07:30 a.m. - At Technologia Workshop, Dawnspire
The workshop woke like a small city. The line shaft turned. The little steam rig puffed a steady breath. Hammers and files rested in their places. On the front bench, ledgers lay open beside a slate covered in tidy notes.
Ryan stood by the slate. Elara, Sariel, Lira, and Bromar gathered around.
Ryan (tapping the slate): "Dawnspire runs while I travel. We need a second branch in Frosthaven."
He wrote four short lines.
- Elara — accounts, wages, supplier payments.
- Sariel — travel with me, set Frosthaven ledgers and warranty desk.
- Lira — stay and guard quality (nibs and paper batches).
- Bromar — fit-and-finish, mentor new smiths tied to the mine schedule.
Elara (calm): "I'll keep the books clean. I'll post wages every eighth-day, and send you a weekly summary."
Sariel (precise): "I'll carry fresh ledger blanks and the batch number stamps. We will mirror Dawnspire's records in Frosthaven."
Lira (bright, focused): "I'll hold the brass templates for nib checks and tighten the paper soak-and-dry timings. No batches leave untested."
Bromar (practical): "You keep safety first at the drift. I'll keep the grind crisp. Bring back honest coin, not fancy talk."
Ryan nodded and drew a box on the slate.
Ryan (steady): "Branch Kit."
They packed it on the bench:
- Stamped care cards (how to use, clean, and store a nib).
- Batch ledger templates (lot number, test marks, notes).
- Guild Mark standards sheet (the three tests, plain words).
- Warranty placards ("Replace or repair, no trouble—show the batch wrap").
- Sample nibs (fine, standard, broad), two holders, and drying cloths.
- A small ink vial and scratch parchment for demos.
- A counter-mark stamp to place beside the Guild Mark.
Sariel checked off each item and closed the case.
Sariel (noting): "Counter-mark will stop copycats from using the warranty. We will post the public ledger near the counter."
Ryan crossed to the door and pinned a parchment to the wall. It was the same safety list he had written by the Silverwyn.
- Rails on main drift (strap iron on wood ties).
- Proper timber sets and caps every nine feet (inspect daily).
- Air doors and brattice cloth. Hand-crank fan Day 3. Steam fan after sign-off.
- Sump pump schedule (morning and evening, no excuses).
- Six experienced miners from Ellan's crew (premium pay first month).
- Safety fund posted at the door (healer's name and rate).
- Shared track rules posted. Main carts first. Our carts at off-peak.
- Inspector welcome. Ledger open. No hiding fixes.
- Hire two widows for ledgers and packing (train, pay fair).
Under it, he chalked a small reminder.
Ryan (reading aloud): "Inspector in 7 days — rails, air doors, hand fan must be ready."
Elara scanned the calendar.
Elara (soft): "We'll be ready. I'll book the timber from Marn this morning."
Lira lifted a tray of finished nibs to the brass template and smiled when the fit was clean.
Lira (light): "Quality holds. I'll keep it that way."
Bromar clapped his hands once, sharp as hammer to anvil.
Bromar (brisk): "Right then. I'll tune the polish stones and check the quench oil. If a lad rushes, I'll make him redo it and write why."
Ryan closed the Branch Kit and handed it to Sariel.
Ryan (firm): "We build trust the same way in both cities: make it well, prove it works, pack it right, stand behind it."
They moved together through the last checks—coin purse, travel rolls, a neat stack of care cards for handouts. Elara tied a ribbon around a packet of letters for suppliers.
Elara (steadied): "If the garrison audit arrives early, I'll show them the floor, the tests, and the wage book. We have nothing to hide."
Ryan (grateful): "Thank you."
He turned to Bromar.
Ryan (earnest): "If anything feels wrong at the drift—air, roof, water—stop the work. Send word. We fix root causes first."
Bromar (approving): "Aye. Breath and wood before ore."
They parted with a quick nod. The morning city buzzed outside.
As Ryan and Sariel stepped into the street with the Branch Kit, a cloaked figure moved past the workshop gate, hood low. A strand of crimson hair caught the light and vanished. At the same time, Ryan looked toward the cart yard, mind on Snowball and the road to Frosthaven. He did not see her face. She did not turn toward him.
