World of Warcraft®

Spriggel had the main table in the Stonefire Tavern covered with herbs & flowers, sorting them into piles. The lunch crowd wouldn’t be in for another hour and it looked like she would be done by then. But then she heard a request for an AAMS courier over her hearthstone, asking if anyone was near and available.

“Well, I'm hanging out in the Stonefire Tavern doing some herb sorting. But I can set this aside if you would rather meet halfway somewhere. Where abouts are you now?”

“Ah'm in Ootland, but ah kin be ennehwhere,” a masculine dwarf replied.

Looking over her shoulder and only seeing Gwenna Firebrew nearby, Spriggel giggle and teased, “I just looked over my shoulder and you're one fine looking dwarfen lass.”

Quickly returning to a more business tone, she continued, “Well, if you wouldn't mind meeting me here in Ironforge, I would be most appreciative. Hate to lose the organizing I've done so far.” Spriggel began bagging the stacks of herbs into individual burlap sacks and tieing them closed with twine.

Galahn agreed. “That'll be fine. Ah'll hop on tha' tram inna few.”
“Roger that. Out.”

Spriggel had her herbs all sacked up sooner than she’d planned, and being the impatiently helpful person she always had been, she scampered off to the Tram, hoping to catch him midway. As her tram car came to a stop at the Stormwind depot, she was certain she’d found her dwarf; he’d be the one stacking several crates up in preparation for boarding the tram.

Galahn Tinhelm greeted Spriggel warmly, probably recognizing her guild uniform and tabard, while continuing to set out an array of sizeable crates.

“I thought I'd meet you on the way. Save you some wear and tear on your boots,” Spriggel explained. “Anything living or hazardous in these crates?” She walked around the crates, inspecting them for any breathing holes, checking out how sturdy they looked.

“Got some crates o' ingots an' various supplies fer tha Mihari no Hitoshi 'ere. Some motes o' fire, but ah gots 'em contained.” He then pointed out a crate banded in yellow, "This'un 'as Adamantite Bars innit, so ah lined tha' inside jess in case.”

Puzzled, Spriggel parroted the dwarf: “Thamiharinohitoshi?,” wondering if that was a Pandaren title.

“Aye. Mister Zaium?”

“Oh! Mihari no Hitoshi! Yeah, yeah, easy enough.” She pushed a few crates to see how heavy they were while the dwarf tossed a heavy coin bag atop the crate of Adamantite. “An' ah lit'l somethin' fer yer troubles.”

Spriggel thanked the dwarf and began cataloging the goods.

“Pleasure doi'm business, as always. Wull, ah've another shipment fer 'em ter get tagether. They're still buildin', ya knoo.”

“Ah, I hadn't heard. Good to know. I’ll pass the message on and keep an eye out for you.”

As he headed out with his cat, Galahn well wished the gnome: “May tha' wind be atcher back.”
“And good hunting to you two too.” Spriggel Lockbolten hopped atop the crates waiting for the next tram, while finishing her list.

Later, with the last of the crates safely stored in the AAMS office closet, Spriggel scanned the new AAMS office and was able to quickly find Derscha’s desk.

It was the neat, almost sterile one. Spriggel scrounged around Derscha's desk looking for a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil.

As always, the neatness of the desk belied how illogically hidden were the resources one would expect to find around a desk. Since there was no one else around to ask, it took 3 and a half minutes to find the paper (easiest to find as it was the larger of the two needed supplies) while the pencil took another 5. At the end of these 15 minutes (so she can't add), Derscha's desk was unrecognizable, with office supplies from the desk, file cabinet, and closet (one never knew where Derscha might hide things, was Spriggel's thinking) scattered all over it.

Spriggel wrote the pertinent details for the delivery (from Galahn, to the Mihari no Hitoshi, Mister Zaium, and which crates) as well as a note that additional crates of more metals would need pickup & delivery probably next week.

