[center][b][h1]Bork Valding[/h1][/b][/center]

 His Abbotness had given Bork the slip at the Rusty Peg, and the dwarf was not going to let that happen again.  As soon as he discovered where Abbot Andrew Whitewood III was setting up shop, he marched straight to the dilapidated house.

Bork had dealt with protocol and procedures before.  There was always some officious little goblin eager to feel important and throw his weight around by making people wait in line or run in circles.  [b]”I’d like to talk to the abbot,”[/b] he declared to the scribe in the front room.  [b]“No, I do not have an appointment,”[/b] he continued, not waiting for the inevitable question. [b] “And no, I do not wish to make an appointment; I wish to talk to the abbot.  I know he is here, and I know that he has already met everybody in this town important enough to wait behind.  Will you please just announce me?  Bork Valding, Engineer.”[/b]  He extended his card.  [b]“No, I did not give you that to ‘file away’”![/b] he growled, as the scribe moved to consign his card to some oubliette in his desk.  [b]“I gave it to you to show the abbot when you announce me.  Fine, then, I’ll do it myself.  Hey! get your hands off me!”[/b]

The goblins retreated before the sound of their master’s voice, issuing from deeper inside the house, and Bork was able to walk into the abbot’s office unimpeded.  It was gratifying.  The dwarf gave the abbot a curt bow.  [b]“Greetings, Your…Grace?  That’s the style, am I right?  I am Bork Valding, engineer.  I am not from here; I recently came to Pigeon Spit because I heard that the king wished to build this…town into something more.  I am here to tell you how I aim to make that happen.”[/b]

His eyes widened a bit when the abbot invited him to the table.  [i][b]“You speak dwarvish?”[/b][/i] he responded in the same language.  [i][b]“I am impressed, your Grace.  Not many humans do.”[/b][/i]  He was even more impressed by the table itself.  People worked at tables.  Desks were for goblin clerks to hide behind while asking visitors if they had appointments.  Bork realized that the abbot probably simply hadn’t had time to arrange a proper desk yet, but in the meantime, he liked to imagine that the abbot was hardworking.  He declined the food and drink, having eaten beforehand.  You never ate or drank at an interview or presentation because you might spill something on the nice clothes Roswith had picked out.

Tugging a scroll case out of a sleeve, he continued.  [b]“I brought my credentials and references, if you...r Grace wants to see them.  As I said, I’m an engineer, and I’m interested in helping to build up this town.  Specifically, I’m interested in improving the facilities at the mine and the port, as well as the transportation between them.”[/b]  Bork had discussed some things with both the harbor master and the mining captain, and he could discuss them now with the abbot:  the need for a bigger pier, or perhaps a wharf running along the coastline, with warehouses and cranes.  The need to dredge the harbor to make it accessible to bigger ships, maybe even to salvage that derelict sitting out there just off shore.  Bigger and better roads -possibly paved with tailings from the mine and crushed waste rock from the quarry.  Locks, canals, and dams to turn the local river into a road that wouldn’t need paving, connecting the mine and the port. 

[b]“Of course, as your Grace understands, I would require a salary, to say nothing of a budget, for such undertakings.”[/b]  He looked meaningfully about the room.  [b]“And an office, too.”[/b]