Timestamp: 2nd Day of Spring, 516 A.V.
Location: Elysium Hall
“You’re a rock hound, aren’t you?” Alses’ question came in the middle of the regular meeting with Silver, one where the affairs of her small household were discussed and the budget decided upon. Silver had patiently maintained that this was an essential thing, even when Alses pointed out that she trusted him implicitly and would more or less sign the bill he put in front of her.
Unless there was something ludicrously wrong with it – like three too many zeroes, for instance.
Nonetheless, Silver had said. He’d pointed out that, with a surfeit of time and a steady income, the household was only likely to grow, and with a larger household came more complex accounting concerns and unusual draws on the budget. It was also a good way to keep a finger on the pulse of the house – happy staff were good staff, after all.
Alses had seen sense, and the iron determination beneath Silver’s smooth exterior, and graciously acquiesced – thus their companionable ensconcement in the plush armchairs of the library, ledgers neatly arranged on the low table between them and Silver’s ever-present little black notebook open with his brush hovering, ready to enact any changes that might prove necessary.
Her question slightly wrongfooted her butler, but with admirable sang-froid he swung back onto an even keel and murmured smoothly, as though there had been no moment of non-plussedness, “That description has been applied to me in the past; I do enjoy my geology, yes, your grace. Is there a concern?” He was probably thinking of his precious rock collection that gleamed and glimmered on the shelves of his butler’s pantry.
Alses took a moment to appreciate the diplomatic word choice; ‘problem’ would have been entirely too confrontational for her butler, for whom ‘discretion’ was probably printed on his bones, and ‘issue’ could be taken as trivialising any worry she had. “No, no concern, Silver,” she said warmly, allaying any fears he might have had about having to re-house his prized collection. “We were just thinking about the shiny rocks people have been finding in the streams of late. I understand some are geologically interesting – and valuable – and we find ourself wondering how that can be.” She frowned. “I do not like finding my understanding deficient,” Alses admitted. This was not quite true; there were some subjects on which she cherished her ignorance. Cleaning and menial labour came easily to mind, as did almost anything involving fighting and physical exertion, for that matter.
Silver cleared his throat and settled more comfortably into his chair, his waistcoat buttons straining momentarily against his bulk. “How valuable rocks come to exist, m’lady?” His tone was not disbelieving or condescending, rather inquisitive, seeking to clarify her question.
“No. We mean…” she cast about helplessly for a few ticks; Silver left her to it, trusting that her agile mind would get there sooner, rather than later, and knowing – by dint of long companionship – that an interruption would more likely than not scatter whatever fragile forming kernel of thought as existed in her brain. “…how do they get into the rivers? Surely people don’t throw them in?”
Silver’s laugh, a reassuring, booming baritone, filled the library with its rich sound. “Heavens, no, ma’am. The streams and rivers pass over and through soil and rock on their way to their final emptying point, yes? As they go, the force of the passing water eats away at the riparian surfaces – the sides and bottom of the water channel – and carries away material.” He smiled fondly, his eyes slightly distant, as though he was looking at warm memories. “It occurs a great deal in the Peaks, as it happens; there are a thousand streams out there, cutting down through the mountains, and some sparkle with flecks of gold on the riverbed.” He shrugged. “Who knows what else the water washes down?”
Alses blinked; she’d never, ever considered that there could be anything even remotely valuable out in the Misty Peaks and the Unforgiving; they’d always been obstacles, dangerous regions to be avoided, if at all possible.
“The Peaks are useful?” Later on, looking back, Alses would inwardly cringe at the incredulity in her voice, but the concept was simply alien. The wilds were something to be defended against, to be cut back with fire and sword, not the source of much that was useful.
Location: Elysium Hall
“You’re a rock hound, aren’t you?” Alses’ question came in the middle of the regular meeting with Silver, one where the affairs of her small household were discussed and the budget decided upon. Silver had patiently maintained that this was an essential thing, even when Alses pointed out that she trusted him implicitly and would more or less sign the bill he put in front of her.
Unless there was something ludicrously wrong with it – like three too many zeroes, for instance.
Nonetheless, Silver had said. He’d pointed out that, with a surfeit of time and a steady income, the household was only likely to grow, and with a larger household came more complex accounting concerns and unusual draws on the budget. It was also a good way to keep a finger on the pulse of the house – happy staff were good staff, after all.
Alses had seen sense, and the iron determination beneath Silver’s smooth exterior, and graciously acquiesced – thus their companionable ensconcement in the plush armchairs of the library, ledgers neatly arranged on the low table between them and Silver’s ever-present little black notebook open with his brush hovering, ready to enact any changes that might prove necessary.
Her question slightly wrongfooted her butler, but with admirable sang-froid he swung back onto an even keel and murmured smoothly, as though there had been no moment of non-plussedness, “That description has been applied to me in the past; I do enjoy my geology, yes, your grace. Is there a concern?” He was probably thinking of his precious rock collection that gleamed and glimmered on the shelves of his butler’s pantry.
Alses took a moment to appreciate the diplomatic word choice; ‘problem’ would have been entirely too confrontational for her butler, for whom ‘discretion’ was probably printed on his bones, and ‘issue’ could be taken as trivialising any worry she had. “No, no concern, Silver,” she said warmly, allaying any fears he might have had about having to re-house his prized collection. “We were just thinking about the shiny rocks people have been finding in the streams of late. I understand some are geologically interesting – and valuable – and we find ourself wondering how that can be.” She frowned. “I do not like finding my understanding deficient,” Alses admitted. This was not quite true; there were some subjects on which she cherished her ignorance. Cleaning and menial labour came easily to mind, as did almost anything involving fighting and physical exertion, for that matter.
Silver cleared his throat and settled more comfortably into his chair, his waistcoat buttons straining momentarily against his bulk. “How valuable rocks come to exist, m’lady?” His tone was not disbelieving or condescending, rather inquisitive, seeking to clarify her question.
“No. We mean…” she cast about helplessly for a few ticks; Silver left her to it, trusting that her agile mind would get there sooner, rather than later, and knowing – by dint of long companionship – that an interruption would more likely than not scatter whatever fragile forming kernel of thought as existed in her brain. “…how do they get into the rivers? Surely people don’t throw them in?”
Silver’s laugh, a reassuring, booming baritone, filled the library with its rich sound. “Heavens, no, ma’am. The streams and rivers pass over and through soil and rock on their way to their final emptying point, yes? As they go, the force of the passing water eats away at the riparian surfaces – the sides and bottom of the water channel – and carries away material.” He smiled fondly, his eyes slightly distant, as though he was looking at warm memories. “It occurs a great deal in the Peaks, as it happens; there are a thousand streams out there, cutting down through the mountains, and some sparkle with flecks of gold on the riverbed.” He shrugged. “Who knows what else the water washes down?”
Alses blinked; she’d never, ever considered that there could be anything even remotely valuable out in the Misty Peaks and the Unforgiving; they’d always been obstacles, dangerous regions to be avoided, if at all possible.
“The Peaks are useful?” Later on, looking back, Alses would inwardly cringe at the incredulity in her voice, but the concept was simply alien. The wilds were something to be defended against, to be cut back with fire and sword, not the source of much that was useful.
