The events of the 12th of Felsite, 1067
"Thank you for waiting with me Varen, I just can't believe how long this line is!"
"Hey, ya' know, least I can do and all," Varen said, distracted. He watched over his shoulder, sighing heavily as the Fortress Guard switched their shifts. Stravitch stood in the hallway, waving his hands in the air wildly while he barked orders, but the fortress guard seemed used to this and mostly ignored him. Guardsman Meng spared a single glance back, and Varen lifted a hand to give her a little wave - and like that she was gone, vanished up the steps before Stravitch saw her loitering.
"How long have we been here now?" Makrond asked squinting up at the ceiling.
"Nearly an hour. You want to come back later?"
"No, I can't keep borrowing money from you... I think it's about time I asked Aryn about all this job scarcity. This is getting a wee bit absurd."
Aryn's door opened, then closed, a grumbling brewer storming down the hallway. Makrond waved him down, saying pleasantly, "Meeting go well?"
"Whaddya' think? He said we have over two thousand gallons of booze, that's more than enough. Said if I want pay, to grab some stone and a spade, and go find Roaroak. Damned bastard, doesn't know how to use anyone's skills properly, who 'lected him in charge anyway?"
Varen scratched the side of his neck, turning towards a dwarf near the front of the line. "I think you came a little late. Hoi, Gilddunes, what are you here for?"
The furnace operator turned to look at the duo, rolling his eyes. "Same as you, and ya' know it. Aryn's had the workshops overrun with glassmakers. 'E said you either make glass, or you make iron barrels to keep the food from rotting. I'm not trained for that! I only know how to smelt down ore! Once I finished up that lay pewter he found in a back room I'm now out of a job."
"...Lay pewter? We had some?"
"Aye, just turned up. Got a couple bars out of it, nothing major. Had some silver, too, haven't seen that in years."
"Makrond, I have to go, I'm sorry. Where is Vash?"
Makrond blinked. "Probably... up in Kuli's solar, preparing for tonight's sermon."
"I'll come back and check on you soon, good luck - don't let Aryn push you around."
"Oh, I won't!" Makrond called, waving to Varen's retreating form.