She then cleared a space around Derscha's in-box so that the new delivery would be clearly visible to everyone, and dropped her note right on top.

"It's good to be back," she thought as she scampered out to the gryphons for a flight back to Stormwind.

Derscha stopped in the doorway to her office, staring at her desk.

Her doorway.

She had specifically demanded a door for her new office.

A lot of good it did once a certain gnomish courier had returned to duty. She couldn't even recognize the heap of office supplies as her desk.

Theramore, Pandaria, the Ball, and now Spriggel. . . she sighed.

"I need a vacation."

Spriggel met with Genevra and her husband, Narnicka, from Conclave at the tea shop that had just opened upstairs of the apothecary shop in Tinker Town.

Genevra was looking apprehensive, a little unsettled, so Spriggel insisted that they join her with a cup of tea before she would even think of getting down to business. A hot cup of fresh Pandaren tea was just what was called for to soothe and calm some nerves.

Genevra appeared apprehensive at first, then somewhat relieved with the amenable reply that Spriggel delivered. But she asked that an urgent message be re-replied back. Apparently time was of the essence, which likely explained Genevra's anxiousness.

Spriggel, in her ever helpfulness, accepted the request, fairly certain she could find the expedite forms in Derscha's desk to get this message on its way PRONTO.

-----

Entering Derscha's office, Spriggel nodded.

Keeping the door locked was a very good idea.

It'd keep disreputable people who had no business messing through the private, sometimes secret, things in, on, and around Derscha's desk -- it'd keep them safely away.

Leaving the desk in its all too familiar after-Spriggel-state, she made sure to re-lock the door (or would that be re-relock? She hadn't been keeping count of how many times she'd been in Derscha's new office. Maybe she should start keeping a count. This would be . . . hmm, let's say 2. Gotta start somewhere.) on her way out.

Derscha slipped into the AAMS offices with a small sense of homecoming; she had, afterall, spent more time with the company than at her own home in the past year. Still, it had been good to sneak away for several days, letting no one except Arrayah know exactly where she'd been. She locked the door, leaving a key with Arrayah so she'd have access to Derscha's files.

The sense of relaxation disappeared in a puff of smoke before she'd walked more than a few steps into the offices. A crowd of couriers assaulted her with notices and updates and warnings-

-...someone had sealed off the warehouse with Hazardous Shipment signs....-

-...there was some sort of meeting scheduled for Sunday... or was it Monday?...-

-...Miss Kanzelry went missing ... ("Which one?" "We have more than one?")...-

-...someone had MISPLACED a shipment... oh, no, it was recovered... sorta...-

-.. Oh! Myzzi Kanzelry. No, no, the grumpy one... although I don't think I've seen Myzzi, either, come to think of it...-

"ENOUGH!" Derscha held up her hands to the crowd, forestalling any more comments. "Give me some space, do you mind? I'm sure Miss Greyson has left all this information on my desk. I'll read through the reports, then you can fill me in on anything else."

The sea of couriers looked warily at each other, and with mutual agreement to not say anything cleared the way to Derscha's office. The gnome fished her key from a pocket, opened the door, and stared.

"SPRIIIIIIIGGGGEEEEELLLLL!"

It took some time before Derscha had all the office debris on her desk pre-sorted for proper sorting and filing. One particular paper caught her attention; it wasn't one of Arrayah's reports. She skimmed over the heavy paper. After a lengthy, formal greeting, the real letter began.

I would like to meet with you in Ironforge at the earliest opportunity to discuss matters of grave importance.

It was signed Buldin Skullhammer. The name was vaguely familiar. She pocketed the letter and locked up her office it for whatever good it was worth, telling reception she'd be in Ironforge.

A while later, she was in Military Ward meeting with a sturdy looking dwarf dressed in the colors of the Ironforge Guard. Unlike the letter, Buldin went directly to business, producing an official looking writ from his tabard.

