elo snorted. "'Grut, I don't think anyone is going to care that we locked up a bunch of soon-dead cultists on the 12th of Watching."
"But what if one of those cultists was an elf, and a hundred years from now is risen in power, and causing strife? Wouldn't you want those fighting the good fight then to know what you did today to bring them down?"
"I- Huh." Elo frowned at her tea, thinking this over - conceding her lieutenant was annoyingly correct and considered how the dressing down had turned into a discussion of philosophy. She looked back at the goblin. "Lieutenant Snotgrut, I believe you were due to be doing a follow up with Watchhouse 7 about that thing with the Night Siren gang, in approximately one and a half hours. Considering that is on the opposite side of the city, I'd suggest you hoof it."
Smirking, the goblin bowed. "Yes, your Ladyship. Of course, your Ladyship."
Elo gave him a wry twist of the lips, a tilt of the head, and put her hands on her hips. "Out," she said. "And leave my paperwork alone!" she added, as the goblin vanished through her door and into the shadows.
"Legibility he says..." The young Captain took another sip of her tea, frowned, and sighed. "I suppose this means I need to get a scribe," she grumbled to herself, hauling herself away from her desk to pen a missive to the head of the Scrivener's guild.
~ Fin ~