Ryan (calling back to the door): "We'll send word by runner tonight."
Lira (from inside): "Travel safe!"
The figure in the cloak paused at the corner, then walked away toward the market, unseen and unremarked.
Ryan set his jaw and lifted the kit.
Ryan (quiet to Sariel): "Dawnspire holds. Frosthaven begins."
Sariel (small smile): "And the inspector in seven days."
They headed for the stables, the city's hum rising around them like a promise.
02:00 p.m. - At Murdock's Forge, Frosthaven
The forge roared like a dragon. Sparks leapt and died on black stone. Murdock's hammer rang in a sure rhythm, and a rack of finished steel nibs cooled beside the quench trough.
Murdock (grinning through soot): "So the wee pen's not so wee anymore. You brought ledgers, didn't you?"
Ryan set a leather folder on the bench—clean forms, standard sheets, and a small brass stamp.
Ryan (nodded): "We make it official. Technologia Frosthaven—built with your forge. We follow the Guild Mark rules, the same as Dawnspire."
Murdock wiped his hands and flipped through the forms. Sariel laid out a slate and a batch ledger book, her quill already uncapped.
Ryan (steady): "Here's the outline. Your shop becomes Technologia's certified producer in Frosthaven. Every nib carries a batch number. We test grind and flow here. We post a simple warranty sign at the counter. If a nib fails, we replace or repair at once. We log the fix."
Murdock (approving grunt): "Good. Folk trust what they can see."
Sariel placed a small placard on the table, written in clear, large script:
"Technologia Warranty: If your nib fails, bring it with its wrap. We repair or replace, no trouble. Batch number on every wrap. Public ledger at the desk. Fixes shown in daylight."
Sariel (precise): "If a nib fails, we show the fix in daylight. That's our rule."
They went to the side bench where a brass template and a testing page lay ready. Ryan selected three nibs.
Ryan (demonstrating): "Fine—light touch, thin line. Standard—everyday use. Broad—signatures and heavy flow."
He dipped, wrote, and blew once. The ink dried clean. Murdock nodded, pleased.
Murdock (practical): "What's the first target?"
Ryan (measured): "Four hundred nibs in ten days, mix of grades. We place four demo sets: the scribe hall, Grimoire & Quill, the city registry, and the garrison clerk's office."
Murdock scratched a quick plan on a scrap of wood.
Murdock (counting): "Two lads on cut and grind, one on polish and temper, me on final pass. We'll hit four hundred."
Ryan opened a small wooden box, revealing a counter-mark stamp—a tiny stag's head within a circle.
Ryan (calm): "We stamp this beside the Guild Mark. It's our counter-mark. Warranty only for nibs with both marks and a batch number on the wrap."
A carter stepped in from the yard, cap in hand.
Carter (low): "Master Murdock… word from the docks. Odrik Stoneveil's pushing cheap copies again. Rough points. He's telling folk they're 'as good as yours, cheaper.'"
Murdock's eyes narrowed.
Murdock (flat): "Aye. And cheaper will cost them double."
Ryan turned the placard over and wrote a line in firm script:
"Batch Ledger Public. Counterfeits void warranty."
Ryan (calm): "Proof beats rumor. We keep the proof on the wall."
Sariel took the ledger to the front. She pinned a clean sheet on a board: "Batch Notes, Public." Below it, she lined entries:
- Lot C-21 — grind/flow pass — Murdock sign
- Lot C-22 — 2 tips re-polished — fixed, retested — Sariel sign
- Lot C-23 — rust check pass — no red — stamp applied
Sariel (precise): "Each lot is signed by two people. No shadows."
They moved to the back room where a small map of the road to Dawnspire was pinned. Ryan marked a line in chalk.
Ryan (steady): "Weekly shipments of ore and steel from Dawnspire. Off-peak hours on the south track—shared right-of-way. We agreed with Ellan: main mine carts go first. We move at night when the line is clear."
