Ripples in the water, For the contest. Options

[jack cloudy]

Chapter 1:

Vvardenfell, Frost Plantation

“End report on imported goods, subbranche 2B, 13 Last Seed, 3E 431. Signed, R. Frost.” I wrote down my signature at the lower right corner of the paper and deposited my quill back in the inkwell. After that, it was a simple matter of putting the report on the large stack that graced one corner of my desk. An attendant would seal it in an envelope and give it to the courier later.

A sudden loud thumping on the window spooked me. I nearly jumped out of my seat and dove for the door. Only conscious effort kept me from acting like a fool. Instead of fleeing, I merely looked over my shoulder at the window and laughed. It was one of the Bull Netches, the one called Albert. The branded marking on its snout made it easy enough to recognize.
“Get moving, you big doofus. It’s too early in the morning to be causing a racket.” I chuckled. The Netch gave another whack against the window with its tentacle before drifting off. I shook my head and scolded myself.
“Come on, Ro-El. No one is out for your life. No need to flinch at every odd sound.”

I yawned and stretched a bit before getting up out of my seat. Sitting in the same position for several hours gave me muscle-cramps, even though the furniture in my office was only of the highest quality. It probably had to do with my lifestyle. I just wasn’t accustomed to sitting around all morning doing nothing. Well, nothing perhaps didn’t describe it. A more accurate description would be, I just wasn’t accustomed to dealing with paperwork all morning.
“Ugh, maybe I should hire someone to deal with that.” I muttered to myself with a quick glance at the large pile of reports, contracts and letters.

As I fled the office, I was greeted by Gylin Lenith.
“Good morning, master.” He said with that distinctive voice like crude gravel that all Dunmer seemed to possess. While no one had a true answer for the cause, I was among those who blamed the frequent ashstorms. My own voice had come to bear a very slight resemblance to that of a Dunmer over the past two years. And since those past two years conveniently marked my time spent on Vvardenfell, it wasn’t such an implausible conclusion.

I’d noticed my thoughts had drifted off, which made me feel rather annoyed with myself.
“Ah, good morning to you as well.” I replied quickly before the silence stretched on for too long.
“Lenith, the Albert was hitting the window of my office earlier. Is something wrong with him? He’s not sick, is he?” I then asked. The Dunmer chuckled.
“Old Albert? I very much doubt he is sick, master. Rather, it seems he has taken a fance to little Jauline. All that racket is just his way of trying to get attention.” He explained but added a stern warning to his words.
“I suggest you avoid the fields for the next few days. Breeding Netches can be notoriously aggressive. We’ve trained out most of it, but you can never be too sure. In fact, that is what I came to inform you about. As well as a few other matters.”

I nodded and walked down the stairs to the living room. Lenith followed a few steps behind.
“I’ll keep it in mind, thank you. Please pass on your advice to the Saltrice-planters as well, and the Guar herders. In fact, maybe we should just hang up a notice at a few strategic places. That should do the trick.” I mused out loud.
“As for these other matters, care to tell me over breakfast?”

The living room was an elegantly decorated room large enough to house an entire family, grandparents from both sides included. There was a large table, along with some comfortable sofas, pillows, a bookrack stacked with the usual works and most importantly, there was art filling every empty nook and cranny. I honestly didn’t really appreciate all the expensive carpets, paintings and the bust of myself. Especially the last piece. Just what kind of an ego am I supposed to have in order to place a stone replica of myself in the living room? But, this is what people expect of a rich noble these days. While it got on my nerves day in day out, expectations were there to be met.

I tried my best not to look at my marble copy as I grabbed a dry loaf of bread from the table. For a nobleman, that loaf of bread would be an absolute abomination. Something closer to a five-course diner would be expected, not something fit only for commoners. Expectations were there to be met but since I had no guests, I could have my preferred kind of breakfast. Which just happened to be a single loaf of bread.

Lenith sat down in the sofa opposite mine and grabbed a loaf for himself.
“Yes, as for those other matters. Nothing major for as far as I know. Now that the Netches have begun to breed, we should try to acquire a contract with a trader. Did you perhaps have any specific ideas in mind, master?” He said and bit down on his bread.
“Nothing specific, but it does occur to me that we enjoy an exclusive position at Ebonheart. I was thinking of exploiting that position and exporting to the mainland. Netches aren’t found anywhere but Vvardenfell and I’m sure Netch leather would be popular with clothiers if only for their rarity. Ebonheart’s harbour is one of the largest on the island. Only Vivec’s comes close, but we all know how it is over there. For the purity of Vivec’s home, no ship bigger than a gondola is allowed within city-limits and the dock nearby is restricted for coast-travel.” I replied. The Foreman smiled.

“A fine idea. Very well then, I’ll have a report made on how much we can export, as well as a listing of the current price Netch Leather has on the market.” Lenith finished his bread, meticulously sweeped the loose crumbs of bread off of his jacket and then rose.
“If you will excuse me.” He bowed and left, leaving me to finish my breakfast in solitude. I glanced the breadcrumbs the man had scattered across an expensive carpet I’d imported from Hammerfell and cocked an eyebrow.
“The maid will be mad at him for making a mess again.”