Location [Syliras Location] Qayala's Quill

[Dusk]

Price List Copying Simple text: 1 sm per page Diagrams: 1 gm per page Bottles of Ink Simple black: 1 sm Exquisite black: 1 gm Scarlet: 3 sm Cobalt: 6 sm Indigo: 1 gm Green: 2 gm Occupying a large corner space of the Great Bazaar, Qayala's Quill isn't exactly a shop as some of the others dotting Syliras. The proprietor, one Nathanial Hastings, sets up his booth each morning and offers copying services as well as selling ink in all shades. He employs a group of youngsters as apprentice scriveners, hiring them at a rate of 2 gm per day to copy whatever is needed. Many of the apprentices move on to work with the councils, recording legal documents, and are highly prized for their skills. These apprentices practice their craft in his personal suites, which are set up as a sort of cross between a workshop and a classroom. Apprentices are taught not only copying and drafting, but ethics and the importance of confidentiality in their chosen profession.

This location is moderated by Archon and Chevalier

[Klyphaestus]

10th Day, Winter 510

Klyphaestus approached the booth slwoly, in a pretended caerless way, and ran his eyes over it and the proprietor. He would be more than reluctant, and if he ever did, with great embarrassment, to admit that he in fact had been spying on this booth for some while. No, he was just passing by for the seventeenth time.

But Klyphaestus seemed to have made up his mind now, for he drew a deep breath at the corner of the street, and then walked quickly up to the proprietor, bowed a deep bow suddenly, and spoke in a deep, cracking voice: 'Sir---'

Klyphaestus jumped at his own croaking voice. He stopped immediately, cleard his throat with some effort, and opened his mouth again while his face went red like a tomato. 'Sir, I am Kly-Klyphaestus who used to run a family bookshop.' Klyphaestus was relieved to find that his voice had returned to its normal state, and thus he spoke more fluently, regaining his usual eloquence. 'I was wondering that whether you can use a hand here. I, if it is not too ugly a boast, am rather quick in reading and writing, have a good memory, and write with strokes not too unbearable to common eyes.'

[Dusk]

Nathaniel had been watching the young man, of course. No one passed by his booth that often with such nonchalance without actually meaning to stop eventually. But he was an old man, and by virtue of that had become a patient man, so when Klyphaestus stepped up and introduced himself, the old scribe was ready for him. "Ah, yes! Your parents ran the place over by the florist. I remember them, good people. A shame you'd no family to help you keep an eye on the place," he said with a nod, whuffling through his mustache. His voice was clear and crisp, words enunciated perfectly as if it were as important to him that the spoken word be without blur or smudge as the written word. "Come, come," he said, waving him around the edge of the table and back behind where a pair of scribing students - two boys no older than fourteen - sat diligently copying paperwork. "Here, sit down and copy this," he said, handing over an elegant calligraphy poem and waving him into a seat in front of a pile of paper and various quills and bottles of inks. "One in normal print, and the other in as close an approximation of this calligraphy style as you can manage. I don't expect you to be able to do it all in this go," he said, patting Klyphaestus on the shoulder. "Just need to see where you are with all of this. I'll be back in half a bell."

[Klyphaestus]

Klyphaestus had himself seated at the desk, carefully moving the chair so that it would not cause any unpleasant noise. Without Nathaniel's presence, Klyphaestus felt extremely old among the young boys blooming in the jewelled youth.

He ran his fingers over the feather of the quills. Some of them were tattered, but most of them were as new as they could be, shining in the morning sunlight. Klyphaestus sat there, thoughts wandering. He used to have a set of quills and various inks when he was still a boy. It was just a humble set, but had been more than enough for a nine-year-old boy. Klyphaestus had cherished this gift from his parents so much that he seldom even use it. He would open the small wooden chest that held the set every night and carefully dust off the imaginary dust on the bottles and noble quills. There was some sacredness which seemed to dwell in them.

By the time Klyphaestus turned twelve, however, the inks had already dried out, becoming solid rocks in all those bottles. Only the quills remained scarcely touched by time. His parents had persuaded him to trash the inks away. Klyphaestus had took their advice.

And his heeding now brought him melancholy when he sat in front of the papers, quills and inks of Nathaniel's. Klyphaestus picked up a quill, sharpened it a bit, dropped the head of the pen in a bottle of black ink, and started to write.

The moment the point of the quill touched the peper, dark ink ran pouring forward, leaving a huge pool of liquid on the texture. Klyphaestus froze all motions for a full second and after a flash of pondering thoughts, abandoned the word which was about to form under his quill, and started to draw long lines across the page. At first the lines wavered and twitched like worms but eventually became smooth and even. Klyphaestus stopped when he finished the fifth line, feeling that he had gotten to know the quill better. He shifted in the chair and pulled a new sheet of paper in front of him.

