24th Sandstone, 102'So, lads! I'm glad to report that, thanks to the hard work of the brewers, the booze crisis is finally sol... what the flying fuck? You've got to be kidding me! Who are these shitheads? How many of you are there? FOURTEEN? Fourteen MORE fucking good-for-nothing civilian shitheads to feed? Get the fuck out of my sight, pricks!
So yeah, about the booze. We are pretty much still screwed. No pun intended.'
14th Timber, 102-Sir, the two you requested are here, sir!
-Thank you lad. Bring in the dickhead mason first.
-Right away, Sir!
-And who would you be, maggot?
-Meph Rulerfortified, my lord.
-*cough* I'm your commander, and you will call me Sir! Understood?
-Yes, Sir!
-That's more like it. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but this report here says that you replaced a lever. Not just any lever, but the one belonging to the secondary bridge, which is mainly our first line of defense. And you did it without consulting any authorities, most of all, me.
-...Yes.
-What?! You confess? How dare you do a thing like that!
-Sir, if I may. That lever was poorly designed in the first place. Let me draw that for you. You see, if the main bridge is rectracted, the enemy flocks into this narrow corridor here, and stops, if the secondary bridge is also retracted. If we are lucky, our cage traps get some of them.
-That's correct. And when the military is assembled in the outer courtyard, somebody pulls the lever, and we face them at that chokepoint, easily holding off superior numbers. Theoretically, a few (let's say, three) hundred well-trained dwarves could hold off thousands of goblins. Silus' idea, if I remember correctly.
-I don't doubt that, Sir. But if you look closely, you'll see the problem: the lever is exactly next to said chokepoint. If a civilian pulls that lever, the aforementioned thousands of goblins descend upon the poor guy. That's why I moved the lever to the inner courtyard, Where it's safe.
-Hm. That's... that's actually not a bad idea. Hmpf... smartass, huh?
-Sir?
-I admit, maggot, this is not half bad thinking. But you still disrespected the chain of command, so some punishment is in order.
-Sir, have I... been called here for hammering?
-No, no, no. We don't even have a hammerer (though I keep reminding myself that we really SHOULD have one), so that's out of the question. No prison to lock you up either, but I think I have just the thing for you. From now on, we put that smartass brain of yours to good use. You are going to document everything from food production to metal industry, until someone more capable shows up. You are to be our bookkeeper.
-But I'm an architect and mechanic, and quite good at that... there's no need... surely there's another way...
-Don't worry, if you have any ideas, you can still come to me. But as a bookkeeper, you won't be out of sight, so there won't be any more surprises like this.
-Th-thank you Sir!
-That'll be all. And don't let this happen again. Hellishslapped, send the other shithead in!
-Sir, Wypie reporting for duty, Sir!
-At ease, soldier. If I remember correctly, you are the captain of the Magics of Paper, is that right?
-Sir, yes, Sir!
-Splendid. Now then, you are the perfect person to explain this thing to me. How is it that all of you are assigned to hunting duty, and you haven't brought in anything in months? Come to think of it, the only wild animals we eat are those that are considered dangherous, and put down by the melee squads. Furthermore, your men are not even training! What do you have to say for yourself, you sorry excuse for a captain?
-Sir, it's... equipment related.
-How so?
-Basically, we don't have any quivers. Every hunter goes out with a single bolt loaded into his crossbow. If the first shot isn't an instant kill (and it's not, because we don't have equipment to train), every one of us has go all the way back to the fort for ammunition. We're trying our best, but it's just not possible, Sir.
-Hm. This is serious. I have a few rolls of cloth, but we need that for the hospital. We butchered a donkey a while back, but a piece of shit leatherworker made some trousers out of it, although nobody asked him to do it. We don't have anything to hunt, and I won't butcher or only pair of breeding horses.
-...
-...
-Sir?
-Fuck it, I don't know. I'll let you know when I figure something out. Dismissed.
(Next up: Surprise!)