"I hate to do this to the AAMS, but I need access to yer records. Anything involving Ironforge, and anything involving something that may be considered 'treason' by the Alliance." He seemed reluctant. "Yer neutrality is not in question, and yer well known fer doin' a great service, but some of yer customers may be committing treason, and we need ta' investigate."

She raised her eyebrows in frank surprise. "You'll forgive me if I wish to have more reason than that. Client confidentiality is one of our selling points, after all."

"Fair enough. Yer relaying a message to and from a guild suspected of harboring a Horde sympathizer. They had a meetin' right here over there in Tinker Town, and several of our fair citizens witnessed it."

"And relaying messages is suddenly illegal?" she asked. Tinker Town, Tinker Town… She struggled to remember any mention in the list of paperwork on her desk. The Conclave-Coterie meeting. It was hardly unusual; the AAMS had set up several meetings between Conclave and various members of the Horde in the past.

"When they potentially threaten the well-bein' of the Alliance, and the relaying occurs in these halls, it gives reason to investigate, which is all this is," Buldin said reasonably. "We'll be held by the same standards ya' hold yer own to, and none of the records will enter public domain, but yer kinda puttin' us in an awkward position here."

She tugged at the brim of her hat. "A 'Horde sympathizer' is hardly a major crime, from my point of view, sir. I've been called that many times myself."

"So yer not gonna cooperate with any investigation, are ye', regardless o' writ or probable cause?"

"You've asked for a very broad swath of information on what, to me, seems like a very flimsy excuse." She shook her head. "Any information on Ironforge and anything that may be considered treasonous?"

"Allow me ta' narrow the swath o' information. Any message sent to or from Conclave with the aforementioned dependancies." He held out the official writ. "If it would make ya' more comfortable, yer welcome to read this. It'll detail everything I've just said, and explain why Conclave is of interest ta' the Guard."

Derscha carefully read over the papers, half-listening to Buldin as he continued to explain. It was a collection of documents dealing withe Watch's investigation of Nynra. It seemed that members of the guard were dissatisfied with the Watch's investigation, and were using Conclave's meeting in Tinker Town as an excuse to investigate the group.

"Flimsy" was probably a generous adjective. She continued to look at the paper until she was able to ungrit her teeth.

"I do not believe that we have aided in anything that could be considered 'treasonous' to the Alliance," she told him evenly and held up the papers. "I must protest to being ordered to violate company confidentiality."

"With all due respect, ma'am, that writ is only an attempt at gathering information for the sole use of the Ironforge Guard, to determine whether or not Conclave is putting the Alliance at risk, not the AAMS."

"Yes, and next week, I shall have to give you the papers dealing with records of our deliveries for Ishnu Por Ah, for the safety of the Alliance?" She paused a moment. "Or shall I give the Kor'kron records of our dealings with the Alliance?"

"Actually, ma'am, we've got no interest in those dealings. Last time I checked, this was only about Conclave."

"You mean the Conclave and anyone they've sent messages to," Derscha corrected. The would include a large portion of Azeroth.

"Anyone in the Horde, aye."

"Just as I'm sure Lady Sylvanas would love to know whom the Razortalons have been corresponding with. Do you see my position, here?"

"If Lady Sylvanas wanted information, would ya' be foolish enough ta' deny her? Ya' really want the Forsaken in Undercity huntin' yer couriers?"

No more than I want your people threatening them, Derscha thought with a sigh. "There you are, assuming the Horde would simply resort to violence to achieve their ends. To be honest, Lady Sylvannas would be more likely to send a smooth-talking official as her first attempt."

"I ain't tryin' ta' smooth-talk ya'. I'm merely tryin' ta' do a job. I'd like ya' t' cooperate. I ain't askin' fer anything more than what's in that writ. If yer not gonna cooperate, ya' realize I'm gonna have ta' take action against the AAMS, seeing as it would be interfering with an open investigation, aye. I'm tryin' ta' do my job. I already told ya' that I dinnae want ya' in any trouble, and anything ya' give us would be confidential, but ya' gotta work with me."

