Chapter 11: Chapter 9: Report

“Name?” asked an overworked clerk, flipping her ledger to the next page. At the top, the words “Issuance of Civic Duty” was written.

“Aaron Hildesman.” Charles had dropped Hildesman and the other trappers in a large office, laid out similar to a bank, before running off to other duties. Erwin and Patty were talking to another, equally overworked, clerk at the next desk over.

“Position or rank?”

“Trapper, independent.”

“Next of kin?”

“Pommette Abigail Hildesman; sister.” The clerk looked up, as if wanting clarification on why he had a Vellian name, but his sister had a Mettish one. Hildesman didn’t elaborate.

“Addresses?” The clerk eventually asked, looking back at her ledger. Hildesman recited his address and his sister’s, followed by a variety of other personal information the clerk asked for.

“Please list any personal effects here,” the clerk flipped her ledger around to Hildesman, indicating a set of lines near the bottom. Aaron dutifully listed his tools and belongings, leaving off the survey equipment and his journals from his just-concluded job. They’d have to be dropped off in the twelve hours he had to collect himself.

When he finished, he flipped the ledger back around and passed the clerk the pen. She filled out a scrip with various information, stamped it, examined the stamp under a filtered handlight, and passed it to Hildesman. “Special provisions requests there,” she said, pointing at one of several desks. Various people, several of them with the look of trappers, were queueing in front of the desks. Hildesman joined them. After a while, he was able to list his needs to a man wearing off-duty clothing. Most of it was included in the premade excursion kits the Order was arranging. He received a set of chits stamped with some variety of Tessenium-infused ink for the rest. The Order would be keeping the actual supplies closer to the departure point.

He emerged from the lines and checked the nearest clock. He had ten hours left. He needed to spend at least a couple of them sleeping, as he had not found time to get a nap in the bunkhouse. He hadn’t thought to need one. But first, he had two important matters to attend to.

Fortunately, Brother Thestle’s offices were right here in the same Administrator building where Hildesman had received his scrip of civic duty and his supply chits. The man himself was likely coordinating the execution of these preparations somewhere else, but Hildesman could at least leave his journal and the samples, not to mention Teach’s letter.

To his surprise, Brother Thestle was working out of his actual office; apparently he was in charge of managing the postal relays from this location. He agreed to give Hildesman five minutes to report.

“Good news, in short. Three likely usable deposits. One of them is an old growth deposit, one of the others looked to be very rich.” Hildesman summed up. He set a document case on a shelf, following Brother Thestle’s pointed finger. “Samples, coordinates, daily logs.”

“That is a relief,” Brother Thestle responded, shuffling through a stack of papers, then putting on a pair of spectacles to read from one page, which he passed to Hildesman. “Your pay, as agreed.”

Hildesman didn’t take it. “Take off one day, if you would, Brother. I made a personal detour on the way back.”

Brother Thestle seemed surprised, but marked off one day and passed the paper forward again. “I’m surprised you’re so honest about it. Most would just accept the extra day of pay. The ones who wouldn’t wouldn’t take the detour in the first place.”

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“There were circumstances. Here,” Hildesman extracted Teach’s letter and handed to the other man. “Stopped in to see Gertrae Fennickken. You know her?”

“Of her,” Brother Thestle answered, accepting the letter. He examined the wax, noting the flecks of glasspetal, then unlocked a small drawer in his desk and locked the letter inside. He didn’t show any outward sign of this being unusual, but Hildesman appreciated that he had chosen the locked drawer. “Her and my mentor are old rivals, though sadly Sister Fennickken had already retired before I rose in rank enough to meet her.”

“I was instructed to deliver this letter to you, with my report. It will explain my detour, I hope. And Sister Poriss will likely want to see it as well.”

“I…see. I shall read it as soon as we get this expedition launched. Thank you, Mister Hildesman.”

“Sure thing,” Hildesman answered.

“Was there anything else you wanted to report?”

“This.” Hildesman passed a folded sheet, not sealed, to the Administrator. “I found a wayward farmsteader girl in the forest near town. She’s staying with Gertrae right now. Was the closest safe place. She reported that her stronghold had been attacked by heretics. I wrote down the description of the attack, as best she could recount it.”

“And you didn’t mention this when you were brought across the Wall?”

“No. Gertrae wanted it brought to Sister Poriss or yourself. She didn’t show me, but I expect her reasoning is in her letter. I owe her a lot, Brother Thestle. And so does the Order,” he added pointedly. Now was the time to find out whether Brother Thestle liked him…

“Officially, you should have delivered this information, or at least this document, to the Order member overseeing your entry,” Thestle started. “But I suspect that circumstances being what they were, I can accept it on their behalf. Incidentally, who did let you through the wall?”

“Highmarshal Verough.”

Brother Thestle coughed, hard. “Well, hopefully she will understand that you didn’t want to burden her already busy schedule with one report by a wayward girl.”

“Hopefully so,” Hildesman answered. “That’s all I’ve got, Brother Thestle. But when I get back next, you owe me a drink. Not tea, either. A proper one.”

Brother Thestle closed his eyes for a moment, visibly forcing himself to relax. “Yes, I hope I do, Mister Hildesman. I hope I do.”

Hildesman left. He had one more stop and then he would be able to bunk down for a couple hours. His sister would want to know what had happened to him.

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