"So, uhh... 25 cut malachites..."
"Yes." Check.
"... 63 lapis lazuli..."
"Yes, 63." Check.
"Uhh. This oughta be about a dozen sphenes..."
"Very good. Mistress Jara?" Audit, question mark.
"... An' I made a couple'a lapis necklaces, too. Got all that?"
It was a tall man who knelt beside her with a ledger in one hand and a quill in the other. By all means, Harvard looked every bit as professional as he felt: his coat was finely pressed and free of even the tiniest smudge of dust, an accomplishment especially considering the dusty streets of Ul'dah. His shoes were expertly shined and sounded soft as slippers on the stones wherever he walked. He did not smile and it was true that his features were severe to say the least but he carried with him an air of trust and responsibility, as though his work was indeed his sacred duty and the sacks of miscellenany he took from the diminutive lalafell were the holiest of relics.
"Quite. Mistress Jara?"
Jajara Jara blinked at him. "Huh?"
Harvard gestured to his side with his brow. There was a stone block beside him that had not been there very long before and, for whatever reason, it appeared to have been quite intent on bumping into him repeatedly. "Might I ask...?"
"No, you can't have 'im!" blurted Jajara with her eyebrows pinched in disappointment. "He was a present an' he's... well, I dunno what he is exactly but I guess he gets confused at times." With that, she reached over and patted the tottering block. "Come on, pumpkin', we better leave 'im to his work." She squinted at him as she walked off into the crowds and as, strangely, the stone block wobbled and tumbled after her on tiny grey legs.
Harvard stood and glanced at his sleeve. Broad lines of white, chalky powder marred his sleeves and he could already feel the eyes of other retainers and busy-bodies. His nostrils flared and, in his professional manner, Harvard began to count backwards.
"Yes." Check.
"... 63 lapis lazuli..."
"Yes, 63." Check.
"Uhh. This oughta be about a dozen sphenes..."
"Very good. Mistress Jara?" Audit, question mark.
"... An' I made a couple'a lapis necklaces, too. Got all that?"
It was a tall man who knelt beside her with a ledger in one hand and a quill in the other. By all means, Harvard looked every bit as professional as he felt: his coat was finely pressed and free of even the tiniest smudge of dust, an accomplishment especially considering the dusty streets of Ul'dah. His shoes were expertly shined and sounded soft as slippers on the stones wherever he walked. He did not smile and it was true that his features were severe to say the least but he carried with him an air of trust and responsibility, as though his work was indeed his sacred duty and the sacks of miscellenany he took from the diminutive lalafell were the holiest of relics.
"Quite. Mistress Jara?"
Jajara Jara blinked at him. "Huh?"
Harvard gestured to his side with his brow. There was a stone block beside him that had not been there very long before and, for whatever reason, it appeared to have been quite intent on bumping into him repeatedly. "Might I ask...?"
"No, you can't have 'im!" blurted Jajara with her eyebrows pinched in disappointment. "He was a present an' he's... well, I dunno what he is exactly but I guess he gets confused at times." With that, she reached over and patted the tottering block. "Come on, pumpkin', we better leave 'im to his work." She squinted at him as she walked off into the crowds and as, strangely, the stone block wobbled and tumbled after her on tiny grey legs.
Harvard stood and glanced at his sleeve. Broad lines of white, chalky powder marred his sleeves and he could already feel the eyes of other retainers and busy-bodies. His nostrils flared and, in his professional manner, Harvard began to count backwards.
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