Derscha could remember the flyers sent out around the same time as Nynra's, by people who believed that they were doing what was best. In particular, a sentiment of interest to the AAMS: anyone not actively aiding us are equally to blame. Refusal to cooperate made her an enemy of Ironforge?

Or the enemy of Buldin Skullhammer?

"I have no interest in trouble, either. I am simply protecting my people, as well. The only guarantee of safety my people have is our neutrality. If we can't be trusted, we lose our protection."

"We have no interest in puttin' yer people in harm's way. Anything we glean from yer records, we will cor...corra...corooh...we will back up with other sources. Yer records will remain confidential."

Then why do you need our records? she thought to herself.

"If ya' want ta' be trusted, yer gonna have ta' understand, secrets make people not trust ya'. Me back's up against the wall."

"I'm willing to give you limited access to our records," Derscha said slowly. "Only yourself or someone I approve. And only the records concerning Conclave, and I'll want specific time frames. We do a lot of business with them."

He wouldn't be allowed to step one foot in Booty Bay without strict supervision, and would only be allowed to see exactly what heknew he would find.

To her surprise, he answered, "I dinnae think access will be needed. I trust ye' enough to provide what we need. Th' only thing we're interested in is messages from Conclave ta' anyone in the Horde, and the only reason fer that is because of past accusations of treason. I'll even narrow the scape. The last six months too long?"

Six months? She did some calculation on her fingers, largely for show. "Very too long. Scholars like to write. And 'anyone in the Horde' is still too vague."

Buldin was beginning to lose his patience with her. "I dinnae believe that, but that's part of the open investigation. If they're only collectin' harmless information and historical documents, ya' got no reason to conceal the records, and they got nothin' ta' hide."

"Isn't that what they always say? 'The innocent have nothing to hide'?"

"Tends to be true, in my line o' work."

"I have already said I don't believe we've aided them in treason."

"We ain't suspectin' you in it, which is why we're askin' fer yer help. If ya' refuse ta' cooperate, that'll likely change the situation." He crossed his arms. "Neutrality doesn't protect ya' from the law, and if ya' refuse ta' cooperate in an investigation, and we uncover information ya' could have provided us, that makes you an accessory after th' fact. We dinnae want ta' pursue that. That's why I am here, asking' fer yer help in this investigation."

"I do believe you're the one who said he trusted us to provide information on 'treasonous' material. I have said that I know of nothing treasonous. If you want more specific information, give me times and suspects, and I'll see what I can do to help." She waited. If he didn't give her specifics…

"Yer most recent meeting with them, and th' letter a woman named Nynra had sent ta' th' Horde that spurred the investigation in Stormwind. Anything relating ta' either of those will suffice... fer now. And if ya' want me ta' define "treason" fer ya', and then change yer own definition while in Ironforge, ye' may be better off." He was on the last of his patience now.

A plan was already forming in her head. Her most recent meeting…

"The letter sent by Priestess Nynra is public knowledge. It was plastered everywhere. As for the last correspondence, I'll provide those records."

"But yer the one who knows who it was sent ta' specifically. Plasterin' it don't mean it wasn't sent specifically."

She refrained from rolling her eyes. She remembered that delivery, having taken the message from Nynra personally. She had not been very picky about whom had received the letters. But giving Buldin some information would likely buy her some time. "There were specific individuals we sent specific copies to; the only one I recall of the top of my head was Oskor of Das Doctas, a peaceful group. Is that sufficient for you for the moment?"

He hesitated a good long while before grudgingly nodding. "Yer welcome ta' operate within Ironforge, but with the Council of Three Hammers comes a new regime, and we dinnae have the tolerance that Stormwind does. Mind yer step. Yer neutrality cannae protect ye' when ye' operate in a place that ain't neutral. Am I clear?"