Murdock (grins): "Ha. Less gossip, more iron."
At the clerk's table, Sariel completed the registry papers.
Sariel (calling out): "Technologia Frosthaven is now registered. Branch desk at Frostlight Square. Public ledger posted. Warranty placard posted. Counter-mark in use."
Ryan checked the four demo sets—each with a fine, standard, and broad nib, two holders, a drying cloth, and a care card. He tied each bundle with plain twine and sealed it with Technologia's small wax mark.
Ryan (soft, to Murdock): "These sets open doors. When folk try them, the nibs will sell themselves."
Murdock (dry): "Aye, but we still knock on the doors first."
They set the first ten-day schedule on the wall: day by day outputs, tasks, and checks. Ryan turned to Murdock.
Ryan (earnest): "If something feels wrong—grind, temper, flow—stop the run, find the cause, and write it in the ledger."
Murdock (firm): "Aye. We fix the cause, not the blame."
The carter tugged his cap again.
Carter (cautious): "Stoneveil's lads might sniff around. Want me to tell the night watch?"
Ryan (calm): "Yes. Two locks on the front. Light in the yard. If anyone asks—show them the public ledger."
Murdock stamped the first batch wraps with the Guild Mark and then the stag counter-mark. The sound of the small press clicked like a promise.
Murdock (satisfied): "Right. The wee pen has teeth now."
Ryan shook his hand.
Ryan (steady): "We build trust the same way in both cities. Make it well. Prove it works. Pack it right. Stand behind it."
Sariel closed the ledger with care.
Sariel (quiet): "And we keep our records open. Let rivals talk. The wall speaks truer."
Outside, the forge bell chimed the hour. The plan was set:
- Murdock's Forge certified under Guild Mark and counter-mark.
- Public batch ledger posted.
- Warranty placard posted.
- First 400-nib target in ten days.
- Four demo sets ready for placement.
- Weekly shipments from Dawnspire on off-peak shared track.
Ryan lifted the first sealed bundle.
Ryan (to Murdock): "We deliver two today—Grimoire & Quill and the scribe hall. Tomorrow, the registry and the garrison clerk."
Murdock nodded, already turning back to the anvil as the fire flared.
Murdock (calling after them): "And tell the scribe hall—if their hand aches, the pen's not the problem, the grip is. I'll show 'em."
Ryan smiled and stepped into the street with Sariel, the city's voices rising around them.
05:30 p.m. - At Frostlight Square, Frosthaven
The street-front room sat just off Frostlight Square, a narrow space with a wide window and a painted door. Ryan and Sariel signed the lease with a careful clerk, then went to work. A simple sign hung straight above the lintel:
Technologia Frosthaven — Nibs, Paper, Care & Warranty
Inside, they set a counter by the window. On the back wall, Sariel fixed a wide board titled "Public Batch Ledger" and beside it the warranty placard in clear script:
"If your nib fails, bring it with its wrap. We repair or replace, no trouble. Batch number on every wrap. Fixes shown in daylight."
Ryan (nodded): "Good. They can read the promise before they pay us."
A waist-high table became the testing desk—two wooden holders, a small ink bottle, and a stack of scratch parchment. On the counter, Sariel set the counter-mark stamp, the tiny stag's head in a circle, next to the Guild Mark press.
A young woman with steady eyes and neat braid appeared at the door, hat in hand.
Mira (careful): "Master Mercer? I heard you were hiring for the desk. I've worked at the registry window. I can keep records clean."
Ryan studied her sample script—tidy, even strokes, names written without smudge.
Ryan (smiled): "Two-week trial. Sales, exchanges, and customer notes. You log returns on the wall. Simple words. Clear dates."
Mira (earnest): "If something goes wrong, bring the nib back with the wrapping. We'll replace or repair—and we write it down."
The first customers drifted in from the square: a city clerk rubbing cramped fingers, a young scribe with ink on her cuffs, a messenger with a satchel full of folded orders.
Ryan (easy tone): "Try this one—hold low, gentle hand. Let the nib glide."
