Frontier Dreams

Interlude: Mailcall

In Which We Peek Behind the Curtain

Dirk sat at his desk, grumbling at the apparently permanent source of paperwork that had become a depressingly significant portion of his day. Hearing the bell toll outside his window, he stood up, resolving to tackle it after he stretched his legs on the midday rounds. As he put his hat on and walked outside, he noticed a small cloud of dust on the road into town. Recalling what day it was, he headed out to greet the traveler. As usual, the carefree sound of whistling reached his ears before he could make out the driver.

Dirk didn’t recognize the whistler lass, a young one who must be new to this route. Judging by the parcels and packages adorning her cart, Leopold’s oddities had arrived in bulk. Dirk had no interest in those, Leopold had other channels he assumed if he wanted to bring questionable materials past his guard. What he searched for desperately was a package of unknown size or shape, but with a distinctive marking. His heart skipped a beat as he scanned twice and saw nothing, but he almost failed to hide his relief when she dismounted and he spied it strapped to the seat across from him, that same distinctive green twine.
After exchanging the usual pleasantries with the lass, granting her entry and lodging, Dirk plucked the small brown parcel from the seat. When she protested, he reassured her he knew who it was from, and where it was going. He was just as excited to receive it, and swore on his badge it would not be tampered with.

Drydia was behind the counter stacking clean glasses for the evening when Dirk walked in. Before he could say anything, she spied the parcel hanging from his fingers and shouted up the stairs for Louby to come down. The three of them eagerly gathered around a table before undoing the twine. Inside the straw packing lay a rusted pirate hook, encrusted with barnacles as well as a couple curiously purple sea shells. Dirk examined the curious hook while the worried parents eagerly read the exploits of their adventurous son. He didn’t pry overly much, but it would seem the wandering lizard warrior was an able mentor, if stubbornly brusque.

Drydia tenderly picked up the sea shells, and turned them over in her hands, wondering aloud if Abigail could make some earrings of them. Louby meanwhile pulled out a stool to reach above the bar and mount the hook on the wall of increasing oddities he’d received. The hook while noteworthy, was nothing compared to the three foot long barbed quill of some terrible beast his son had slain. So long as there were ears to listen in his bar, he promised himself he’d never stop telling his customers how proud he was of his son.

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ModernDayMinstrel

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