She adjusted her hat rather than responding straight away. "Is that all, then? I should like to head back to my offices in Booty Bay."

"Aye. Thank ye' fer yer…" He paused before uttering discontentedly, "cooperation."

Her first stop was the local office in Ironforge to leave a set of instructions, before returning to the roost where she'd left her gryphon. She was not about to break the AAMS's confidentiality if she could help it. She giggled to herself; Buldin had never requested her silence on the investigation. What was the easiest way to avoid giving away secrets without permission?

She flew south, hoping it wouldn't be too late in the evening when she arrived in Redridge.

As Derscha and Buldrin were wrangling, Abominus the Fisherman went screaming by, dressed in overalls, a well beaten lathers hat, and a bone fishing pole.

"We only wanted to fisssh in your warlock pond, yesss! AAAIIIEEE!!!"

A large number of guards streamed after him, stopping every now and then to reload and fire upon him.

It was with a little surprise that Derscha found not only Genevra and her husband at home, but also Nynra Lightheart. That saved her a little bit of extra trouble. She quickly informed them that the Guard was asking questions about their proposed meeting with the Coterie and Nynra's letter.

" Indeed, we are scholars, and yes we have a meeting planned with the Coterie, but it is just that a meeting, to exchange information, we cannot live our lives with only half a world of knowledge," Genevra said, confirming what Derscha believed.

"I'm not about to give information nilly-willy to anyone who asks. The only thing that keeps my couriers safe from reprisal is our guarantee of confidentiality. But even I have to obey local laws."

Genevra smirked slowly, "Indeed and so you must, so let met help you with that shall I? I do not wish for our interest in knowledge to put you through any undue hurt or stress Miss Kettlebomb. So if you don't mind will you send one more message to the Coterie?" Beside her, Narnicka gave Genevra a quizzical look.

"If I weren't willing to send messages where other disapprove, I'd be in very much the wrong business."

"Tell them that we have no further wish to meet and apologize for the inconvenience we may have caused them. And see that the Ironforge Guard knows of this message."

That was exactly what Derscha had been looking for. "I'll be sure to give them all the information they need."

Genevra warned her that was all the information she was given leave to release. "Let me make myself clear Miss Kettlebomb, should the nature of meetings and letters sent through your organization be handed over, for whatever the reason, the recourse will not be pleasant, but it will be public."

"'Unpleasant' is an understatement," Derscha agreed with a heavy heart; today simply was not her day. "I have no intention of blindly complying with anyone who threatens my couriers' safety."

The flight toward Booty Bay seemed to go by quickly after that. She had no desire to close the Ironforge offices or to allow her company to be pushed around by an overzealous bureaucrat without taking preventative action. She made several calls per the hearthstone, sending a couple of trustworthy couriers to Ironforge to help carry out the instructions she'd left. By the next day, any truly important information would be shipped to Booty Bay, with the except of the minimal amount they needed for day-to-day operations. They'd fill the empty shelves with decoy material, but that would take a little longer to produce.

Another happy idea had struck her. For the first time, she was happy to see her thoroughly disheveled desk. She rummaged through it until she found a clean sheet of paper under some notebooks and wrote a note to the absolute perfect person to make sure any attempts to peruse their records would be doomed.

Spriggel-

The Ironforge office needs some volunteers to help clean up and reorganize their records.  If you would like to take charge of this project, please report to that location. They'll be expecting you.

Sincerely,
Derscha Kettlebomb

In truth, Derscha had never been very fond of Ironforge, though it had been her home for the years after Gnomeregan had been evacuated. There was a painful mix of memories associated with the sound of hammers and the smell of molten iron. Still, the city had never felt unwelcoming before. . . until she had to deal with Buldin Skullhammer.