The requested copy in normal print was easy enough for Klyphaestus. Once he had gotten used to the quill and had regained his calmness, he laboured with admiring speed, leaving lines after lines of his slender handwritings upon the paper. Soon a faint sense of self-satisfaction replaced Klyphaestus' former caution. He increased his speed, but always having the cleaness of his writing under control, enjoying the scraping sound of the quill against the paper. He was eager to prove himself, this young Drykas. And he was eager to prove that being older in age than the two students beside him made him more capable than they were.

Klyphaestus had one word wrongly scribed by the end. He shaved his failure away with a sharp little knife used for occasions like this and corrected it immediately, but the scar on the paper was still visible if inspected with some care. He cursed himself silently, then turned to work on the next assignment.

Copying the calligraphy poem in every sense was easier for Klyphaestus. No longer considering himself writing, he took each letter as a picture, capturing the very essence of the inks. He worked slowly, but the precisness in his work made the copy almost identical to the original one. Before Klyphaestus could fiish the page, however, he heard Nathaniel approaching.

[Dusk]

The older man finished a transaction with a customer and made his way back over to check on his newest recruit. Without a word, he picked up the sheet of normal print and inspected it carefully, his slightly rheumy eyes still good enough to catch every detail of the page. He tapped a finger against it once, then set it aside. Next he picked up the calligraphic, and this he spent a little more time examining. At this point the other two boys were trying to watch what was going on while still looking like they were working. "You're better at this," he said, nodding a little as he fingered one of the dry letters. "Not great, but you've an understanding of what's needed. You could probably learn to design your own calligraphy if you work hard enough at it, but you've a fair enough copy. Which even Daniel here can tell you, since he's been struggling with his S's all season," he said without missing a beat, and the boys jumped and guiltily went back to their work. The page was set back in front of Klyphaestus with another nod. "You're welcome to a job here, though you'll need to improve your block a little faster than your script. We've less call for the finer things, but we get enough weddings and such that I'm sure your talents in calligraphy will be put to good use. Though it'll be a while before you start taking commissions. There are classes to be taken first, for I've a feeling you're mostly self-taught and we've a program to adhere to here. So. I'll pay you two gold a day if that's suitable for you?" he asked, bushy eyebrows rising with the question.

[Klyphaestus]

Klyphaestus blushed slightly as the old man commented on his works. Though he had always did well in covering his feelings when recieving praises, Klyphaestus had been secretly proud of himself. But such pride did not make him blind and he knew that there was much for him to learn.

He glanced at the students and smiled, then looked back at the older man. 'It is a great honour that you should accept me. I will take my study with passion.'

[Dusk]

"Good then," the old man said with a nod. "We have calligraphy at fifth bell, copying at seventh, and ethics at eleventh bell. Then we break for lunch, and you'll be expected to work the afternoon here. Daniel here will be kind enough to show you where my quarters are," he said with a wave of his hand, and one of the boys put down his quill and hopped to his feet, grinning sheepishly at Klyphaestus. "I'll expect you there tomorrow morning. And welcome," he said with a rumbling chuckle, patting the other man on the shoulder as he might any new recruit no matter their age. OOC NoteCongratulations on your new job! I will send you a PM to explain what you'll need to know about it.

[Rovan Dermane]

AV 511, 9th day of Spring. Sweat, bustle and impatience. This was filling Rovan's mind as he stood in queue to Qayala's Quill, his cowl pulled up to keep his face shielded from the sun. It was bright and sunny midday, mixed with the business of rush hour that made it almost unbearably hot for the scholar. When he finally reached the desk, he planted his hands on its wooden table and looked at the shopkeeper, sweat trickling down from his weary brow. "I need five bottles of black ink," he rasped, his breath affected by the heat. He wanted nothing more than returning to his lodging as soon as possible and splash some water to his face.

[Archon]

Nathanial looked up slowly at Rovan's arrival, having just been providing quiet instruction to one of his apprentices, and he gave the man a small look over before replying in his clear, concise voice, "Of course sir. Are you wanting the simple ink, or the exquisite ones?" Making his way back to the table he pulled out and placed a bottle of each in front of Rovan, "The simple black will work for any common job you have, but you will want the exquisite ink for anything intricate or that needs to stand the test of time." After a brief moment the old man cleared his throat and asked, "Are you quite alright? You seem a little out of sorts." OOC NoteJust a little reminder: being a part of the Great Bazaar, Qayal's Quill is actually located inside Stormhold Citadel, and underground. No real chance of having Syna glaring down at you.

[Rovan Dermane]

"Yes, yes - I'm perfectly fine," he said impatiently, a little irritated of how obvious his agony was. He pointed at the bottle of simple black stiffly. Normally he would take more time in inspecting the goods, asking for possible testing of the ink's quality before buying it. But with the blazing heat of the sun that his black robe absorbed, he wanted to be out of the queue as quickly as possible. "I shall take the simple, there. How much for five of those?"