"My family has thousands of Gelt invested in your company! How dare you refuse to allow me to retrieve my goods!" Emmaline raged, thumping a small balled fist against the top of the table. The clerk was fully awake now, and possesed of the panic of any low level official who suddenly found himself in well over his head.

"Your family...frauline... who is your family?" he stammered, knocking over his ink bottle in a panic and making a desperate grab to contain the mess.

"Who are they?! WHO ARE THEY?! Who in Sigmar's name do you think they are?!" Emmaline demanded all but shaking in simulated rage. 

"The.. the Van Gelders?" the clerk stammered.

"The Van Gelders!" Emmaline agreed, seizing on the information provided with an actors fluidity.

"I am Margaritte Van Gelder and I demand you turn over my family's property to me immediately," she snapped. The clerk picked up his ink stained ledger and brushed at it, flipping pages desperately. Emmaline made a face and took a step back to avoid flying droplets of ink. The clerk peered owlishly down at the page.

"What property are you talking about, our records show you as investors in coin and in lumber," the clerk read. Emmaline narrowed her eyes as though she were just about to begin shouting once again.

"Do you think I cam here looking for lumber?!" Emmaline demanded. The clerk gave her a panicked look and frantically turned a few more pages. 

"Are you refering to the 'special' order," he asked quickly, brightening considerabley.

"Of course I am," Emmaline snapped, stamping her foot pettishly, relived that she wasn't going to be forced to walk out of here with a few tons of lumber. The clerk relaxed, obviously pleased to have found a solution to what a moment ago had been an insuperable problem. Unfortuantely that newfound confidence made his officiousness return.

"Frauline, it isn't our policy to simply release goods without..."

"Policy? It is your Policy?!" she stomped to the window and threw up the window. It didn't actually look out at the walls, but it served as a good reminder about what was going on beyond the compound.

"Do you see what is going on out there?! There are hordes of beastmen at the gates! I demand you release my family property to me now. At any moment the Countess might demand these storehouses might be emptied for the war effort. Where will my property be then, pawed at by soldiers!"

"Ummm..." the clerk temporized, a look of panic entering his eyes at the idea that the Countess might seize the contents of the compound. Such a calamity would be ruinous to the company, even if the Elector Countess reimbursed them, that would be months or years from now and probably for coppers to the gelt.

"One word to my father..." Emmaline threatened, feeling victory beckoning. It was a mistake, the clerk frowned, his eyes losing a little of their panic.

"Your father... but he passed away..." the clerk interjected. Emmaline cursed internally, but was too practiced to simply give up. That would have been more dangeous than pressing on.

"My grandfather dumpkoft!" she snapped in exasperation. "who is as close to me as my dear father. How dare you bring up my families tragedy!" The clerk threw up his hands, to the snickering of the guards behind her. He pulled open his desk and retrieved a pair of brass keys. Then stood up and lead her through the door and into the nearest of the warehourses. It was dark and cool and smelled sharply of spices and teak. They passed bales of wood and indigo stacked on shelves, and barrels of preserved meat, currants, and spices laid out on wooden palettes marked with chalk and parchment notations. The rear of the warehouse was a stone structure with a large door of metal banded wood. A pair of guards stood dicing on a barrel, but they swept up their dice and coins as the clerk approached. The clerk either didn't see it or ignored it, taking the key he unlocked the door and swung it open. The guards on the inside, warned by the noise outside, were standing at their proper stations, heavy clubs and pistols thrust into their belts.

"One moment," the clerk told her, and opened a cabinet to retrieve a heavy ledger. He pulled it open and turned the pages till he found what he was looking for, then retrieved an inkbottle and quill and made a notation. He turned the book so she could read it. An entry said 'special order' Van Gelder. The clerks signature, Heinkrick Sclemov, was beside it with a place for a second signature beneath it. Emmaline picked up the quill and signed Margaritte Van Gelder. The clerk scrutinized it for a moment, perhaps expecting to find some error in the script, but Emmaline wrote letter perfect in the Altdorf style, down to the exaggerated flourishes that were in fashion. He grunted, then opened the rear door with the second key, leading her into the strong room. Three walls of the windowless room were lined with shelves, piled with boxes. Some were simple wooden affairs, others carved and ornate. A few were wrapped packages to oddly shaped to be easily boxed. Each was tagged with a name and a date. The clerk took a large cherrywood box a shelf and passed it to Emmaline.

"I acknowledge the release of goods to you Frauline Van Gelders," he said formally. Emmaline flared her nostrils.

"Do you expect me to carry it like a servant sir?" she demanded. The clerk sighed and hefted the case.

"I will take it to the gate for you Frauline," he admitted in a broken tone.