It didn't take a professional person-finder to find him in the Hall of Arms, where he was meeting with a small group of people, Warden Kyalin Raintree and two gentlemen she didn't know. She cheerily offered to come back at another time, but Buldin said, "Actually, I believe Warden Raintree and her companions may be interested in what ya' have t'say."

So much for "this will remain confidential." Derscha had permission to give her information to one person only; she was not going to stretch the rules any further, lest they break completely.

Derscha motioned to the other three. "While fine people they may be, I came here to speak with you."

Thankfully, he didn't press the issue, and led Derscha to a private room after excusing himself for a few minutes. "Have a seat," he offered, settling into a chair.

"This shan't take very long, as you said."

"Aye, I expect not. Have ye' decided on a course of action?"

"Oh! Yes. I have indeed."

He waited impatiently for her to elaborate; she let him. "Aye, what is it?"

She smiled brightly. "I did, indeed, look into the exact specifics you interested in. Are you still willing to believe me when I say there is nothing treasonous?"

He sighed and stood up. "Nay, lass. In fact, I have proof that ye' can either verify, or ye' can falsify "facts" of yer own. I hope yer willin' ta' make the right choice."

"If you already have the facts, then there is no need to bother us at all."

"Actually, lass, if ya' fergot, ya' did have a writ that says we are tryin' ta' legally obtain information... and yer legally bound by th' laws of Ironforge ta' do just that. Whether or not we have it is irrelevant. That's called corroboration."

With deliberate slow care, she carefully pulled a very crumpled piece of paper from her courier's satchel which looked like it'd seen better days. The edges were tinged with a dark brown color. "That's one of the flyers we distributed for Nynra. Took a little while to find one; we did lose so many records when we moved offices."

He eyed the paper. "I've already been made aware of that. Yer gonna have ta' do better than that. The meeting, for starters."

She shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to know about the flyers."

"Aye, and I wanted ta' know about any other communication between Conclave and th' Horde. I can safely say, there has been plenty, and there is a much larger risk of treason in light of new evidence. Yer gonna have ta' stop dancin' around th' facts."

She giggled, wording her next few sentences carefully. "I'm a very poor dancer. I can tell you this: the last cross-faction message we received from the Conclave was Priestess Genevra breaking off contact and canceling their meeting."

He seemed interested in the news. "Aye? Why's that?"

"Why?" She widened her eyes as much as she could. "We never ask why. It's not our business. Do you tell the delivery person why you're sending a letter?"

"I dinnae usually, but given yer unwillingness ta' cooperate, yer just as suspected as Conclave is."

She couldn't help but add dryly, "Which, on a normal basis, be not at all."

"Funny ya' decided ta' mention that," Buldin said. "See, Ironforge is an Alliance city, bound by Alliance law, and given our state of war with th' Horde, I'll do ye' a professional courtesy."

"Oh?"

"Given your "neutral" stance, if ya' have business ta' do, ya' best do it outside of Alliance territory, if yer gonna be relaying message ta' th' Horde. As it is, yer interferin' with an ongoing investigation. Yer welcome to argue th' point, but then I might as well arrest ya' and bring ya' t' trial."

Time to leave. She thumbed over to the direction of the Hall of Arms. "I'm afraid I've been keeping you too long from your other visitors. Do feel free to contact our main offices next time you're in Stranglethorn."

"Aye. Yer free ta' go. I suggest ya' do it and dinnae let me catch yer couriers conductin' business in Ironforge. This is an Alliance city. Ye'd do well ta' remember that." He didn't wait for a reply, but simply left the room to return to the others.

"Hmm." Derscha absently adjusted her hat. The AAMS had a long-standing permit to operate within Ironforge and other Alliance territories; it would take more than a threat to get them to leave. It was hardly as if they had ever disguised the fact they communicated with the Horde! Besides, as she told Genevra, they were in the business of making messages despite disapproval from others.

Still, part of her couldn't help but wonder if there were office space in New Tinker Town.