Bork Valding
OK, so the abbot wanted to show off his dwarvish. That was fine. When His Andrewness asked if he had a plan the dwarf shrugged. ”Not really. I have some ideas, and have made some sketches, a couple of which I have with me.” He reached into the scroll tube once more and unrolled a large piece of parchment with charcoal sketches and doodles on both sides.
One was a sketch of a large wharf along the coast, with lifting cranes, loading platforms, and warehouses along it. The warehouses were numbered, and were drawn as solid rectangles fronting the wharf that were extended by dotted lines into deeper rectangles farther back from it. The area immediately behind the warehouses was marked “right of way”.
Another was a cartoon map of the river showing logging sites and a path running down to it from the mine. On one side of this was a detailed sketch of a timber raft, and another of a log boom at the mouth of the river. In the area on the other side of the river, as if marking some sort of terra incognita, were the words: “No wainright?! Crappy roads? Transport problems! Try rafts. Ask Rorik how he got his carts.”
On the back side of the parchment was a picture of a wheelbarrow using wheels made from barrel lids and hoops. It had the caption: “Cooper?”
On the same side were various calculations of quantities of rope, wood, stone, gravel, and other materials. Rope was cheap, but whatever Bork had in mind was going to require a lot of it. Scribbled notes about inventorying tools, and also finding sources of tin and iron.
Bork listened next to the abbots “conditions” for his employment. He frowned until he realized that the conditions were actually challenges, whereupon his face took on a relieved grin. He had been afraid they would involve dress codes or paperwork or something. Building a stone wall without a stone mason? That could be done, if the ‘lads about town’ knew how to work and could learn anything.
Getting a plan written up in a week? He took the book and smirked as he leafed through its empty pages. Sure, one could whip up a plan in a day or in a year; it all depended on the amount of detail you went into. He had a pretty good idea how much planning he could do in a week; he’d push himself a little bit, but not enough to go crazy.
With a start, he realized the abbot had finished talking ; however, there was a minor detail. ”That’s only two conditions, your Grace,” he observed. ”The third?” He also wasn’t sure if His Grace meant the week deadline to apply to the wall as well. If he did, then he was a fool. A proper team of stonemasons with a design in hand and a load of material already in place could possibly build a wall like that in a week, conditions permitting. But here? With ‘lads about town’ and makeshift tools? Bork would go through the motions. No good being seen to ignore the abbot’s request. But he had already decided that he wasn’t going to make progress on the wall a priority in the coming week.
He would have to find out what if anything the last condition was before deciding how it would fit into his busy week ahead. After that, it would be time to examine his new digs, and then inform the goblin of his needs. It looked like the abbot was taking *his* leave, rather than leaving Bork to figure out how to withdraw from the conversation. That was a good thing. Spared a lot of fussy etiquette stuff. All in all, the abbot seemed interested more in getting things done than in standing on ceremony. Things were looking up.