[Customs Office] Balanced Ledger

[Loken]

Winter 3rd, 516 A.V.

Loken swiftly learned that employment at the Customs Office came with a steep learning curve. Any proper introduction into his duties were seen as a tedious distraction by the other members of the staff. The Ano Cultist adopted an aura of obedience designed to convince them that he was simply another cog in the machine. He had been assigned to man the large mahogany desk within central foyer of the building. A ledger sat closed upon the desk, an inkwell and a quill only inches away from it. Out of a habitual need for order, each of the items were geometric aligned perfectly with the other. The quill parallel to the books edge, book and parchments in sync with the table.

Loken sat with impeccable posture in his chair, seated a single inch away from the back rest so that he could not depend on its support, quietly looking over the an item presented to him. A well-dressed human with long red hair entered the building, to which Loken greeted with silent eloquent head nod. The human himself did not appear to respond, but his companion; whom he observed had the distinct trait of feline eyes, a short and portly fellow wearing ragged sailors attire spoke instead.

"We have our papers."

Loken didn't completely understand what to think of the pair. Not so much the parchment that was placed on the desk, but more the fact that the kelvic was obviously some type of slave or indentured servant. Still, the Cultist turned his attention to the paper. Reaching to turn it so that it aligned with the top edge of the ledger. "Mr. Mason Garret. Merchant and Captain of the Amber Trot." He read aloud, then silently turned his attention to the signature of a Searcher who had inspected the Inbound cargo before allowing them passage beyond the cities current Naval blockade.

The human responded with a nod. Loken's eyes shifted to the kelvic for some type of acknowledgment. "Aye, he is Captain Garret. A mute he is. I'm his first mate." Loken took a cursory glance over the captain, more over the cutlass at his side than anything else, before speaking. "State your captain's business here." The main aspect of Loken's job was to take care of the book work. He simply accepted the payments assigned by the Searchers, logged it, and stamped the papers once payment was received. And also did any other task he was asked of if needed.

Loken glanced to the guard walking around, patrolling the building. Being the administrative branch of the Sailor's Guild, guards were stationed everywhere in case Loken required their assistance. But he assumed most people had common sense enough not to be a disturbance here.

To anyone who had ever seen or visited an Librum for Ano Cultist, Loken wore the black uniformed attire as most Gnora marked. They were the same close he wore upon leaving and kept the, well aged, faded all black attire in relatively pristine condition. He adjusted his sleeve, pulling it up to warm his wrist as he continued to read.

"Inventory: Seven large sculptures, five crate's of paints, and ten pieces of furniture." His cold gaze glanced to the kelvic who simply deferred to his master in every way, only to get a nod of approval.

Word Count: 552/2500

[Loken]

"Previous destination? There was no reason he had to ask that question. Loken was simply following the advice he was told. To ask questions if people seemed suspicious. While the Cultist's job consisted of basic book keeping, he did work in a Customs Office. And while being physically mute was no reason to be cautious, Loken found the Kelvic's skittish nature to be curious.

"Last port was Sunberth."

The response cause Loken to give the kelvic a long hard look, only breaking the stare to reaffirm that they were bringing sculptures and furniture from such an ill reputable place. He'd spent so much of his childhood trying to escape that place. And eventually did. "Sunberthian home decor must be the new trend here in Zeltiva? Any unclaimed items missing from the list?" He spoke in the same uninterested monotone as before. Only letting a raised brow show his curiosity. "If not, then please produce your gold if you wish to proceed." He motioned to their papers which had the price written on them.

"No sir, its all there." The pudgy kelvic said hastily. "We came from Mura, only stopped in Sunberth for shore leave. One need be blessed by Yshul ten times over to seek something past that blockade by ship. One of them searchers found a smoke pipe I lost. Peeked in every nook and cranny, they did." The Kelvic emptied a payment of miza's onto the desk as he spoke.