He dipped the standard nib, wrote a quick line, blew once. No smear. He pressed with a little pressure, the line grew thicker, steady and clean.
Clerk (surprised): "No scratch. My hand does not fight it."
Ryan laid out the care card—clean with a cloth, don't stab the page, keep in a dry wrap.
Scribe (testing the fine nib): "The thin line… it holds," she said, smiling.
Mira recorded the first sales in the ledger: three standard, one fine. She stamped each wrap with the Guild Mark, then pressed the counter-mark beside it.
Sariel (quiet, approving): "Two marks, one promise."
Near sunset, a red-faced messenger came back, sheepish.
Messenger (uneasy): "This one catches. Maybe my fault?"
Ryan took the nib, tried a few strokes—one tine was a hair rough.
Ryan (calm): "We replace now. No trouble." He swapped a fresh nib, dipped, and wrote a smooth line. "We'll log it."
Mira wrote on the wall board:
- Lot C-24 — 1 tip re-polished — fixed, replaced — Mira sign, Sariel sign
She set the returned nib in a small tray marked "For rework," and noted the cause in the counter book.
Mira (to the messenger): "If you ever need a fix, bring it with the wrap. We show the repair in daylight."
Ryan and Sariel closed the door long enough to carry two demo sets to their placements. At the scribe hall, an older scribe tested a broad nib for signatures.
Scribe (pleased): "It does not blot. Good for seals."
At the city registry, a tired clerk pressed the standard nib.
Registry Clerk (relief): "If this holds, my wrist will thank you."
At the garrison clerk's office, the duty sergeant eyed the care card.
Sergeant (practical): "Orders that don't smear save quarrels. Leave two sets."
Grimoire & Quill received a bundle of fine nibs and a neat note:
"Shared reading table offered, at no cost—lessons in clear script for those who wish to learn."
Bookseller (amused, kind): "A merchant with a reading table? I'll hold you to that."
By dusk, the shop door opened again to the square. The window cast warm lamplight onto the cobbles. Mira tidied the counter, counted coin, and pinned the day's summary on the wall.
Mira (soft report): "First sales: five. First replacement: one. All logged."
Ryan looked at the public board—the simple truth of the day written where any visitor could see it.
Ryan (quiet): "Proof beats rumor. We keep the proof on the wall."
He checked the small bundle marked for tomorrow's delivery—the last two demo sets. Sariel blew out one lamp, left one on in the window.
Sariel (low): "Dawnspire's inspector comes in seven days. Rails, air doors, and the hand-crank fan must be ready. Elara sent a runner."
Ryan pictured the Old North Drift—timber sets, brattice cloth, rails waiting in stacks. He felt the pull of both cities—the new branch and the oldest rule: safety first.
Ryan (resolved): "We balance both. Breath and wood before ore. And here, trust before coin."
They stepped out to lock the door. The square was gentle with evening voices. Ryan turned toward Frostlight's far corner with a small parcel in hand, ready to drop the reading-table note.
At the edge of the lamplight, a figure in a plain cloak paused briefly, then moved into shadow. Ryan didn't look up—his eyes were on the neat shop sign, the fresh chalk on the public ledger.
He lifted the latch again, checked the lock twice, and smiled at Mira.
Ryan (kind): "Good work today. Be here at first light. We'll do short lessons—pricing, ledgers, and care notes."
Mira (bright): "Yes, Master Mercer."
They parted ways at the corner. He carried the last bundle toward Grimoire & Quill, and the square softened into night.
As Ryan turned toward Frostlight's far corner with the small parcel in hand, three figures watched from under a striped awning near the square's edge. One carried a broad shield on his back, another wore a swordsman's coat with the sleeves rolled tight, and the last stood light on her feet, eyes sharp in the half‑light.
Lyss (low): "He's busier than ever."
Barden (flat): "Let him stack his coin."
Gin (quiet, controlled): "He cost us the crystal. We take it back in the dark—clean and quiet."
They did not follow now. They watched him cross to Grimoire & Quill, then faded into the lane's shadow, leaving only the stir of canvas and the echo of market voices behind them. The square kept its calm. Ryan did not look back.