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

Listening to the exchange between the harbor master and the abbot, Bork sensed there was some sort of joke he was not in on, one of which he was somehow the butt, especially when it came to the wall.  He would get to the bottom of this, he vowed silently, when he had time.  Which wasn’t now.  The abbot was sending him off to order food like some gopher?  What was he-oh, the girl, right.  The range of emotions from puzzlement to annoyance to insight to acceptance flashed across his face in the space of a few seconds, at the end of which he nodded.  

[b]”The harbor master and I have a few things to talk about first,”[/b] he answered, [b]”but right after that, I’ll see to the…midday meal.  Should I tell them there’s to be soup or something for the patients upstairs?”[/b]  He would have to ask Nelthurin which tavern Talia worked at, although he thought he could guess, just based on what he’d managed to glean about the town so far.

The elf next to him nodded understandingly as the abbot asked him to fetch the tailor.  Another inside joke Bork wasn’t in on.  Yet.  [b]”Of course, Your Grace,”[/b] Nelthurin said smoothly, [b]”I shall get on it once Master Bork and I have concluded our business.”[/b]

That business consisted of the harbor master dropping off a map of the port and surrounding coastline, and taking a few minutes with the dwarf going over what he thought the port needed to make it worthy of greater sea traffic. The elf was able to  point out where the abbot was thinking of putting a barrier wall.  Also he explained to Bork the tidal patterns, and also the lay of the sea floor as he knew it, around the port.  Bork gazed at the map intently as the elf spoke, and slowly started to shake his head.  [b]”The abbot’s ideas are grandiose,”[/b] he observed, his tone making it clear that this was not meant as praise. [b]”So far, Pigeon Spit hasn’t even shown me that it could build a simple garden wall, and now His Grace wants dry docks and a sea wall?”[/b]  

He shook his head again.  He knew how to draw up designs for exactly what the abbot had in mind, but he also knew such a thing would never get build unless the bowels of those two ships anchored offshore concealed an army of builders in their holds.  Maybe he should just draw up what the abbot wanted to impress him, worry about what could actually done later.  Having to humor a dumb boss chafed him something awful, though.

Once he had gleaned what he could from Nelthurin, Bork thanked him.  [b]”Alright.  That should be enough for me to start with.  Leave the map with me and I’ll get to work.  Shall we run our errands now?”[/b]  An edge of bitterness crept into his voice as he asked the last question.  With a sigh, he retrieved his still-damp hooded cloak and headed outside with the elf, after which they parted ways, he to go to the tavern to order Talia take-out, the elf to order tailor take-out.  While he was at the tavern, he would take some time with a mid-day meal of his own.  It was probably a breach of etiquette for Bork to make the abbot wait while he took time to enjoy his own lunch, but given his current mood, that was actually a selling point.