Loken started to count each of the gold miza's, sorting them into groups of ten to make his job easier. "Ten, twenty, thirty, forty.." He counted in his head repeating the process until nothing was left to count. "You are exactly seven silver miza short. Produce them, or this transaction will be void and you will be escorted to the Customs Officer."

Loken saw the Captain express true emotion for the first time at the mention of the Customs Officer. The kelvic did not know what to do as the first mate looked towards his Captain. The well dressed red-headed human dug into a pocket to place the missing silver piece onto the table. All while mouthing silent words to the other man. From what Loken could tell from trying to read his lips, he was complaining that the first mate told him the wrong price to pay.

The Cultist grasped the quill into his right hand, softly setting it into the Inkwell, then placed the tip to proper place in the ledger. Soft scratches of paper could hardly be heard over the kelvics groveling as Loken wrote down the exact day of the season, followed by the merchant's name, items imported, and taxes paid. He opened a large drawer to his side to place the coins the lock box held within. In the same drawer, he retrieved metal stamp and pad of ink to place on the table. He set the stamp to the ink, them marked their paperwork. Once done, he returned the approval stamp to its proper place in the drawer and closed it.

"Your transaction has been logged and approved. Have a good day. And remember, slavery is illegal within Zeltiva." It was an off hand remark that caused the Captain to sneer at him as they exited the building.

Word Count: (546) 1098/2500

[Loken]

A sudden ferocious sound of an harshly opened door shocked everyone in the foyer. A guard walking up a set of stairs walked back down to head to the door; as he did so, the guard was almost forced off his feet by the muscular entrance of a powerfully built man. Dressed in soot covered apron with his chin held high in a scowl, he strode across to the room to the desk that he sat behind. Loken had no idea who the man was and could only assume trouble was imminent. However the guard seemed to recognize him, then move to head back up the stairs like nothing had happed.

The man held out a familiar looking piece of parchment, to which Loken retrieved to start reading. "Mr. Rals. No last name." He noted out loud. "Owner of The Armed Scholar." He did not know the man, but had passed the Armed scholar a few times to know that it was the local smithy. Loken couldn't tell why the man looked so ornery. The half-zith's face that was covered in scars only managed to help improved its angered expression. "Hurry up." The man said then placed two bags of mizas onto the desk.

Loken only had to start reading the listed inventory to know that it was a rather extensive stock of several raw alloy used to make metals. Unlike the previous customer who he felt he needed to question, the cultist remained silent as he focused on counting the coins. "Twenty, forty, sixty.." Listing out the numbers in his head. "One hundred ten..." He could feel Rals's gaze burning a hole into the top of his head as he counted.

"Your agitation is palpable, Mister Rals. However, it will not make me move any faster. I need to log your payment correctly, otherwise I lose my job from a mistake, or you your shipment from being mistakenly marked as illegal from customs oversight." Loken glanced up for a brief moment to give the man a nod before returning to his work. "If it distracts you from the moment, feel free to tell me why you imported such a large quantity of copper." He asked as a general question to keep the mans mood contained.

It took him a few chimes before he retrieved the quill again. Setting the tip of the quill into the ink, dragging it along the edge of the inkwell to remove any excess before placing it to the page. Rals had not answer him until some time later. As if trying to fill the awkward silence out of a need to calm building agitation. "Nine bars of copper and a bar of tin are used to make bronze... I use a lot of copper to make bronze plate armor."

He started to write down the mans name, followed by each of his imported items, and price paid. Unlike the man before, Rals appeared to know how to count properly and gave him the exact change. As he set the quill down, a yawn suddenly slipped from his mouth. He'd not slept yet, having only just arrived from a class at the university to head right to work. Loken was mentally fine with having no free time, but his body needed to rest.

He placed all of the money into the lock box before retrieving the stamp. After setting the stamp into a padded tile of ink, he pressed it against the man's paper work to mark it as approved. "Your transaction has been processed and approved. Enjoy your crafting, Sir. Have a good day." The half-Zith couldn't have exited any faster, only grunting in acknowledgement of the valediction.

Word Count: (614) 1712/2500